1 GOME AND TAKE ME. Dcviyisr. VOL. 1. CLEARFIELD, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 31, 18-55. NO. 28. - - : i - i ft -3 i-i 'it r-j 4 1 i . jl RAFTSMAN'S JOURNAL. Bex. Jones, Publisher. Per. annum, (payable in advance,) St 50 If paid within the rear, 2 00 No paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid. A failure to notify a discontinuance at the expi ration of the term subscribed for, will bo consider ed anew engagement. EULOGY ON WASHINGTON. sr samcel r. joxes. The Eastern star that o'er old Bethlehem bung In blaiine splendor, while the angelic tongue Announced the coming of that holy child, eJ nose lace beam u giaanesj, lor tne saviortr smti- fco did the Star of 1-reedom proudly stand. To shed it's radiance o'er Columbia's land ; And point the way where all the sons of Earth Might view the infant Liberty's proud birth, They wond'ring to its cradle gladly run, And saw their saviour in Geokoe Washington. The enartnor'd muse thro" time's protracted scene, On hiBt'ry d page shall keep his memory green; Fathers shall teach their sous to rev'rence theo, Thou friend of Yir.Tre and Equality; For. when oppress'd cud struggling to be free, Thy valli.int arm strujK firm lor Licerty Fluck'd from a tyrant's brow the brightest gem That ever glitterd in his diadem Sapp'd the foundation of our country's shame, And gaia'i Columbia's land a deathless name. Venerable cbif ! a long, a last farewell ! In death's cold, narrow house, you silent dwell. No poignant grief, or life-corroding care, Can e'er disturb thy peaceful ashes there; For playful cherubs round thy crumbling clay, Hare borne each atom to Eternal Dai;; Fair as the Moon, brighter than the Svu, In Heaven now dwells Immortal Washington! (Driginnl JHornl Calr. (WRITTKX fO!l THE JOCBXAL.J the COPYRIGHT SECURED. :C: CHAPTER XIII. Yertitia, left alone in the arbor, aid with the shales of evening gathering fastly around her, had a multitude of conflicting thoughts. Her mind, however, was fully made up on on? point ro rc-nounce the world, aa-l become a Christian. Sue had experienced, she thought, the necessary change; and nothing now r.'Kiained for her, as she urgently felt, but th3 duty of speedily professing her faith be fore the world. As to the odium that every where attached to the nnmt, or the Ores of a ieedy martyrdom that everywhere blazed around her, thess things had never once oc. carreJ to her mind, nor had they in any way influenced her in this all-important decision. Her experiences, and abovo all her hopes of another and better life, a life, some scintilla tions of whose untold glories had played be fore h?r eyes, and awaked the slumbering en ergies of her soul, had absorbed her thoughts nnd banished the fear of death. And now as she sat. thoughtful thinking of the glory to coine, of her dear sister in heaven, and joying inly over her own happy change, her eyes closed, she gradually sauk into a dreamy unconsciousness, and her thoughts were all away from earth. She seemed all at once to be in the very world of which she had just been thinking ; and a "loved one" too, now much more in her thoughts than ever, passed in a living, grace ful form before her. As to the place itself, it seemed to be just like this earth, and yet very unlike it. Some things there were just as they are here, and yet there was a strangeness about even these, that, any attempt to depict in words, were utterly useless. There was the green sward, the bnbling brook, the scented flower, the un dulating slope, the blue line of hill, and the tall spiles of a city, glittering in the dim dis tance. But then about every thing there was an indescribable something, an unutterable hue ; a sort of spiritual transparency tlat facinated while it be-dimcd the eye. The light of the land, however, seemed the strangest tiling of all. There was no sun in the clear, still skies, and yet tho light stream ed all through the air, above that of the clear est and brightest days. No day on earth could be likened to it, in its balmy freshness, or in its clastic effects upon the spirits. And now as Yertitia seemed to herself to stand on the margin of a gentiy-flowing rivu let, its green-swarded banks strewed with flowers of nameless varieties, and gazed off in the direction of the city, the gentle breezes bore to her car the soft, sweet sounds of dis sent music. Then, presently, a long train of white forms appeared moving down a gentle alope, but were