u u
I
A
i
COME AND TAKE ME. Duvivier.
VOL. 1.
CLEARFIELD, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 1855.
NO." 29.
JSs&sPzxfl ' Jfhbi L' - L V.--O' W' . l-
,f 3Z&j0r . - Sf
; . :: :
KAFTSMAS'S JOURNAL.
Ben. Jones, Publuher.
" Per. annum, (payablo in advance,) SI 30
If paid within the year, . ,-2 00
o paper discontinued until all arrearages arc
paid.
A failure to notify a discontinuance at the eipi-
ra.ton or tne lenn subscribed lor, will be consicier
ed anew engagement.
LICENSED FOR WnAT.
Licensed to make the strong man weak ;
Licensed to lay the wise man low ;
Licensed a wife's fond heart to break,
And make her children's tears to flow.
Liconsed to do thy neighbor harm ;
Licensed to kindle hate and strife ;
Licensed to nerve the robber's arm ;
Licensed to whet the murderer's knife.
Licensed thy neighbor's purse to drain,
And rob him of his very last ;
Licensed to heat his feverish brain,
'Till madness crowns thy work at last.
Licensed, like spider for a fly,
To spread thy nets for man, thy prey ;
To mock his struggles suck him dry
Then cast the worthless hulk away
Licensed, where peace and quiet dwell,
To bring disease, and want, and woe ;
Licensed to make this world a hell,
And fit man for a hell below.
PUMPX1IT PIE-TY FOB THANKSGIVING.
Tell me not of beef and mustard,
Buckwheat cakes, wheat bread or rye;
Puddings vile or mawkish custard,
But'give ma the Pumpkin Pic.
Take away your nas ty taters,
From such base born things I fly ;
He who to my relish caters.
Must fetch on the Pumpkin Pic !
If tho boon to man was given
Choice of death, by which to die,
Mine would usher me to heaven.
Eating hunks of Pumpkin Tie!
(Original Born! Cnlr.
(WRITTEN FOB THE JOURNAL. I
THE - .
:0:
COPYRIGHT
:(:
SECTRED.
CHAPTER XIV.
The exciting, shifting course of events re
quires us again to introduce the Jewess, and
her bright, blue-eyed, intelligent boy.
We lftt them in a talk about the shaded val- i
Ijv of death the boy seated by the old family
harp, and looking np into his mother's face,
with a strange, thoughtful gaze.
Since then together, perhaps, with a lew
christian friends, many such like precious sea
sons had been enjoyed seasons of social con
verse and praise. And the time had glided as
pleasantly and profitably away, as it could well
have done, under the circumstances, the boy
rapidly progressing in knowledge, and the mo
ther maturing fastly for the coming glories.
Kesidmg in a retired part of the city, at a
long distance from the scenes of death andhor-
ror then going on,and surrounded by the poor-
er and less-noticed classes, the mother had
felt herself and boy hitherto quite secure. For
a night or two past, however, small detach
mcnts of soldiers had dashed past the door,
shouting their accustomed imprecations ; and
she had, in consequence, experienced no little
uneasiness in her lonely ,unprotected condition
But her trust was in the God of Israel,whose an
gel encampeth round about them that fear Him
And then her sweet, darling boy ! "Was he
not more to her than many angels ? Did he not
far excel all others in the maturity of hitpow
ers? And was there not in his mild, soft blue
eyes a soniething more than earthly ? a spir-j
ituality,that pointed her to him as the special
gift of heaven, to cheer her widowed hours.
and throw a bright sunshine all aloug the fu
ture of her life. So she felt thought; and
as, betimes, a sense of loneliness would steal
over her, or some distrustful fear flit across
her mind, a look at the mystic eyes, or a touch
of the soft, curled hair, or a kiss impressed on
the white, transparent cheek of her boy, would
instantly tranquilize her soul, and fill it with a
strange, mysterious joy.
