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ALLEG HAS 1 ft?T PI RECTO BY.
C III Rl ilES, :u5.flyri:iis,
l'.i,J.iflcri.:i iUv. I). IlAltm.so.v, Pastor.
'.-'.chili: every Sabbath morning at loj
..'. k. aa 1 in the evening at j o'clock, riab
Sellout at 'J o'clock, A. M. I'raycr nieet
i every Thursday evening at 7 o'clock.
'V"i.Si Kpiscopul Church He v. J. sjll.VNE,
i.lier in charge. Rev J. M. C$mit;i, As
'. f t. l'reaching every Sabbath, alternately
. '. o'clock in the morning,
Sibbtth richo .1 at i o'clock, A.M.
-r meeting every Tiiurs-iay evening at 7
it - 'r!i y. nil' ii( RiC V
'j l're:i i i i r every .
i .!..'.;. and in til.; ev
. IjL. R. ro'.VLLL.
ibbath morning at
niii.r at G o'clock.
: ! i..uh .Sciiool at I o' lock, 1. M. 'r.;ycr
on the first Msid-.y evening of each
it:i : an 1 oa every Tujs lay, 'i'iiursday
..! 1 f i i i:ty evening, excepting the first week
.ii ii iiionth.
Cil .'.. 'tc M fho'l-s'. Rev. Jons Williams,
I'ii aching every Sabbath evening at
.. ..i;i ; ..'clock. Sabbath School at lo o'clock,
. M. I'raytr tm.'eting every Friday evening
? i i o.iocii. Society tverv l uesa ay evening
i l 7 o'clock.
D.i i Rsv.Wm. Llovi, I'iiitor I'reach-
ai.-'-veiv Sabbath morning at lo o'clock.
l':r.-.i'.ir H-iplLit Rev. D.1VI!) JkxkINS,
-tor. l'iv;.hiiig every S;ibbath evening at
.-cl j k. Sabbath School at 1 o'clock. 1. 51.
i.'u.o, law M. J. Mjtciikll, Pastor.
...... . i i o 1....L-
e:pers at 4 o'clock in the evening.
i:!h:asi5i k mails.
m n -: V !' IMVE
astern, d.iilv. at 111 o'clock, A. M.
;t 11 " P.M.
:-.tern. diil.-, at 5 o'clock, P. M.
r-t era. at $ " A. .u.
tru rhfM:.:is r'romP.'.itlcr.lii'tiana.Strongs
vi.. Si-,, nnivt; ou Tuesday aud Jfriday of
u W,--.. at ;") o Cliff:. P. A.
i.e. ;. i;:( -.isburg on .Moud.'.ys and Thurs-',.-.
at 7 o'clock, A. M.
.- The M.iils from Newman's Mills, Car
I'.ljivn. if., nrvivf on Mondav and Friday of
!i wt .-k, at 3 o'clock, P. M.
Le,..vt- Ebeusbnrg o.i Tuesdays and aatur-c-
s. sit 7 o'clock, A. .M.
&; Post Ooice oo.-ii on S.iadavs from 0
I i J o'clock, A. M.
lc:t hxpress Train, leave3 at 0.10 A. M.
" Mail Train, " 7.4si P. M.
Kxi.rcsa Train. 12.2o P. M.
Mail Train, " C.2rt A. M.
Past Line, 8.02 P. M.
J'tlj- i of thf Cttrls. President, Hon. Geo.
;ior, Huntingdon ; Assoeiates, (JccrfC Vi".
'-ley, Richr.nl Jones. Jr.
1'rutKunotary. Joseph M' Donald.
i-'jtxt'r Dili Rtcordtr. Michael ll.isson.
S'ter.J. Robert P. Linton.
IJ'pithi S!,er!jf. George '. K. Zahm.
l'iftricl .M'nirnrif. Thcophilus L. Hover.
i.itun'y ('mmilfners. Thomas Jl boiuifli,
:.n i. carer, Abel LioyU.
Cirrk toVan.nlasioncr. George C. K. Zahm.
t'junrcl to Cum,niioneri. John H. UUey.
Trrimrer. George J. Rodger.'.
1'oor Jlounf Dirrctors. Will'am Palmer,
'avid O M..rro, Michael M'Guirc.
t uut ilr,uic 1 re.asurer. Ocorge . is., iiici'i.
