BY S. B. ROW. VOL. 4.-ArO. 19. CLEARFIELD, PA., "WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1857. "THE WIND AND STREAM." A brook came stealing from the ground : You scarcely saw its silver gleam Among the herbs that hung around The borders of the winding stream. A pretty stream, aplaeid stream, A softly gliding, bashful stream. A treeze came wandering from the sky, Light as the whispers of a dream ; lie put the overhanging grasses by. And gayly stooped to kiss the stream. The pretty stream, the flattered stream, The bhy yet unreluotant stream. The water as the wind passed o'er. Shot upward many a glancing beam, Pimpled and quivered more and more, And tripped along a livelier stream. The flattered stream, the simpering stream, The fond, delighted, silly stream. Away the airy wanderer flew To where Use fields with blossoms teem, To sparkling springs aud rivers blue, And left alone that little stream. The flattered stream, the cheated stream, The sad, forsaken, lonely stream. That careless wind no more came bck ; fie wanders yet the fields, I deem ; But on its melancholy track Complaining went that little stream. The cheated stream, the hopeless stroani, The murmuring, moaning steam. A TRUE STORY. Written for the "Raftsman's Journal." INTRODUCTION. Mr. Editor : Allow rue to introduce my self to you ami your patrons as one who wish es to write something for their instruction or amusement. Who lam, it were better per haps not to sa- at present, and what I am, you will be better able to judge than I to tell you. Remember, I do not write for fame, but if any thing that my pen can produce may please, in bttuct, or amuse your readers, I shall have at tained my object. The illustration of the principle, that the moral influence of woman is the strongest restraining power, (apart from Divine grace) which can be exercised over the heart of erring man, is w hat the writer intends in the following story. The story is a true one, aud took place within the limits of our own State, and the most important personages were all living a few years ago. In real life we fre quently see proofs of the adage, that "truth is stranger than fiction," and this simple narra tive is one of the strongest that has ever come under my notice. Under the circumstances it is deemed necessary to suppress the names, both of persons and places, and to use ficti tious ones instead. As it is fashionable, ami very convenient too, I shall arrange the story in parts, or chapters under appropriate titles, and as it must have a name will will just call it: THE BEIOSMED, OS WOMAN'S IHIXirES'CE. CHAPTER I. THE INEBRIATE. In the town of P , lived the wealthy Gen eral () . He had served with honor in the army of his country, and when his sword was no longer required in her service he settled down, and engaged in an extensive and profit able business, by which, in the course of time, lie amassed great wealth. Ilis wife was a wo man of eminent piety, and of great amiability of character, possessing a good judgment, but lacking energy to carry out her convictions. She trained her children with all the care of a devoted christian mother, whose only fault was an over-indulgence. Those children who par took of their father's disposition, ami deter mined will, did not therefore profit as much by her pious teachings as might have been the case, had she possessed the firmness to com mand, when necessary. The lather being to tally absorbed in the acquisition of riches, had no time to devote to the raising of his chil dren, consequently that duty devolved solely on the mother. Ho supposed that his duty was fulfilled when he fed, clothed, and sent them to the best schools, always furnishing them w ith a sufficiency of pocket money. The family grew up intelligent and respectable, with one exception. The oldest son, with whom we have chiefly to do in this sketch, and whom, for the sake of distinction, we shall call John, had early shown a disposition to disre gard the advice of his mother, and as he grew older he manifested sttong passions and an im patience of restraint, which led him often, while yet young, to the haunts of dissipation. Accordingly when John was placed at a dis tant college to finish his education, he felt en tirely free from restraint or control, save what he felt when in the presence of the faculty of the school. Here his evil propensities soon developed themselves, and he plunged into al most every species of vice. lie chose for his companions the most vile and dissipated of the students, who, as they were all the sons of men w ho belonged to nppcr-tendom, felt them selves privileged to do much as they pleased ; aud it was only the fact of John's father being a millionaire that saved him from being dis missed from the school in disgrace. Notwith etanding his dissipated habits, he possessed talents of which he might justly have been proud, and which, if properly cultivated and directed, would have made him "an ornament to society." Eut alas! his talents and privi leges only seemed to facilitate his ruin. Ho graduated with honor, and came home, but no persuasion on the part of his friends' could in duce him to abandon his vile course. .Neither could his father prevail on him to enter his counting-house, nor engage in business, or choose a profession. In short, he became "a genteel loafer," frequenting the "drinking sa loons," the "gambling hells," and other places where "fast young men" frequently resort. At length he began to be shunned by the re spectable portion of his associates. In vain were his mother's tears, his father's remon strances he went on in his downward road. His father, thinking to remove one great temp tation beyond his reach, stopped his usual sup ply of money, and now, not having the means to follow his dissipated course, even the low est and most degraded of his associates, "those harpies who feed on human flesh, aud fatten on the heart's blood of their victim," forsook him, and he found himself alone in his degra dation. In this condition, his family, and es pecially his sorrowing mother, would gladly have opened their arm's to receive the repent ant prodigal; but no f he must needs sink deeper in the gulf of wickedness, and lower himself, if possible, "beneath the brutes that perish." He had fallen from the respectable position of the son of General O., to the fash ionable debauchee the bar-room loafer the common street drunkard and blackguard, and now his cup of iniquity was nearly full. He could get no more liquor on trust, and he had been frequently kicked from those "hells," where he was wont to spend his father's sub stance, as a vagrant, and not unfrequently was he confined in the lock-up, for drunken and disorderly conduct. He pawned his watch, clothes, books, and everything that he claim ed as his own, in order to get his accustomed stimulant; but at length all these resources failed, and like the "Prodigal Son," he was reduced to utter destitution, but, unlike that individual, he did not arise and go to his fath er. Hitherto he had been able to procure food, as well as "drink ;" but now starvation stared him in the face, and he was aroused from his mania, if I may so call it, by the gnawings of hunger. He had spent the pre vious night in the street without his accus tomed stimulus, and had not tasted food for forty-eight hours. The same feeling that pre vented him from going to his father at this time, prevented him from begging. That he did not become a thief, or a robber, was doubt less owing to the good counsel of his mo'her, the influence of which he had never been able wholly to shake oh". In a state of mind but little short of madness, he resolved to seek employment as a boatman on the river, know ing that there he would receive plenty of that poison which had become necessary to his ex istence, as he thought. He was not long in finding a situation on a boat, bound for a town some forty miles up the river. After satisfy ing the cravings of nature, he was furnished with "whiskey," and the boat left her wharf. Before they had proceeded half the distance to C , John was found in a state of beastly in toxication, aud unable to perform the duty as signe I him. The captain admonished him, but Lo rejiied with insolence, and demanded more liquor. This Ike humane captain allowed him. and then put him ashore in the wilder ness, miles from any settlement, and utterly unable to walk ; and then steaming oft", left him to his fate. Here then is a young man, raised in wealth and opulence, possessing the advantages of education and talents, sunk to the lowest depth to which the poor inebriate can fall, and abandoned by his fellow men, left to perish among the wild beasts of the forest. We cannot help exclaiming, alas ! poor John !! CHAPTER II. THE ULSTER'S DAtCUTER. Some twenty miles from the town of I , and not far from the river, there rises a gently sloping hill, which, at the date of our story, was covered with a stately growth of oak and walnut. On the south side of this hill, and near its summit, by the side of a chrystal spring, stood the cabin of an old hunter. A small garden on one side of the cabin, planted with such vegetables as were common iu coun try gaidens, with a few beds of flowers, which gave evideuce of female taste, and a small ar bor, covered with wild vines, the whole sur rounded by a rude picket fence, were the only traces of civilizttion to be seen: Upon enter ing the cabin we behold a stalwart form of fif ty years, clad in the costume of a hunter,with "leggins, moccasins," &c. a picture of the "White Indian" who has made the forrest his borne till he has become all of the savage in appearance save the countenance, which beam ed with benevolence and love, as he smokes his pipe, and turns his head occasionally to an swer a question or reply to a remark of his daughter. We cast our eyes around the cabin and find an air of neatness and comfort per vade everything, and we mechanically turn our eyes in search of the fairy whose care and taste has made the rude cabin of the hunter a pleas ant home. A vision of beauty, such as we sel dom see, except in dreams, or in our imagina tion, bursts upon our sight. A girl of sixteen summers, tall, and graceful in every propor tion, and movement, she stands the embodi ment of loveliness ; a countenance expressive of the unsophisticated child of nature ; her soul beaming through her largo hazel eyes, gave evidence of a power of intellect, a strength of will, and a purity of hcait, seldom met with in one person. Nimrod, as we shall call the old hunter, was one of the pioneers of that part of the State, and had alternately