Then every spare moment found them to-
gether in the little anti-chamber, the boy re
clining in his dear mother's arras, and, look
ing up brightly in her face, making his inqui
ries about the life to come; while lici hand res
ted delicately on his forehead, or her fingers
adjusted, with a mother's pride, his soft, curl
ing locks:, or, as they were often wont, they
would sing together some favorite nymn of the
Christians, or some of the sweet songs of Isra
el, the old harp never failing to do its part at
such times. They are thus engaged at present,
and have been for an hour or more. They had
just been singing one of Israel's plaintive songs,
and the tears which it had drawn from the mo
ther's eyes, are still fresh on her cheeks. It
had awaked the fond memories of other days,
and recalled vividly to her mind some sad
things in her nation's history.
"O! I should like to sing that sweet song of
Israel again ; though I see it makes you sad,
mother," said tha boy, hesitatingly. .
"Yes, my child, it does, but I love to sing
it, more so now than ever, for I feel more for
Tay poor, dear people now."
In a moment, the boy's fingers were again
on the strings of tbe harp, and their voices ri
sing in blended strains to heaven.
"By the rivers of Babylon, there we set down ;
i' i ;r i -vu n i cuivuiuci ou tiuu. imcicoi, i " tftc. iuiuuv uaupv piacu v; 11 in: ana.
DlTd Oar DAmc Aft fh wttlsvwei In th m
For tw that tarried cTptivrrequiVed of ui a IT" l W mother!", and a big tear the,
Tif'- WMW unrequired of as mirth, oong; vrlwo le" "om his eyes. - to get
,U,I00S,0! ( -Mjoa Dies you. my child, arid
"Was that your people the Jews, mother ?"
inquired the boy, looking up earnestly in his
mother's face. : ' '
The tears: were coursing freely down her
cheeks, while, seated close by bis side, her
hand rested on his shoulder. ' '
"Yes, my child," said she, wiping the tears
from her eyes, "they were my 'fathers, and
many were their afflictions."
"But why were they carried into BabyIon,so
far away from their own country ?"
"Because of their sins, my child."
There was a short silence the boy gazing
thoughtfully at the harp, and carelessly touch
ing its strings with his fingers, while the mother
leaned her head sorrowfully on his shoulder.
"I don't wonder your people wept, so far
away, in that strange land ; I think I would
have wept, too."
"Yes, my child, their beautiful temple -on
mount Zion, and all the pleasant things they
had had there, came up to their remembrance
and drew bitter tears from their eyes. Even
the recollection of one's early home, and the
sunny pleasures of youth, in certain condi
tions of life, may sadden the heart."
"But why did your people hang their harps
on the willows Couldn't they sing in that
strange land as well as in any other? Isn't it
our duty, too, mother, to praise God in every
place, wherever we are ?"
'Perhaps, they were in fault, my child, but
their sorrow and anguis hwere too great.
There is a sorrow so intense, that music is only
an aggravation of it, and seems to do violence
to the feelings. Ah ! my dear child, my people
were then called to a time of weeping and
mourning only, and they hung up their harps,
and mingled their tears with the sullen waters.
'But, sing on," said the mother. ..
In a moment his fingers were on the harp
strings,
"If I forget the, O Jerusalem, let my right hand
forget her cunning.
If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave
to the roof of my mouth ;
If I prefer not Jclusalem before my Chief Joy."
Here the boy suddenly stopped, and quickly
turned his blue.sparkling eyes up at his mother.
"O ! how I should like to go to that place
Jerusalem ! How your poor, dear people must
have loved it !" said he. ;
"Yes, dearly dearly ! ' my child ; but it
was worthy thin of their love."
"And, O.! wasn't it there, the 'sweet singer
of Israel' himself lived."
"Yes, my child, but there're no such singers
there now. The glory of Israel has departed.
Her happiest and best days are gone. Her ol
ive yards and vineyards lie waste her flocks
are scattered upon her mountains her sons
and daughters are wandering afar without a
home or shelter; they are a poor, afflicted
guilty people," said the mother, with a sigh.
"Guilty! O, yes they put the dear, blessed
Saviour to death. TTnw linrrid drpadfnl'n thino-
that was in th mother , Wasn,t it ?
"Yes; but they knew not what they did."
"Didn't they know he was the dear Saviour,
mother ?" .......