J'j'-r H'it S'.f.ward. James J. Kaylor.
Lr-in'.dt Appraiser. Francis Titrncy.
.lu-:,;,,r. Uecs J. Llovd. Daniel Cobaugh,
1 C-.:u,fy Siiri fiior. Henry Scnnlan.
I '-'-ro;icr. Peter D'mtrhtMy.
i 'tyrintrnilent -f Cuinmoit Scltooli. S. B.
rnrxsnrnc; ror. ornriT.s.
Ju.itir.,, ,,f the I'tace. David H. Roberts,
ll'iT'inx. John f. Hughe.
'Am-t Council. Andrew Lewis, Joshua
urri-li !;. I r Uii leinl Jon.-s. Jr
. , , 1 14 .j v ...... J - -' !
rfc in Council. James C. Noon.
li'r,u,jh Treasurer. George Gurley.
Wtijh Miticra. Davis & Lloyd.
S"W irrJTs.. 0. M'CJCUC, A.
FktT, Thomas M. Jonra, He
cese i5. Lloyd,
V'ntal.U. George Gurley.
Tax Cuitfetcr. George Curler.
A"r3v.r. Rhhard T. Davis."
J'"b'- ' Eire tion, David J. Jonen.
J'i'Ptetori. David H. Roberts. Daniel O.
EBENSBURG, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1859.
Love at 'Two .Score.
BY Vt M. THACKUUAY.
Ho! pretty page with dimpled chin,
That never has known the barber's shears,
All your aim is wotuau to win
That is the way that boys begin
Wait till you've come to forty year.
Curly gold locks cover foolish brains;
Billing and cooing is all your cheer,
Sighing and singing of midnight strains,
Under Bonny-bell's window-panes
Wait till you've come to forty year.
Forty times over let Michaelmas pass.
Grizzling hair the brain doth clear;
Then you know how a boy is an ass,
Then you know the worth of a lass,
Once you have come to forty year.
Pledge me round, I bid ye declare,
All good fellows whose beards are gray,
Did not the fairest of the fair
Common grow, and wearisome, ere
Even a month was passed away ?
The reddest lips that ever have kissed,
The brightest eyes that ever have shone,
May pray and whisper, and we not list,
Or look away and never be missed,
Ere even yet a mouth was gone.
Guillian's dead Heaven rest her bier!
How I loved her twenty years s-yue !
Marian's married; but I sit here,
Alive and merry at forty year,
Dipping my nose in Gascon wine-
je! iTc iTceTiThi
Muiitl Miiiiity of Auifikuii
py ,-Ti:r:ir.x n. tvno.
It is nut a conuc.-cciiJir.g cjT-vt uf the
liitrh to exult the low, lici ol li.u i.ccaliarly
caitivateJ to elevate and benctit the le&s
rctiticel and privileged ot men. Jut it is
a mutual tigreeiuent to honor that imper
ishable ekujent in man which the jKjwer
of tlie Creator has implanted w ithin him,
and to excite and cultivate to the highest
possible decree, y an honorable competi
tion, the skill and eti'ort of man for the
improvement and elevation of hi.s present
conditien of being not lor the mere at
tainment of the means of luxurious indul
gence, but for the widest disposal of ben
efits upon mankind ; for the melioration
of the difficulties and enlargement of the
advantages which the wisdom of the Cre
ator has appended to the human station.