perform ed the part of soldier, scout, and hunter. Rais ed in the frontier settlements, the rifle was his constant companion, and he felt no love for the arts of civilized life. Ho had married dur ing a time when the Indian had forsaken the war-path, and when gentle peace was begin ning to thed her hallowed influence on the western frontier. But scarcely two years had passed ere the rcd-skics again tok up the hatchet, and Ximrod was again called from all he held dear, to brave the perils of a wilder ness campaign and chastise the savage foe. Placing his beloved wife with her friends for safety, he joined the army, and spent the sum mer and autumn in the forest. At length the enemy being driven from all their important settlements, and their villages, corn, &c, des troyed, the army returned home. What was Nimrod's grief when he learned that his wife was no more. lie had left her in delicate health, and anxiety for his late preyed upon her spirits, and finally brought on a fever which terminated in death. Nimrod though a rough uneducated back-woodsman, and spending much of his time in what was calculated to harden the heart, viz, Indian warfare, was nev ertheless one of the most tender-hearted of men, and loved his wife with a devotcdncss, and constancy, that many husbands in civiliz ed and refined society would do well to imi tate. For some time he was inconsolable, but gradually his affections turned toward his in fant daughter, and he could not follow his ac customed pursuit of hunting, as he could not stay away from his child. He became melan choly and shunned society, and at last conclu ded to carry his child to the cabin on the hill side, far from the clearings of the white-man, and there enjoy its society while he followed his business of hunting. He accordingly re moved with his child, then two years of age, to the cabin, where he expected in the train ing of his beloved Louise to find a pleasure that he had sought for in vain in the haunts of busy men. And hero did this singular man live by aid of his trusty rifle, and the cultiva tion of his garden, and rear his beautiful child. At first she was left alone while her father went out to kill game, or went down to the river to trade furs with the traders for such ar ticles as they needed. As Louise grew up she followed him in his excursions after game, at times, but was not allowed to visit the landing, when a Loat was expected. Ilis excursions were never long, as game was abundant, and was often seen from the door. When she did not accompany him she spent her time in ten ding her garden, into which she had trans planted many of the wild wood flowers, in which she took great delight. Of the world she knew nothing except what she heard from her father, and as he was unable to read, and had lived since childhood on the frontier, his knowledge of the world was very limited. It was his constant aim to instil iuto her young heart right principles, and a firm self-reliance, which ho intended should be of service to her when deprived of his care and protection. At the period at which our story opens the clear ings of the white man had been pushed within five or six miles of the hunter's cabin, but ve ry seldom had Louise seen the face of a hu man being, other than her father, and never once had she seen one of her own sex, since her childhood. She lived but to minister to her father, and to rejoice in the song of the birds in the whispering breeze in the mur muring rill in the babbling brook in the roaring river in the humming of the bees in the blooming of the flowers in the twink ling of the stars, and in the silvery light of the moon did Louise find food for though!, and as she loved nature in all her forms so did she derive pleasure from all her works. Often did she think how happy her lot when compared with those who were surrounded by the temp tations of society ; st ill there was a void in her heart which neither the love of her father, nor all the beauties of nature could fill. A longing after the companionship of the young a year ning after a kindred spirit with which to hold sweet communion, would steal over her be times, and dim the brightness of her lonely forest life. CHAPTER III. A STRANGER AT THE CABIN. One evening her father, who had been ab sent some time, returned, bearing in his arms the form of a young man, who appeared to be in a state of insensibility. Her lather stated that he had found him near the river, and did not know but that he had been foully dealt with. After such restoratives as the cabin af forded had been applied the stranger seemed to revive a little, and began to talk incoherent ly. Nimrod,who had a knowledge of the herbs used by the Indians in the treatment of disea ses, at once prepared to act Physician to his patient. It was evident that the disease was brain-fever, whatever might have been the pre disposing cause of it. For many days did the stranger rave in wild delirium, but at length the disease abated and the patient sank into a deep calm sleep. Most faithfully did Nimrod nurse, and watch over the young man, wonder ing what strange circumstance had thus thrown the son of his old General on his humanity and his hospitality, for he had learned from the ravings of the young man that he was the son of General O, under whom he (Nimrod) had served