"No; their eyes were blinded."
"Then,they may be saved,too mayn't they?'
"They were not the less jruilty, on that ac
count, my child; but there's salvation for them
as well as others, if they repent and believe.
Many of them did repent, and the very blood
which their own hands had shed, washed away
their sins."
"What a Saviour! what love, too" exclaim
ed the boy, almost in an extacy. "O! I should
le to S there, to see the land where he liv-
ed where he died. I might see the very cross
itself stained with his dear, precious blood.
But I know I shall never go, mother."
These last words were uttered with a low,
solemn, hestating voice ; and as they were
spoken, he hung his head, and looked, sor
rowful, at the floor. She gazed upon him a
moment, surprised, but said quickly :
"Perhaps you may, my child, when you
grow older. If I'm spared, we may visit the
land together. I should like to die there, and
be laid in the sepulchres of my fathers. It's
been in my mind many a year ; a foolish de
sire, perhaps, but natural,-1 think." ' !
The boy still sat with his eyes fixed on the floor.
"It's nigh the hour of meeting, my child ;
you d better go before it's late, if you still
think you must go. It'll be dark to-night, I
guess," said the mother, rising from her seat,
and looking out at a small window. -
Again she re-seated herself at his side.
"I must go, mother, I feel I must; but I
was thinking thinking, mother, of another
Jerusalem the JVew Jerusalem on high. That's
a better and happier place still. There their
narps are an gold, and they're all sweet sin-
ers there like David, and there I can see the
dear, blessed Saviour face to face. I'd rather
go there ; I think I'd be willing to go at any
time, if it wasn't for leaving you, mother."
The mother made no reply, but impressed a
fond kiss on the cheek of her darling boy.
"We're never, too young to die, are we,
mother, if we are only ready?" said he, at the
same time, laying his hand on her's.
."And do you feel ready, my child ?"
"I do, mother I feel my sins are all washed
aay ny tne aear .fcaviour's blood. I feel some
times too, as if I must go to where he is soon
keep you I
under his care to-night. Be watchful, and keep
along that quiet, narrow street, till you arrive
at the gate. They're all quiet, good people
along there, no one will disturb you. Re
turn as soon as you can after the meeting's
over I shall be lonely."
' "I shall I'll return quickly, as I can. You'll
see me again, mother. But you musn't weep
when I'm gone; I mean, gone to-night," he
added, after a moment's pause.
Saying this, he-threw himself into his moth
er's arms, and embraced her again and again ;
and though a bright smile played over -his
white, transparent features, his eyes, all the
while, were filled with tears.
"The Lord bless thee, mother we'll meet
again," and, rising quickly from her knees, he
hurried out, and set off down the crooked,
narrow street, at quite a run.
The poor mother followed him to the door
followed him with her prayers followed
him with her eyes, till his light, agile form
wasjlost in the darkness.
She then returned to the little chamber,and
throwing herself back in her seat, thanked
God for such a child for such a bright angel
gift; and then, her good heart fairly tremblin
with the l ull, gushing tide of her joys, she se
herself expertly about sewing at a small arti
cle of dress for him, which she hoped to hav
finished by his return.
And now the reader may as well take
glance at her person. Though seated, you can
easily see that her form is tall, slender, and
delicate. Her hair is a light auburn; her com
plexion fair, with rather a peculiar whiteness
about it. Her featuies arj fine and regularly
formed; and although her countenance is indie
ative of a more than ordinary seriousness, yet
as she now appears, busy at her sewing,no bet
ter specimen could be wished of the true
kind-hearted woman, or the wise, prudent
affectionate mother.
To be continual.
mnllmmus.