So object beneath the effort to secure and
bless the future immortality of men can
be considered greater or of more impor
tance. The whole history of the prosperity of
our country, whether general or sectional
will bear to a demonstration the assertion
that not to soil or climate, nor sea nor
land, nor zones nor temperatures, nor val
leys nor mountains, nor rivers, arc we in
debted for the wonderful display of genius
and skill, and iudustiy and resulting
wealth, by which our nation has been
marked, L nt to the elevating influence of
Christian education upon j'outhful minds,
and upon lh- society in which they have
been trained, dignifying, as; the most hon
orable condition of man, free labor upon a
free soil, mi.kiug the cunning artificer a
perfect e;ual to the eloquent orator, ex-ailin"-
the head that lias humbly bent,
I throuuh many a toilsome day, over the
bench of industry, to preside with a dig
nity which commands united reverence
upon the bench of judgment, and leading
the feet thijt have followed through many
a weary furrow in the field, to stand on a
level with statesmen in the councils of
There is that, in all the influences and
j. remises of this system of heavenly light,
which is precisely adapted to excite man
to stir up the gift that is in him to make
him feel that he was made to serve uo
master but God to make him deem him
Kelf inferior to no undertaking to which
the liue of his manifest right and duty
t-hall lead him to give him patience iu
effort, coolness in judgment. .-kiil in dis
cernment, and determination in execution
the elements of indubitable and certain
success; and whether the wilderness blos
soms like the rose under his skill in agri
culture, or the works of his hands seem
almo.st to live, and speak, and act, in the
beauty of his mechanical invention, Chris
tianity honors his effort, and commands
men to lienor and protect the claims which
it originates. It prepares a state of pub
lic miud, whith Mniles encouragingly upon
his attainments aud productions, and
which confesses the honor that the whole
community justly feels in having in its
bosom, aud cherishing sis its own, individ
uals who have so distinguished themselves
and their race.
This moral dignity of labor is purely an
American scheme aud thought. It has
marked our country's history from the
earliest periods of its colouial establish
ment; not more arising from the first
struggling condition of its original set
tlers, than from the very principles with
which they emigrated, aud upou which
they determined to erect the empire which
they founded. It is, undoubtedly, true
that labor was at first the necessity of
their being. Hands and arms that had
never toiled before were required to toil
unceasingly upon the rugged shores which
were selected as their home. And, in this
very fact, a dignity was given to human
industry which had never been before con
nected with it in modern times. The
Winthrops, and Johnsons, and Kndicolts
of that day would have dignified any sta
tion in life. And when they were seen
hewing out their future independence from
the wilderness, ami rearing their partial
but honorable subsistence from a sterile
and unwilling soil, never had the axe glit
tered with such light, nor the plow moved
with such majesty lefore.
Within the recollection of our oldest
citizens, instances were not unfrequent
where our most eminent men considered
it no degradation to discharge with their
own hands, if occasion required it, servi
ces usually esteemed menial in the ex
treme the grooming of horses and black
ing boots, not only for themselves, but for
their guests. No station could exalt nun
who would voluntarily aud cheerfully do
this; and boot-blacking, in their hands,
rose to a dignity which, in this country,
luxurious idleness, though charioted in
wealth, can never command. In the spir
it which was thus cultivated, an honor was
affixed to labor, and in the general feel
ing of the people there was transmitted a
mural dignity as connected with industry,
even in the h west shapes in which the
needs of men re.juired it, which should be
cherished by the present generation and
made perpetual in the future.
The extreme difference between this
general feeling, and the whole moral con
dition of the Ka.-tern continent, is a very
remarkable fact. Throughout monarchial
Europe, the permanent distinctions of
ea.-tes and classes
make labor disreputa- i
oie, and give no encouragement to the
general enlargement of the human mind,
nor to the innate ambition of individual
thought. Agriculture in the hands of a
peasantry who must live and die in the
rude hamlet in which they were born,
whose ignorance must never be enlight
ened beyond the clumsy implements of
culture which their forelathers have used,
who must feel themselves marked and
distinguished as the mere tolerated deni
zens of a soil which can never be their
own, whose fare is of the coarsest and
mealiest provision which can sustain the
life of man, and the average wages of
whose labor is, in Austria, less than one
seventh, in France less than one-third, and
even in England less than one-half of the
average of agricultural wages among the
freemen of America. Attempts to rise
above this state, to attain a position in
which man may have his honor as man,
and exercise a better influence upon the
i ? i ....
destiny of his own family, or his fellow
men, tar from bein considered
which is to be encouraged, or a ritrht
which is to be acknowledged, is a crime
for which men are to be shot.
One beneficent operation of the French
Revolution, in the midst of all the horrors
of its spirit and its march, has been to
break up this system of servile peasantry,
and to multiply indefinitely the owners of
the soil. Uut even in the agriculture of!
France the mildew of the past is still
thickly coated upon the efforts and hopes
of the present; and the minds of men
cramped in infancy like the feet of Chi-
iiese women, by an unnatural and detesta
ble pressure from without, are feebie and
.slow in all attempts to run into a new path,
however attractive and promising.