soon lost again behind an in tervening copse of mingling trees and flowers. At sight of these, she felt a strange timidi ty steal over her, and she quickly concealed herself behind a flowery knoll. More and more audible grew the music, and more varied and enchanting its strains, till, at length, peeping through the flowers, she ob served the train issuing from the copse, into the clear, open lawn, at a short distance from j her. Her fears increased, but her curiosity, I in spite of herself, kept her blue eyes peering through the flowers. The forms were light and airy, their step elastic and bounding, their dress a shining white, long and flowing, their eyes bright nd lustrous, and their long hair hung in glos sy to.ds over their shoulders. On their heads were bright, dazling crowns, and in their hands small harps of the finest gold, and from from which, at tho touch of their white, del icate fingers, proceeded the enchanting music. As the train moved along opposite the place of her concealment, and just as they swept away off again in the direction of the city, one of the forms quickly separated from the rest, and, with a smile, approached the flowery knoll. "Sister ;" said the form, in a sly, calling voice ; and wheeling, sped away again after her companions, her long ringlets of black, glossy hair flowing in the breeze. Yertitia looked sprung to her feet tried to speak, tried to fly after her, but not a word could she articulate not a limb could she move ; and with these efforts awoke. "Och! it's all a dream," said Yertitia, as she sat thinking of the strange sight ; ''but then it was Fiducia; it certainly was, and did'nt she call me Sister, too ! But how did she know J was there? IIow queer!" and she sprung to her feet, to carry the glad news to her lather. i Just as she rose, and looked up, she saw a a hideous monster standing only a few paces from her side. "Poor Yertitia ! she screamed, and threw up her hands, aDd would have fled, affrighted, into the house, but the monster stood directly in the narrow walk, the only egress from the arbor. And she sank back again in her seat, trembling with horror. "Timid as a fawn, eh! foolish girl!" said the monster, in a voice that greatly be-Hed its looks. Yertitia, after a moment, ventured to raise her eyes, with a view to making her escape, when, lo! before her stood one of the most beautiful, smiling creatures she had ever be held. Still would she have fied, but note, alas ! she felt spell-bound to the spot, nor was she able, with all her efforts, to take her eyes from off it. "It's all a cheat, a lie, a delusion," said the new beautiful creature, in the most mild, winning voice. Again did poor Yertitia make an effort to rise, and flee but in vain. "They would cheat ou out of allyour pleas ures, and make life a misery to you," contin ued the creature, in the same sweet, mild voice. "What! what!" exclaimed Yertitia wildly. "This new faith, this life tecome. It's all a moonshine nonsense !" said the creature. "O ! did'nt I see her see her just a little :o ! and doesn't my dear sister live ! live, too, in that strange, happy place?" said Yer titia, in a quick earnest voice, as if the vera city of her sensitive nature had been insulting ly questioned. "Ha! ha! 'ires! yes, may be, to be save ; but then not a whit better off than if she had served the idols of Rome, and siped tho pleasures of the world. Foolish girl ! It's all happiness all heaven hereafter ; and why not live, every one, as they list ? That is to say, if folks Here the smooth speech of the speaker was cut short, by a rustling noise in the dusky air above the arbor; arid at the sound of which the beautiful creature was instantlv re-trans formed into the hideous monster, and with a horrid grin and a quick, loud gnash of the teeth, sunk straitway into the earth, and dis appeared. ertitia, like a bird, released from the fow ler's snare, or the serpent's charm, sped along the narrow walk, and, in a moment, was in the house. "O, father! he told me it was all a cheat a lie a delusion ! that I was fooling away my pleasures," exclaimed Yertitia, as she rushed wildly into the hall, and stood before her fath ertrembling, and deadly pale. Who lxchat told you ?" said Yalens, in astonishment. "Something somebody, Ido'nt know who or what it was. It stood in the walk right be fore me ; at first, frightful-looking ; then, all at once, it became so bright and beautiful, and had such a kind, sweet