BACE FOB A HUSBAND.
mere uvea m irioucester county, 2i. J., an
old widower, named Peter, who was an odd
compound of whim and caprice; his circum
stances were net affluent, nor yet indigent,
but were considered "comfortable." . At no
great distance from his farm resided a buxom
widow, about four feet in height, and it was
said that her altitude was nearly the true
gauge of the circumference of her waist. In
the same direction, though further from the
residence of Peter, lived another widow, nam
ed Amey. These ladies were competitors for
the favorable regards of the widower. Peter's
mind was long divided which of the two wid
ows should have the preference. Amey 'was
beyond doubt the most beautiful, but then
Christiana was corpulent, and of course there
was "more of her." Heat last hit upon an
expedient to bring the affair to a conclusion,
lie wrote a billet to each, jnirporting that he
had also sent for her competitor, and was re
solved to marry the one who should first arrive
at his house; a lid was dispatched with the
pair of billets and first delivered the one ad
dressed to Amey, whose residence was the
most remote from that of the love-sick swain.
She immediately ordered her fleetest horse to
be saddled, while she arrayed herself in her
best attire. By a very lucky chance, a stout
horse stood saddled at the gate of Christiana,
who was ready dressed to pay a visit to a neigh
bor when the messenger delivered the billet;
she quickly mounted her courser, but no soon
er had she got into the road that led to Peter's
house, and cast her eyes in the direction to
wards Amey's residence,, than she saw her
rival rushing after her with the swiftness of
the wind; andaway went Christiana and Amey,
whipping for dear life, with their bonnets
gracefully hanging on their backs. Both la
dies being equally mounted, Christiana pre
served the lead, and after a race of a quarter
of a mile, she bounced into Peter's door, ex
claiming: ' Wellhere I am, Peter I got here
first!" The old gentleman expressed his hap
piness at the result, and took the fast widder
for better or for worse.
TF"The following is the style of oath used
by the Chinese in the Courts of California ;
"Hong Tong chock shen ye shat Ion sat ho
mow re rock yay sock mou san tin Kamshat
kong shap pat chong ye cum shock shing teck
yany an kaSK t(I give my oath in
8 Publlc court to give evidence with the
lmtb an1 w"hout any particle of partiality.
x uc,li"n "ai me neaveniy uod will ex
amine into it, and send down his calamity on
me ; although, if my oath be a true one, his
blessing will be bestowed upon me."
The above oath is written upon yellow pa
per, signed -by the one who takes the oath,
and burned in court. The oath sworn in China
gives the blood of the witness to the devil if
he tells a lie. ':
A Knotty Problem. The Chinese are said
to have labored for centuiies under great em
barrassment, from not knowing how to make
a barrel. They could, without any difficulty,
make the staves, set them up, and hoop them
indeed, with the help of a man inside,
i could put the second head on; but how
the man out after the barrel was headed
that was the question.
A HOLY PACK OF CARDS.
Richard Middleton, a British soldier, lately
attended devine service with the rest of bis re
giment, in a church in Glasgow. Instead of
pulling out a Bible tofind the parsons text, he
spread a pack of cards before him. This be
havior was observed by the clergyman and the
sergeant of the company to which he belon
ged. The latter ordered him to put up the
cards, and on his refusal, conducted him after
service before the Mayor, and preferred a for
mal complaint of Richard's indecent hebavior
"Well soldier," said the Mayor, "what ex
cuse have you to offer ? If you can make an
apology it is well; if not, you shall be severely
punished."
"Since your honor is so good,'? replied Rich-
aid, "as to permit me to speak for myself, an't
please your worship, I have been eight days
on the march with the bare allowance of six
pence per day, and consequently could not
have a Bible or any other good book." On
saying this, Richard drew out his pack of cards,
and presenting one of tha aces to the Mayor,
continued his address to the magistrate as fol
lows: "When I see an ace, may it please your
honor, it reminds me that there is only one
God; and when I look upon a two or three, the
former puts me in mind of the Father and Son,
and the latter, of the Father, Son and Holy
Ghost; a four, of the four Evangelists, Mat
thew,- Mark,' Luke and John; a five, the five
virgins who were ordered to trim their lamps,
(there were ten, indeed,) but five, your wor
ship may remember, were wise, and five were
foolish; a six, that in six days God created
Heaven and earth; a seven, that on the seventh
day he rested from all that he had made; and
eight, of the eight righteous persons who
were saved from the deluge, viz: Noah and
his wileaud three sons, and their wives; a nine,
of the lepers cleansed by our Saviour, (there
were ten, but only one offered his tribute of
thanks;) and a ten, of the ten commandments."