In mechanical labor and skill the ab
sence of all honor as an habitual attendant
is in Europe equally manifest. It is known
that luxury purchases often at a great
price the beautiful results of handicraft
and skill. It is known that individuals
of boldness and energy those irrepressi
ble spirits whose elasticity no bounds can
limit have occasionally forced their way
through all this downward pressure, and
have compelled an acknowledgement of
their greatness and a respect for their
mi-htydevelopments of mental and moral
power from those titled tribes who habitu-
ally fancy their interest to be in wideuiug
the gulf of their separation, aud insula-
tin" tdieir own condition tis completely as
VI 1 A
what are these anion'' so
maiiVi lueir Class are iniuesmen anu
r l . 1
tradespeople still. And the habitual fact
in their history is not only no encourage
ment to rise, but great discouragement
and jealousy of their possible ability to
break the shell of caste, whose accumula
te.! scales ages have riveted upon thcra.
1 stood the other day by the beuch of
au English mechanic, whose remarkable
skill 1 was admiring, and
whose youthful son in his work I was no
ticing, when the father took from the
drawer some beautiful crayon and pencil
sketches, which this working boy had
made. "Ah! sir," said the father, uthis is
America. IMy boy was taught all this for
nothing, at your public school. Had I
stayed at home, he would have lived aud
died unnoticed at the bench. Here he
may take a stand and be honored and en
couraged." Yes, and this is but one of
the multitude of illustrations which a
knowledge of facts would bring out, of
the encouragement which American free
dom give's to innate talent.
I knew a poor English carpenter, who
with the utmost difficulty gathered the
needful bread for his family. 1 1 is chil
dren were in the public school of a neigh
boring city. His eldest son, having no
chance of education before, laid hold of
his opportunity greedily, passed with
honor through all the stages of public ed
ucation, at the public expense, and on his
graduating at the summic of the career of
the city's provision, was immediately ap
pointed teacher and a professor of ancient
languages in one of the highest institu
tions, and honored the more for the in
dustry which had made him, from neg
lected poverty, what he is. This is Amer
ica. That by might have lived and died
a beggar iu the streets of London, and uo
titled man have taken him by the hand to
bring out, in an elevating education, the
noble powers his Creator had implanted
Let a man make a tour of the single
State of Connecticut, with no other knowl
edge or observation upon this subject than
that which belongs to every intelligent
American, he will never forget the im
pression of dignity, beauty and power
which will be made upon his mind. From
the heading of a pin to the hammering of
granite, from the polishing of the brass
button to the be-ating of the brazen kettle,
from the India-rubber suspender to the
variegated and beautiful Brussels carpet,
in every Possible variety and shape, and
beauty of machinery, upon every flowing
river, and upon every little rocky rivulet.
from the immense brick or stone edifice of i
many stories. to the rude shed of pine
boards in the woods, upon the margin of
the hidden stream, he will see the effects
of the American system, honoring, pros
pering, dignifying, and protecting Ameri
Human talent, industry, wisdom, and
skill, under the favoring blessing of Heav
en, must now go forth to sow aud to gath
er in the harvest of the earth. We are
teaching lessons of political economy
which the world has never heard before.
It is a noble dispensation for our country.
Other nations may see us, but not with
the vines or olives of Italy or France, nor
the oranges and grapes of
Portugal, nor even the rich and glowing
verdure, and the teeming harvests of En
gland aud Lowland Scotland. Hie mag
nificence of their time-honored architec
ture we have not attained. And yet there
are intelligence, prosperity, dignit, inde-
! pendence, and self-respect, marking the
laboring classes of our population, which
lift us far above all envy of the grandeur
and glory of European display. They see
that we have a people flourishing and
prosperous beyond comparison ; but we
have no rabble but that which their own
degradation has thrown upon our shores.
It is the province of America to build, not
palaces, but men ; to exalt, not titled sta
tions, but general huinauitv; to dignify,
j not idle repose, but assiduous industry; to
j elevate, not the few, but the many; and
to make herself known, not so much in in-
dividuals as in herself; spreading to the
highest possible level, but striving to keep
it level still, universal education, prosper
ity and honor.