voice. O ! I won der if it was'nt an angel ." said Yertitia quick ly, her eyes still staring with fright. "Yes! a fallen angel! himself the verv father of lies. " Beware, my daughter ! It was your adversary, the Devil. He would cheat you out of the life to come, ruin you in soul and body forever ; that's his business, depend upon it, a;ul a busy Devil he is," said Yalens in a voice that showed no very good-will to wards the person spoken of. "Bat he seemed so beautiful, father; and had such a smooth, nice way of saying things, it's queer he does'nt appear himself on such business," said Yertitia, thinkingly. "If he did'nt want to deceive, so ha possibly would ; but he transforms himself into an an gel of light, and then lures us by his honeyed words and flattering assurances. Thus he be guiled the common mother of us all, and brought all our sin and misery upon us," said Yaleus, looking up earnestly at his daughter. "-Voir I see, father ; ho was trying to de ceive me ! "O ! I'm so glad you told me, I'll know how to treat him now, should he ever Bhow himself again." "You may oft encounter his assaults, my daughter ; but resist him, and he will flee from thee." "firm- strange!" said Verfitia, after mo ments silente, in a serious, thoughtful voice. "Yes ; strange enough," said Yalens; "but true, my daughter all true. Every inch of our path-way to the life to come is fiercely contested. Let thy soul be ever on its guard. Watch and pray, my daughter. "I trill, father, I'll try." "The Lord bless thee, my daughter. The lot has been cast to us in troublous times, and many and sore are the trials of our faith and patience. But then it's all right all for the best : an exceeding and eternal weight of glory will be ours. The more secere the trials of the present life, the more sweet the joys of the life to come ; heaven will be all the happier to us when we get there." Let thy faith, there fore, be strong, and thy courage cheerful, my daughter ; aud, yet a little while, thou shalt walk in white and join in the songs of anoth er world." Yertitia looked seriously at her father a few minutes, when, her features relaxing, and her Jarge blue eyes sparkling with a strange glow of animation, she exclaimed : "O ! father, did'nt I see Fiduci see ray dear sister there, in that very world!" Yalens said nothing, only, that he looked at his daughter, while his eyes quickly filled with tears. "I did see her," continued Yertitia; "it was n't a dream 1 think it wasn't, father. I was there myself so, at least, it seemed hid be hind a knoll of flowers. I saw them coming a long train of white forms and, afraid, con cealed myself; how foolish that was in me, father, wasn't it? But as the train passed where I was, I was peeping through the flow ers at them, one came running nimbly tow ards me, and smiling, and looking right at the bunch of flowers, called out, "Sister," and then sped away again. Oh! it was Fiducia, it was, father! I tried to speak tried to fly after her, but couldn't. It wasn't a dream was it ? But how did she know was there, father ?" "They shall go from strength to strength, my daughter, and things that impossible here, may be very possible there. Now we see and know in part only, but there we shall see and knoie as we are known," said Yalens, wiping the tears from his eyes. "O! how I do Avish these thinks weren't dreams," said Yertitia, with a sigh. "It matters not, my daughter, whether they are seen in the body or out of it, they are glorious realities, and we have these glimpses of the coming life, in this world, for our com fort and encouragement. "O! I wish I were there there noir, father, it's such a bright, beautiful world. It has such sweet flowers such sweet music, and the people look so happy there. O! how I would like to be one of that that train, aud walk in in white at the side of my dear sister it would be so delightful, and I should be so happy then," said Yertitia, sorrowful. "In duo season we shall reap, if wefaintnot, my daughter. For the present, we must en dure as good soldiers of the cross. By and by, the life to come, with its robes, and crowns,and harps, aud songs will be ours ours forever!" "But it's time we were on our way to the Cat acombs; it's late quite. Be ready as soon as possible, my daughter," said Yalens, rising from his scat, and leaving the hall. 'Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn, Press onwiird to the prize; Soon our Saviour will