Richard then took the knave, placed it be
side him, and passed on to the queen, on which
he observed as follows.: :
"This queen . reminds me of the Queen of
Sheba, who came from the uttermost parts of"
the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, as
b;;r companion "the" king does of the great
King of Heaven, and of King George the Sec
ond."
'Well,' returned the Mayor, 'you have giv
en me a good description of all tbe cards ex
cerpt the knave.'
'If your honor will not be angry with me,'
returned Richard, 'I can give you the same
satisfaction on that, as any in the pack.
'No,' said the Mayor.
'Well,' returned the soldier, 'the greatest
knave I know is the sergent who brought me
before vou.' "
'I don't know,' replied the Mayor, 'whether
he be the greatest knave on not; but I am
sure he is the greatest fool.' .
The soldier then continued as follows:
'When I count the number of dots in a pack
of cards, there are three hundred and sixty
five so many days are there in a year. The
cards in a pack are fifty-two so many weeks
are there in a year. When I recon how many
tricks there are iu a pack, I find there are
twelve so many months are in a year. So
that a pack of cards is both Bible and almanac
and prayer-book to me.' . .
The Mayor called his servants, ordered
them -to entertain the soldier well, gave him
a piece of money, and said he was the clever
est fellow he ever heard in all his life.
By and Bv. There is music enough in these
three words for the burden of a song. There
s a hope wrapped up in them, and an articu
late beat of a human heart.
By and by ? We heard it as long ago as we
can remember, when we made brief but peri
lous journeys from chair to table, and from ta
ble to chair again.
We heard it the'other day when two parted
that had been "loving in their lives," one to
California, the other to our lonely home. -
Everybody says it sometime or other. The
boy whispers it to himself when he dreams of
exchanging the stubbed little shoes for boots,
like a man.
The man murmurs it when in life's middle
watch he sees his plans half finished, and his
hopes yet in the bud, waving in a cold late
spring.
The old man says it when he thinks of put
ting off the mortal for the immortal, to-day
for to-morrow.
The weary watcher for the morning, while
away the dark hours with "by and by bv and
by." . , - " ,: .
Sometimes it sounds like a song; sometimes
there is a sigh or a sob in It. What wouldn't
the world give to find it in the almanac set
down somewhere, no matter if iu the dead of
December to know that it would surely come.
But fairy-like as ifis, flittering like a star
beam over the dewy shadows of the years, no
body can square it and when we look back
upon the many times these .words have be
guiled us, the memory of that silver by and
by is like the sunrise of Ossian, pleasant but
mournful to the soul !"
rxlt is said that a pretty pair of eyes are
the best mirror for a man to shave by. Ex
actly bo; and it is unquestionably the case
that many a man has been shaved by them.
ART OF A YANKEE PAINTER.
A person who kept an inn by the rpad side,
went to a painter, who, for a time, had set up
his easel not a hundred miles from LakeOnta
rio, and inquired tor what sum the painter ing in the midst of a sale of some rnsty look
would paint him a bear for a sign-board. It ing old books. The auctioneer produces two
was to be "a real good one," that would at
tract customers.
'Fifteen dollars,' replied the painter.
'That's too much,' said the innkeeper; 'Tom
Larkins will do it for ten.
The painter cogitated for a moment. He
did not like his rival should get a commission
in preference to himself, although it was only
for a sign-board.
'Is it to be a wild or tame bear?' he inquired.
'A wild one, to be sure !'
'With a chain or without one ?': again asked
the painter. "
'With a chain.'
'Well, I will paint you a wild bear, without
a chain, for ten dollars.'
The bargin was struck, the painter set to
work, and in due time sent home the signboard,
on which he had painted a huge brown bear,
of a most ferocious aspect. The signboard
was the admiration of all the neighborhood,
and drew plenty of customers to the inn; and
the innkeeper knew not whether to congratu
late himself more upon the possession of so
attractive a sign, or on having secured it for
the little sum often dollars
Time slipped on, his barrels were emptied,
and his pockets filled. Everything went on
thrivingly for three weeks, when, one night,
there arose a violent storm of rain and wind,
thunder and lightning, of the kind so common
in North America, and which pass over with
almost as much rapidity as they rise. When
the innkeeper awoke next morning, the sun
was shining, the birds singing, and all traces
of the storm had passed away. He looked up
anxiously to ascertain that his sign was safe.