The great element of this whole plan
of effort and instruction is the moral, rel
ative dignity of labor an element which
we are to exalt in public estimation in the
highest possible degree, and transmit to
our families and to our posterity, as the
true greatness of the country and the
world. We are to look at this enlarging
elevation of the working classes of men
a fact which may he considered the main
i index ot our age not as a uimcuity 10
! be limited, but as an attainment iu which
we greatly rejoice. And if our heraldry is
in the hammer, and the axe, and the awl,
and the needle, we are to feel it a far
I higher honor than, if in their place, we
I could have dragons and helmets, aud cross
bones ami skulks. Our country s great
ness is to be the result, not of foreign war,
but of domestic peace; not of the plunder
of the weak, but of the fair and even prin
ciples of a just commerce, a thriving agri
culture, and beautiful and industrial art.
Let us glory in everything that indi
cates this fact, as an index abo of our dc-
sire for renown. This great lesson hon
or to the working classes, in the propor
tion of their industry and merit the
world will yet completely learn. And
when the great exalting, leveling system
of Christianity gains its universal reign,
mountains will be brought down and val
leys will be filled ; a highway shall be
made for human prosperity and peace
for the elevation, and dignity, and secu
rity of man over which no oppressor's
foot shall pass ; the joorest of the sons of
Adam shall dwell unmolested and fearless
beneath his own vine and fig tree ; the
united families of earth shall all compete
to acquire and encourage the arts ef peace;
nation shall not rise up against nation,
and men shall learn war no more.
Iiaise Your Wife.
Praise your wife, men ; for pity's sake,
give her a little encouragement it won't
hurt her. She has made your home com
fortable, your hearth bright and shining,
your food agreeable. For pity's sake, tell
her that you thank her, if nothing more.
She don't expect it; it will make her eyes
open wider than they have for these ten
years ; but it will do her good for all that,
and you, too.
There are many women to-day thirsting
for the word of praise, the language of
encouragement. Through summer's heat
and winter's toil they have drudged un
complainingly ; and so accustomed have
their fathers, brothers and husbands be
come to their monotonous labors, that
they look for and upon them as they do
upon the daily rising of the sun and its
daily going down. Homely every-day life
may be beautiful by an appreciation of its
very homliness. You know that if the
floor is clean, manual labor has been per
formed to make it so. You know that if
you can take from your drawer a clean
shirt whenever you want it, somebody's
fingers have ached in the toil of making it
so fresh and agreeable, so smooth and lus
trous. Everything that pleases the eye
and the sense has been produced by con
stant work, much thought, great care aud
untiring efforts, bodily and mentally.
It is not that many men do not appre
ciate these things, and feel a glow of grat
itude for numberless attentions bestowed
upon them iu sickness and in health; but
they are so selfish in that feeling. They
don't come out with a heart-, "Why how
pleasant you make things look, wife," or,
"I am obliged to you for taking so much
pains." They thank the tailor for giving
them HUsj" they thank the man iu the
full omnibus who gives them a seat ; they
thank the young lady who moves along in
the concert room ; in short, they thank
everybody and evcrj'thing out of doors,
because it is the custom ; and they come
home, tip the chairs back and their heels
up, pull out the newspaper, grumble if
wife asks them to take the baby, scold if
the fire has got down ; or, if everything is
just right, shut their mouths with a smack
of satisfaction, but never say to her, 'I
I tell you what, men, young and old, if
you did but show an ordinary civility to
ward those common articles of housekeep
ing, 3'our wives; if you gave the one hun
dred and sixtieth part of the compliments
you almost choked them with before they
were married; if you would stop your
badinage about who you are going to have
wheu number one is dead, (such things
wives may laugh at, but they sink deep,
sometimes;) if you would cease to speak
of their faults, however banteringly, be
fore others, fewer women would seek for
other sources of happiness than your cold
so-so-ish affection. 1'raise your wife, then,
for all good qualities she has, and you
may rest assured that her deficiencies are
lully counterbalanced by your own.
Cokrf.ct Speaking. We advise all
joung people to acquire, in early life, the
habit of using good language, both in
speaking and writing, and to abandon, as
early as possible, any useot slang phrases.
The longer they liv c, the more difficult
the acquisition of correct language will
be ; and if the golden age of youth, the
proper season for the acquisition of lan
guage, be passed in its abuse, the unfortu
nate victim of neglected education is.very
properly, doomed to talk slang for life.