in his last campaign against the In dians, and who had complimented him for his gallantry on the battle field. Louise too, was assiduous in her attentions to the stranger, hor heart swelling with pify as she bent over him, bathing his burning temples. Her father gave her what.information he possessed in regard to their guest's father, but of the family ho knew nothing till Providence made him the instru ment of saving John's life. John awoke from his long sleep, and felt like one awaking lrom a troubled dream. But as recollection return ed the strangeness of his sitnatlon burst upon him, and he inquired, " Where am I, and how came I here ?" Louise replied, that he was very ill and must keep perfectly quiet that her father had found him near the river, and had borne him to the cabin. While listening to the rich music of her voice, he gazed upon her like one entranced. A new light began to break on his mind his mother's prayers and tears the whole history of his past life seem ed to rise like a dark cloud shutting out the light of heaven, and shutting his eyes, with a groan he relapsed into insensibility, from which he did not recover for some hours. When he did recover his senses, he lay for some time musing on the past and present, and wondering what the future had in store for him. When he thought on the lovely being who watched over him, and of the gentle moth er whose counsels he had disregarded, he groaned in the agony of his remorse. Louise bent over him, and whispered words of hope and consolation to the heart-sick invalid. When he was strong enough, Nimrod imform ed him of the state in which he had found him tnd his subsequent illness. John, like a true penitent, "made a clean breast of it," and con fessed all his crimes to his benefactors, prom ising amendment. John appeared a new man, anil as he afterward acknowledged, Louisa was the instrument of that change. He passed some weeks with the hunter and his daughter, during which time his gratitude ripened into love, and he found that Louise had given her heart's best affections to the erring, but re pentant prodigal. CHAP. IV. THE WEDDING AND ITS RESULTS. When Nimrod was made acquainted with the state of affairs by the lovers, he at once consented to their union. John urged that the wedding should take place immediately, as he feared that his friends would oppose his marriage with one who did not know a letter of the alphabet, and who was only the daugh ter of a poor old hunter. Nimrod and Louise at length gave way to his importunities, and a minister was brought from the nearest settle ment, "and the twain were made one flesh." It was some time after, that John got his cour age raised sufficiently to write to his Mother, and tell her all that had befallen him. How he had fallen to the lowest depth of degrada tion had sought to flee from home and kin dred had been abandoned in the forest, to perish with tho wild beasts had been taken np and nursed by the old hunter and his daugh ter how he had awoke to a new life through Louise's influence, and how he had married her, notwithstanding her ignorance. When his mother read his letter she wept tears of joy for her son, "who had been dead and was alive again had been lost and was found." With regard to his marrying Louise she remarked that any girl was good enough for her son. She sent for them at once,and had them brought home. In Louise she tound abeing of uncom mon mental capacities, and one who only wanted education to make her an ornament to the most refined society. To a cheerful and sprighthy disposition she added a sweetness of temper and gentleness of manner which made all who knew her love her. Her motherin-law's first care was to procure a competent teacher, and have her educated, which did not prove a difficult task, as she possessed great application, quick perceptions, a good judgment, and a re tentive memory. In a very short time she completed a thorough education, so that she took a position in the highest circles, where she became a general fovorite. And now she induced her husband to go into business, his father furnishing the capital, and by her supe rior skill and management, the business soon became a profitable one. Her influence over her husband was unbounded, and though he had tact for business, yet he remained a sober, respectable merchant, his wife being chief clerk and manager. Years have passed and this child of the forest is the mother of a large family of respectable and intelligent children ; her husband, too, moves in the highest circles of respectability, and attributes all to the in fluence of the hunter's daughter. She has set a noble christian example before her family and has trained her children in the path of vir tue and usefulness. Perhaps the reader would like to know what become of old Nimrod. Well, he lived alternately with his daughter, and in the cabin on the hill side, till the "clear ings" of the white man surrounded his humb le home, and his game was driven farther back. He then spent his time in the family of his be loved daughter, where he died a few years since, mourned and regretted by all. I cannot close this imperfect sketch with out giving a friend's description of this inter esting family. About three years ago he vis ited the town of P and there became ac quainted with this