There it was, sure enough swinging to and fro
as usual, but the bear had disappeared. The
innkeeper could scarcely believe his eyes.
Full of anger and surprise he ran to the pain
ter, and related what had happened. The
painter looked up coolly from his work:
'Was it a wild bear or a tame one V
: 'A wild bear.'
'Was it chained or not V
' 'I guess not.'
'Then,' cried the painter, triumphantly,
how could you expect a wild bear to remain
in such a storm as that of last night without a
chain?'
The innkeeper had nothing to say against so
conclusive an argument, and finally agreed to
give the painter fifteen dollars to paint for
him another wild bear, with a chain, that
would not take to the woods in the next storm.
For the benefit of our readers, it may be
necessary to mention that the roguish painter
had painted the first bear in water-colors, which
had been washed away by the rain; the second
bear was painted in oil colors, and was, there
fore, able to stand the weather.
Ligut Suppers. One of the great secrets of
health is a light supper, and yet it is a great
self-denial, when one is hungry and tired at
the close of the day, to eat little or nothing.
Let such a one tako leisurely a single cup of
tea and a piece of cold bread with butter, and I
he will leave the table as fully pleased with
himself and all the world, as if he had eaten a
heavy meal, and be tenfold the better for it the
next morning. Take any two men under sim
ilar circumstances, strong, hard-working men,
of twenty-five years; let on-j take his bread and
butter with a cup of tea, and the other a hearty
meal of meat, bread, potatoos, and the ordina
ry et ceteras, as the last mc-al of the day, and I
will venture to affirm, that the tea-drinker
will outlive the other by thirty years.
tlF'T wo darkeys iu the west went out to hunt
possoms, and by accident found a large cave-
with a small entrance. Peeping in, they obser- !
ved three young bear whelps in the interior.
'Look heah, Sam, while I go dar and git de
young bars, you jest watch here forde ole bar.' I
Sam got asleep in the sun, when opening his
eyes, he saw the old bear scrouging her way
into the cave. Quick as wind he caught her
bv the tail and held on like blazes.
'Hollow, dar, Sam, what dark de hole dar V
'Lor bless you Jumby save yourself honey, ef
dis tail come out you'll know what dark de hole! '
Social Distinction. I sees Missus Jonsing
dat you got anodder white gal workin for you.'
'Yes, I'se had her dese free weeks !' 'What
de cause of your preference ob dese white
gals, honey ?' 'Why de fac am when you gets
one ob de colored gals dey tinks dars an ekality
and makes demselyes too familiar like; but dese
white gals don't : dey keeps urn's place !' ' "
An Exemplary Judge. The most extraor
dinary instance of patience on record in mod
ern times is that of an Illinois judge, who list
ened silently for two days while a couple of
worthy attorneys contended about the construc
tion of an act of the Legislature, and then
ended the controversy by quietly remark
ing "Gentlemen, the law is repealed." i
0" Is that clean butter?' asked a grocer
of a boy who had brought a quantity to mar
ket. ;'Tcshould think it ought to be,f replied
the boy, 'for marm and Sail, were more than
two houri picking tha hairs and motes out of
it last night.' i
ALCE of-a Manuscript. The original man-
uscript of Gray's Elegy was lately sold at auc-
J tion in London. There was really a "scene"
- in the auction room. Imagine a Btrangerenter-
small half-sheets of paper, written over, torn
and mutilated. He calls it "a most interes
ting article" and apologizes for its condition.
Pickering bids X10! Rodds, Foss, Thorpe,
Bohn,Holway, and some few amateurs quietly
remark, twelve, twenty, twentj-five, thirty,
and so on, till there is a pause at sixty-three
pounds ! The hammer strikes. f
"Hold!" says Mr. Foss.