return. Triumphant in tho skies. Yet a season, and you know, Happy entrance will be given ; All our sorrows left below, And earth exchanged for heaven." To be continued. STEEL PEN MAKING. The process is a very interesting one, and the work is done by machinery. The steel is rolled and otherwise prepared to bo cut into pens by means of a press, in which the proper tools are fitted for cutting out the 'blank.' Women work these presses, and one hand will cut 28,000 to S0,000 per day. When the blanks are cut, they are pierced that is, the central hole and side slits are made at anoth er press; after which they are sortencd by the application of heat, being placed in a heating oven for that purpose,. They are then marked by the aid of a die, worked by the foot, which stamps the uamc of the maker on the back. The pens have next to be placed in a groove and con verted from a flat surface into a cylindical form. The next operation is to place them in small iron boxes and piled iu a furnace or hot oven, where the pens are heated with a white heat. On being withdrawn, they are plunged into oil, which renders them so brittle, that they might be crumbled to pieces with the fingers. They are place in a cylinder, not unlike a coffee roaster, and revolved over a fire, which process frees them in a great measure from the oil. The heat changes their color from grey to straw color, next brown or bronze, and then to a blue, and renders them thoroughly elastic. As they emerge from the process with a con siderable degree of roughness, they are put into tin cans, with a quantitw of sawdust ; and Iteiog made to revolve by means of steam, they came out clean and smooth, ready to be ground an operation performed by young girls, holding them by the aid of a pair of nip pers, for a moment over a grinding wheel. They are then slit, an operation performed so quickly by means of a press, that one hand will slit one hundred grogs a day. After , this thay ore sorted, varnished nnd readv for sale. THE WITCH WIFE. by jobs c. whittier. When a boy, I occasionally met at the house of a relative in the adjoining town, a stout, red-nosed old farmer of the neighborhood. A fine tableau he made of a winter's evening, in the red light of a birch log Are, as he sat for hours watching its progress, with, half shut eyes, changing his position only to reach the cider mug on the shelf near him. Althongh he seldom opened his lips save to assent to some remark of his host, or to answer a direct question, yet at times, when the cider mug got the better of his taciturnity ,he would amuse us with interesting details of his early expe riences in the "Ohio Country." There was, however, one chapter in these experiences which he usually held in reserve, and with which "the stranger intermeddled not." He was not willing to run the risk of having what was a brightful reality turned into ridicule by scoffers aud unbelievers. The substance of it as I received it from one of his neighbors, forms as clever a tale of witchcraft as modern times have produced. It seems that when quite a young man he left the homestead, and strolling westward, worked his way-from place to place until he found himself in one of the Frencli settlements on the Ohio river. Here he procured employ ment on the farm of a widow; and being asraart, active fellow, and proving highly serviceable iu his department, he rapidly gained favor in the eyes of his employer. Ere long, contrary to the advice of the neighbors, and in spite of somewhat discouraging hints touching certain matrimonial infelicities experienced by the late husband, he resolutely stepped into the dead man's shoes, tho mistress became the wife, and the servant was legally promoted to the head of the household For a time matters went on cosily and com fortably enough. lie was now lord of the soil; and he had laid in his crops of corn and pota toes, salted down his pork, and piled up his wood for winter's use, he naturally enough congratulated himself upon his good fortune, and laughed at the sinister forebodings of his neighbors. But with the long winter months came a change over his "love's young dream." An evil and mysterious influence seemed to be at work in his afiairs. Whatever he did after consulting his wife, or at her suggestions, re sulted favorably enough ; but all his schemes and projects were unaccountably marred and defeated. If he bought a horse, it was sure to prove spavined and wind broken. His