family. He says, "this ex traordiuary woman still possessed traits of great personal beauty, and was lively, and cheerful. Her intelligence and conversation al powers were truly wonderful. Her family appeared to partake of her energetic disposi tion, and were intelligent beyond their years. I could not help feeling, after hearing this woman's history, that "truth is stranger than fiction." And now geDtlc reader shall I lay down rny pen to resume it no more, or do yon look for another communication from your friend and well wisher, "Mollie." Col. Fremont is now in Boston. He has been made a kDight of the "Sons of Malta." DOMESTIC ECONOMY. Agricultural Facts. There are 5 pounds of pure sulphur in every 100 pounds of wool. Carrots consume 107 pounds of lime to the acre ; turnips but 70 pounds. A cubic foot of common arable land will hold 40 pounds of water. It takes 5 pounds of corn to form one of beef. Three and a half pounds of cooked meal will form one of pork. To add one per cent, of lime to a 60il that is destitute of it requires 10 tons of slacked lime, or six of caustic, to the acre. Clay will permanently improve any soil that is sandy or leachy. Lime and leached ashes will also benefit leachy land. A ton of dry forest leaves producing only 500 pounds of mold will produce a ton of plants. Clay applied to sandy land, Is far better than sand to clay land. One hundred tons to the acre will give an inch in depth. Pure phosphorus is worth from one thou sand to five thousand dollars a ton ; and, as it comes from the earth it shows how scarce it is. SnEEP. The pioper management of sheep is a matter ot very great importance to the farmer. He may procure the Lest breeds, and yet a bad location and bad management may soon destroy them. They require high, dry upland and soft water. If confined to a low, dairp soil, and limy water, the wool be comes coarse, the sprightliness of the animal is lost, disease follows, and it dwindles down into a mere apology for a sheep and a poor apology too. Lime soils and lime water arc very injurious to them, as, by absorbing or destroying the oil in the wool, it renders the fibre harsh and brittle. The plants, too, iu such soil, are very strongly impregnated with lime, and the water hard, which soon produces roughness and diccase of the skin. Over a bundanco of food, too, is injurious to them. It will increase the quantity, length, and bulk of wool, but injure the quality. Ruta bagas, in largo quantities, will increase the weight of the carcass, but injure the texture of the wool. Let the land on which they are kept be high, dry aud destitute as far as pos sible of lime, liberally supplied with sulpur, the grass short and sweet, and the flocks will amply repay. Ohio Fanner, Great Challenge R ace for S 200,000. The Georgia sportsmen some time since sent forth a challenge to the world intended for Great Britain, of course to run a match race of four miles and repeat for $100,000 a side, over the Ten Brocck course at Savannah. The London Sunday Times insists that a com pany shall be formed in England to accept the challenge and test the superiority of the hor ses of the two countries. The Times calls upon Lord Zetland to become the champion of the British tnrf, and send out his noble horse Skirmisher "to do battle against the American celebrities." The indications are that the match will be made for next season, and if so, we may look for the greatest and most exciting race which the world ever wit nessed. As action for debt by a wife against her hus band, to recover money loaned by her hus band, being property acquired after marriage, was tried iu the Common Pleas of Perry coun ty, Pa., a short time since, Judge Graham pre siding. The question was whether a wife could maintain a suit against her husband. The court decided that she could, and deliv ered a verdict for the plaintiff for 52,508. The Mormon Capitol. Great Salt Lake City is laid out on a magnificent scale. It is four miles in length, by three in breadth, the streets running at right angles, and 132 feet wide, with sidewalks 2J feet in width. Each building lot contains an acre aud a quarter of land, and a stream of pure water running thro' the city is made, by an ingenious plan, to flow on each side of every street, and to irrigate every lot. It has been decided, in a recent case, in the State of Indiana, that marriage in that State requires no formalities to make it legal, ex cept the mere agreement of parties that it is a civil contract only, and differs from other civil contracts merely in this, that it cannot be dissolved, even by mutual consent. They tell of big rats on the line of the Ohio Canal, and one of them is said to have towed a boat, using his tail as a tow line. That's a whopper of a rat we mean. If we should at tempt to beat this rat story, we should tell of that mosquito in the Montezuma Swamp on the Erie Canal, who stole a pole for a tooth-pick. Every person is proud. Pride is an element of our nature. We could not live without it ; we should even be worthless. All the passions are good, without exception it is excess that makes them evil, and the best of them are as bad as the worst. 