"It is mine," says the amateur. -
"No, I bid sixty-five in time."
"Then I bid seventy."
"Seventy-five," says Mr. Foss; and fives are
repeated again, until the two bits of paper arer
I knocked down amidst a general cheer, to Pay-
on and Foss, for one hundred pounds Stirling!
On these bits of paper are written the first
drafts of the Elegy in a country church yard
by Thomas Gray, including five verses which
were omitted in publication, and with the po
et's interlinear corrections and alterations
certainly an "interesting article," several per
sons supposed it would call forth a ten pound
note, perhaps even twenty.
Rather Stroko ! 'Why is it, my son, that
when you drop your bread and butter, it is al
ways the buttered side down V
'I don't know. It hadn't oughter, had il? '
The strongest side ought to be uppermost,
hadn't it, ma? and this yere is the strongest
butter I ever seed?
'Hush up: it's some of your aunt's churning.'
'Did she churn it? The great lazy thing!' .
What, your aunt?
'No; this yere butter! To make-that poor
old woman churn it, when it's strong enough
to churn itself!'
'Be still, Ziba! It only wants working over.'
'Well, marni, if I's you, when I did it, I'd
put in lots o' molasses!'
'You good-for-nothing! I've ate a great deal
worse in the most aristocratic rew lore
boarding houses.'
Well, people o'raiik wghl to eat it.'
'Why people o'rant?'
'Cause it's rank r butter.' " " "
'You varmint you! What makes-you talk so
smart V
'The butter's taken the skin of my tongue.
mother!'
'Ziba don't lie! I can't throw away the but
ter. It don't signifv.'
'I tell you what I'd do with it, marm.. I'd
keep it to draw blisters. You ought to see the
flies keel over, and die, as soon as they touch
it!' "
'Ziba, don't exaggerate; but here' twenty-
five cents, go to the store and buy a pound of
fresh.' N. Y. Pic.
Camp Meeting Anecpote. At acampmeet-
ing, a number of ladies continued standing on
the benches, notwithstanding frequent hints
from the minister to sit down. A reverend
old gentleman, noted for his good humor,
arose and said : 'I think if (hose Indies stand-"
ing on the benches knew they had holes in
their stockings, they would sit down ?'
This address had the desired effect there
was an immediate siuking into the scats. A
young minister standing behind him, and
blushing to the temples, said :
Oh, brother, how could you say that ?' .
'Say that ?' said the old gentleman; 'it's a
fact. If they hadn't holes in their stockings,
I'd like to know how they could get them on?'
Politic l Bittersess. Parson Eaton, of
Harpsville, whose three cornered cocked hat,
big white wig and shoe buckles, indelibly im
pressed our childish memory, wasone of those
stern old revolutionary Feds, who preached
politics, as was the fashion of the day; and he
prayed politics; too; for in one of his public
performances, during the struggle between
Adams and Jefferson, he said-
'O Lord, thou hast commanded us to pray
for our enemies and let us begin with Thom-
as Jefferson,'
Queer Matrimonial Freak. A letter from
a citizen in Livingston Co.,Ky., to the Danville -Tribune,
relates the following bit of family his
tory in that neighborhood": "A widow lady -took
an orphan boy to raise, quite small, and
when at the age of eigtheen she -married him,
she then being in her fiftieth; year. They Iiv-
ed many j-ears together, happy as any couple.
Ten years ago they took an orphan girl to
raise. This fall the old lady died, being 96 -years
of age, "and in seven weeks after, the
old man married the girl they had raised, be .
being 68 years old, and she 18." - '
'Ah you don't know what muthical cnthu- '
thiathm ith!' said a music raad Miss to Tom
Hood. 'Excuse me, Madam, replied' the wit,
'but I do: musical enthusiasm is like turtle "
soup: for every quart of real there arVninety-- .-
nine gallons of mock, and calves' head in pro
portion. v.. .
D"We know a man who is so mean that he "
won't draw his last breath, for fear he will lose
the interest, . . ' ; -J -
'. liSoIdiers, come what may, can never be ,- .
at a loss for bread, as tbey can always fall back y
on the regimental roll
n n