cows either refused to give down their milk, or giv ing it perversely kicked it over. A fine sow which he bad bargained for, repaid his parti ality by devouring, like Saturn, her own chil dren. By degrees, a dark thought forced its way into his mind. Comparing his repeated mischances with the ante-nuptial warnings of his neighbors, he at last came to the melancholy conclusion that his wile was a witch. The victim in Moth erwell's ballad of the Demon Lady, or the poor fellow in the Arabian tale who discovered that he had married a goul in the guise of a young and blooming princes, was scarcely in a more sorrowful predicament. He grew nervous and fretful. OKI dismal nursery stories and all the witch lore of boyhood came back to his memory; and he crept to his bed like a crimi nal to the gallows, half afraid to fali asleep lest his mysterious companion should take a fancy to transform him into a horse, get him shod at the smithy and ride him to a witch meeting. And, as if to make the matter worse, his wife's affection seemed to increase just in proportion as his troubles thickened upon him. She ag gravated him with all manner of caresses and endearments. This was the drop too much. The poor husband recoiled from her as from a waking nightmare. His thoughts turned to New England; belonged to sen once more the old homestead, with its tall wellswcep and but ternut trees by the roadside; and he sighed amidst the rich bottom lands of his new home for his father's rocky pasture, with its crop of stinted mulleins. So one cold November day, finding himself out of sight and hearing of his wife, he summoned courage to attempt an escape, and resolutely turning his back on the west, plunged into the wilderness towards the sunrise. After a hard and long journey he reached his birthplace, and was kindly wel comed by his old friends. Keeping a close mouth with respect to his unlucky adventure in Ohio, he soon after married one of hisscool raates, and by dint of persevering industry and economy, in a few years, found himself in pos session of a comfortable home. But his evil star lingered above the horizon. One summer evening on returning from the hay-field, who should meet him but his witch wife from Ohio! She came riding up the road on her old white horse, with a pillion behind the saddle. Accosting him in a kindy tone, yet not without something of gentle reproach for his unhandsome desertion of her, she in formed him that she had come all the way from Ohio to take him back again. It was iu vain that he pleaded bis latter en gagements; it was in vain that, hia new wife raised her shrillest remonstrances, not un roingled with expressions of vehement indig nation at the revelation of hr husband's real position the witch wife was inexorable, go he must, and that speedily. Fully impressed withabelief in her supernatural power of com pelling obedience, and perhaps dreading more than witchcraft itselftheeff'-etsofthe uulucky disclosure on the temper of his New England helpmate, he made a virtue of the necessity of the case, bade farewell to the latter amidst a perfect hurricane of reproaches, and mounted the whith horse, with his old wife on the pil lion behind him. Of that ride Burger might have written a counterpart tohis ballad: 'Tramp, tramp, along the shore they ride, Splash, splash, along the sea " Two or three years had passed away, bring ing no tidings of the unfortunate husband, when lie once more made his appearance in his native village. He was not disposed to be very communicative; but for one thing, at least, he seemed willing to express his grati tude. His Ohio wife having no spell against intermittent fever, had paid the debt of nature and left him free, in view of which, his sur viving wife, after manifesting a due degree of resentment, consented to take him back to her bed and board: and I could never learn that she had cause to regret her clemency. 