1 An Indian messenger has brought word to Manistee, Michigan, that on "Sleeping Bear," a bleak promontory on Lake Michigan, the bodies of several wrecked sailors lie frozen stiff, and that tho wolves are greedily devour ing them. Carlyle says make yonrself an honest man and then yon may be bare there is one rascal less In tho world. - The half State half Territory of Minnesota is considerably bothered just now to know who is who. What with Indian voting and doc tored returns, the new State carnot decido whether Kamsay or Sibley is elected Gover nor ; so, to cut the Gordian knot, Mr. Buchan an's 7'erri7or'aZ Governor, Sam Jiedary, steps in and delivers the first annual message of a Slate Governor. The Republicans in the Sen ate, 17 in number to 19 Democrats, protested against the recognition of Medary as State Governor, but tho other side weut ahead, and both Houses met in Convention (on the 11th) to hear Medaty's speech. In Convention, on motion to appoint a Committee to wtit upon Medary, tlx: vote was 51) to 47. Tho message, which was then read, is devoted altogether to the internal afiairs of tho Territory-State, and is considered a lair and literal document. Mr. Goodrich, Dem., of the Pioneer, was elect ed State Printer by a vote of CO to 47. A Democratic caucus of the Legislature on tho loth nominated Gen. Shields and nenry M. Rice for UVitcd States Senators. We find nothing in the papers in regard to tho State canvass. Winter is in full progress, and tho sleighing superb. -V. 1". Tribune, Dec. 23. A Stage Attacked by Wolves in Maine. Maine papers state that on Wednesday night last, as a Mr. Mitchell was driving a mail wa gon on the back Calais route, from Bedding ton to the next stopping place, twenty miles from Bangor, being without passengers, his team was beset by a pack of wolves which came within an acc of raising the deuco with him. They were about a dozen in number, and came on fierce and noisy. Mitchell, how ever drove up smart, which he bad no difficul ty in doing, as the horses were quite as much frightened as himself. As they pressed hard upon him, and glared their eye-bal's and gnashed their teeth about him, he let go tho contents of a rifle, which laid one of the hun gry crew, and for the time checked their per suit. This was providentially near the stop ping place, upon arriving at which, the driver is said to have been pretty well overcome with excitement aud freight. The Fire-Flies of Siam. Sir J. Bowrinj thus speaks of these remarkable insects: "They glance liKe shooting stars, but brighter and lovelier, through the air, as soon as tho sun is set. Their light is intense, and beauti ful in color as it is brilliant in spleudor now shining, anon extinguished. They have their favorite trees, round which they sport in count less multitudes, and produce a magniScient aud li.'ing illumination; their light blazes and is extinguished by a common sympathy. At one moment every leaf and branch appears decorated with diamond-like fire; and soon there is darkness, to bo again succeeded by flashes from innumerable lamps, w hich whirl about in rapid agitation. If stars be the poet ry of heaven, earth has nothing more poelio than the tropical fire-fly." Living in Santa Fe. A correspondent of tho Washington Union writes from Santa Fe, New Mexico, as follows : As a fastidious and querulous visiter once wrote from the White Sulphur Springs, iu Virginia, so might I write. We have four kinds of meat for breakfast, viz : ''ram, lamb, sheep, and mutton." Chick ens are so very high priced that we seldom ev er have the pleasure of feasting on them ; oc casionally we have a chicken pie, which, as Sam Weller says, is very good when not mads out of kittens. Potatoes are selling hero at So per bushel ; chickens. 50 cents apiece i corn, $1.50 per bushel; and other articles of the season at the same rate. Telegram. This uort word has lately come iuto general newspaper use in Great Brit ain as a substitute for the long compound terra telegraphic despatch. We like it, and are glad to perceive by recent London papers that it is to become a recognized word of our language, aud that it wilt appear as Mich in a new edition of Johnson's Dictionary about to be published under the care of the eminent Dr. Latham. A young woman in Cincinnati got drunk the other day and was taken to the station ; whilst there she had constant convulsions, during w hich two men could not hold her,' and she afterwards died. The doctors said the fits were caused by lrco indulgence in strychnine whiskv. "Johnny docsyou love me V "Well, Susy, I does." "How do you know that you loves me V "Kase, Susy, whenever I looks at yoa my heart jumps np and knocks agin my stum mick so hard, that I don't have my appetite for a week afterwards." Love like this Is certainly economical. The latest census of Oregon exhibits a re markable disparity of the sexes. While tho males number 26,000 there are only 16,000 females. This excess of males is one of the peculiar phenomena of our new territories, and is to be found, more or less, in all of them. A Sure AVay to try Bologne Sausages Is, to carefully take one up in your fingers, at tho same time give a sharp whistle, and should there Le a slight squeak, drop 6aid sausages and make tracks for tho door. , Thinking to quiz some Irish draymen, a gen tleman shouted to one : "Has the railroad got in t" "One iml has, sir," was the prompt response
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