0S2 OF KENDALL'3 ST0BIE3. Kendall, of the Picayune, who has recently joined the Texas Rangers, writes the follow ing "good one" from Matamoras: Hare nags may be found among the Texas Volunteers, yet the funniest fellow of all is a happy-go-lucky chap, named Bill Dean, one of the Chevalier's spy company, and said to be one of the best "seven up" players in Texas. While at Corpus Christi. a lot of us were sit ting out in the stoop of the Kinney IIouse,ear ly one morning, when along came Bill Dean. He did not know a single soul ia the crowd, although ho knew we were all bound for the Rio Grande ; yet the fact that the regular for malities of an introduction had not been gone through with, did not prevent him from stop ping short in his walk and accosting us. His speech, or rather harrangue, or whatev er it may be termed, will lose much in the telling, yet I will endeavor to put it upon paper in as good shape as possible. "O, yes," said he, with a knowing leer of the eye; "O, yes; all goin' down among the robbers on tho Bio Grande, are you I Fine times you'll have, over the left. I've been there myself, and done what a good many of you won't do I come back ; but if I didn't see nateral h 1 in August at that I am a tea pot. Lived eight days on one poor hawk and three blackberries couldn't kill a prairie rat on the whole route to save us from starvation. The ninth day came, and we struck a small streak of good luck a horse give out, and broke down, plump out in to the centre of an open praric not a stick in sight big enough to tickle a lattlesnake with, let alone killing him. Just had time to sive the critter by shooting him, and that was all, for in three minutes longer he'd hn.v lied a nateral death. It didn't take us long to butcher him, nor long to cut oil some chunks of meat and stick 'em on our ramrods; but the cookin' was another matter. I piled up a heap ;f prairie grass, for it was high and dry, and sot it on fire, but it flash ed up like powder and as quick. But " "But," put in one of his hearers, "but how did you cook your horse meat alter this?"' "IIow ?" "Yes, how I" "Whj-, the fire caught tho high grass close by, and the wind carried the flames streakin' across the prairie. I followed up the fire holding my chunk of meat directly over the hottest blaze, and the way we went it was a caution to anything short of a locomotive'sdo ings. Once in a while a little flurry of wind would come along, and the fire would get a few yards the start; but I'd brush upon her w ith my chunk and then we'd have it again, nip and tuck. You never seed such a tight race it was beautiful." "Very, we've no doubt," ejaculated one of the listeners, interruping the mad wag just in season to give him a little breath ; "but did you cook your meat in the end ?" 'Not bad I didn't. I chased the d d fire a mile and a half, the almighticst hardest race you ever heerd tell on, and never gavo it up until I run her right plump into a wet marsh ; there the fire and chunk of horse meat came out even a dead beat, especially the meat?" "But wasn't it cooked?" put in another of the listeners. Cooked? No! crusted just over a little. You don't cook broken down horse flesh very easily, no how ; but when it comes to chasm' up a prairie fire with a chunk of it, I don't know which is the toughest, the meat or the job. You'd have laughed to split yourself to have seen me in the race to see the fire leave me at times, and then to see me a brushin' up on her agin, humpin' and movin' myself as though I was runnfn' agin some of these big ten mile an hour Gildersleeves in the old States. But I'm a goin over to Jack Haynen's to get a cocktail and a breakfast. I'll see yon all down among the robbers on the Rio Grande." And so saying, Bill Dean stalked off. I saw the chap this morning in front of a Mexican fondu, trying to talk Spanish with a "Greas er," and endeavoring, to convince him that he was a "d d robber." Such is one of Bill Dean's stories; if I could only make it as effective on paper as he did in the telling, it would draw Uugh from those fond of the ludicrous. WHAT IS A MIJTIE EIFLE 1 Every account received from the war in tho Criemea is loud in praise of the "Minic Rifle." These fire arms in the hands of good marks men, deal certain destruction at an immenso distance, and the wholesale slaughter of the Russian gunners at the battles ol Sevastopol, has won for this weapon of death, the soubri quet of "King of Fire Arms." So dreaded is this fatal ball that a Russian gunner goes to hia station at an embrasure as to certain death. The barrel of a rifle has, running the length of its inner surface, spiral grooves or channels hence the name of rifle, which means zreled oi a grooved gun. The object of a rifled bar rel is to give greater precision to the ball, by communicating to it a rotary motion. This motion it receives on its passage out of the gun, provided the ball is so crowded into the barrel as to fill up partially or entirely the grooves; and the more perfectly the ball fits into the barrel, the trued its course, and the less windage there is: that is, the less space thero is between the ball and barrel for the strength of the powder to escape. It is estima ted that when tho windage is only l-20th of the calibre of the gun, one-third of the powder escapes, and ofcour.se the strength is lost. The groat object therefore to be obtained, Is a perfect fit to the barrel by the ball, thus to give the rotary motion, and to save the powder. A French gunsmith invented a rifle which had its breech pin project wedge shaped,about two inches into the barrel. The ball, a coni cal shaped one, was then dropitcd into the barrel, and a few heavy blows by the raara mer, drove the wedge or piu into the the ball so as to fill the grooves in the barrel,. The minie ball, now so famous, is an im provement upon all balls, inasmuch as it makes the powder slug or spread the ball, In stead of the rammer doing that work. Tne ball is oblong with a conical point. In its base it has a conical hollow running half or two-thirds the length of the ball. A cup made of sheet iron is placed in the ori-lco of this hol low, which at the instant of firing is driven,by the powder with great force into the ball, thus spreading it open, so as in its course out, to perfectly slug or fill the grooved barrel. This accomplishes the whole object ; it s tves timo in ramming, it destroys windage, thus econo mising in powdT, and makes the ball perfect ly fit the barrel so as to give the ball a com. pletc rotary motion, and certainty of direction. Thus the Minie improvement taking its name from a French officer named Minie is a minie ball, not a mine rifle. The conical shape of tha bullet gives it greater weight of metal than a round one, affords less resistance to the air, and greatly increases the distance it can be thrown. This shaped ball, however, has been used for a long time by sportsmen. A Paris correspondent of the N. Y. Tribun some months since, was witness to experi ments made by Major Minie himself with his ball, and saw that ofneer plant three balls in succession in a target the tsize of a man's hat at a distance of three-fourths of a mile. And this officer said he could do it all day long and teach any other man to do so. It is not to be wondered at that tho Russians have a horrorof the French hasseurs uo'd their minie ball. The present popularity of the rifle owes its origin to the skill of American sharp shooters, bred and trained in our new se'ttkments, and who in our Indian and other wars have shown the efficiency of the rifle ball in picking off officers, gunners and prominent objects ; but its perfection, we imagine, has been accom plish .'J in the hands cf the French. MAKING BRIDES. A traveler in Germany says: "The Ger mans, by the way, have a queer way of making brides,' and of doing some other things in the courting and marrying way which may in terest you perhaps. When a maiden is be trothed, she is called -bride,' and so contin ues till she becomes wife.' All the while she is engaged she is a 'bride.' The lovers, imme diately upon the bethrothal, exchange plain gold rings, which are ever worn afterwards till death parts them. The woman wears hers on the third finger of her left hand, and when she becomes 'wife,' her ring is transferred to the third finger of the right hand, and there it remains. The husband always wears his ring just as the wife wears hers, so that if you look upon a man's hand you can tell whether he is mortgaged or not. There is no cheating for him ever after no coquetting with the girls, as if he were an unmarried man; for lo ! the whole story is told by his finger ring. A married Viennese lady was much amused when I told her that in our country we only 'ring' the women, but let the husband run at large unmarked! 'Oh, that is dreadful!' said she, more than half shocked. 'Think, then is Frederick, iny husband only twenty-four so young, so handsome and all the girls would be taking him for an unmarried man, and be making love to him ! Oh, it is dreadful, is it not? They would never know he waa married. I would not live there if Uh Freder ick for the world.' 07 The best thing to give your enemy, U forgiveness; to your opponent, tolerance; to a frieud, your heart; to your child, a good ex ample; to a father, deference; to your mother, conduct that will make her proud of her ton ; to yoursif, rpct; to Gd, ob4inc. I; m ft ii J! i : I i 3