Money is not necessary to procure this ed
ucation. Every man has it in his power
He has merely to use the language which
he reads, instead of the slang which he
hears; to form his tastes fiom the best
speakers and poets of the country ; to
treasure up choice phrases in his memory
avoiding at the same time the pedantic
precision aud bombast, which show rath
er the weakness of a vain ambition than
the polish of an educated mind.
Four things that come not back-
the broken word, the sped arrow, the past
lite, and neglected opportunity.
Color and Dress.
You ought never to buy an article be
cause you can afford it. The question is,
whether it it suitable to your position and
habits, and the rest of your wardrobe.
There arc certain clothes that require a
carriage to be worn in, and are quite unfit
for walking in the streets. Above all,
do not buy wearing apparel because it is
miscalled cheap. There is no euch thing;
cheap clothes are dear to wear. The ar
ticle is unsaleable because it is either ugly,
vulgar, or entirely out of date. One rea
son why you see colors ill-arranged is, that
the different articles are purchased each
for its own imagined virtues, and without
any thought of what it is to be worn with.
Women, while shopping, buy what pleas
es the eye on the counter, forgetting what
they have got at home. That parasol is
pretty, but it will kill by its color ono
dress in the buyer's wardrobe, and be un
suitable for all others. An enormous sum
of money is spent yearly upon women's
dress ; yet how seldom a dress is so ar
ranged as to give the beholder any pleas
ure ! To be magnificently dressed certain
ly costs money ; but to be dressed with
taste is not expensive. It requires good
sense, knowledge, refinement. We have
seen foolish gowns, arrogant gowns. Wo
men are too often tempted to imitate the
dress of each other, without considering
"the difference of climate and complex
ion." The colors which go best together
are green with violet; gold color with
dark crimson or lilac ; pale blue with
scarlet; pink with blacker white; and
gray with scarlet or pink. A cold color
generally requires a warm tint to give
life to it. dray and pale blue, for in
stance, do not combine well, both being
cold colors -Dkl cns "AUthe 1 car Round'
True Origin of the .Mark.
The final solution to this much conjectu
red subject has been furnished by a cor
respondent of some paper, thus: "My
great grandfather, who was a genuine
Knickerbocker Dutchman, and kept a gro
cery and lager beer saloon on the corner
of Maiden Lane and Pearl street, during
the reign of his Majesty George III, be
came a little more hilarious than was his
wont, on a certain da' after a brisk busi
ness, and while in this happy mood under
took to figure up the amount of his re
ceipts. His eyesight was not over clear at
early morn, and of course was no better
after the imbibation of the untold num
ber of glasses a Dutchman can stow away.
Thus, with lager-bedimmed eyes, an un-
teady hand, and a short piece ot tallow
candle for a luminary, my ancient progen
itor commenced his task. In carrying
out the amount of one patron's account
for laser, which was 8 shillings, he got
the figure 8 all plain enough, but the shil
ling mark he failed to put in the right
place marking it down through the fig-
ure c. lie tried a second time, and with
but little better success, a3 it also ran par
tially through the 8. " ell, veil," said
he, -eight shillings ish a tollar, and a fol
iar ish eicht shillings zo I lets hnn
htan', and shuts mine sthore, ash 1 am
dired and shleepy mit mine eyes.
The Morrow. You, upon whom some
great and sudden calamity has i'alleu,
have vou forgotten the morrow ? When
sweet sleep has been to your aid, and lil
ted the weight lrom your heart, and you
have dreamt that your agony was a dream,
and have wakened to reality. Oh! the
morrow ! When the bright day has bro
ken, and the birds are singing gaily, and
happy faces are passiug you. When some
unconscious friend has seized your hand,
and mocked you with a joyous greeting.
Oh I the morrow ! When you rise to see
the empty chair to miss the accustomed
face to seek the idol you worshipped,
and find it broken. When you must act
for an altered end, with the ashes of a
withered hope clogging every step, and
embittering every thought. Oh ! the
morrow the morrow ! Fmtblanqun.
Cool Impudence. "Will you oblige
me with a light, sir V
''Certainly, with the greatest pleasure,"
said the stranger, knocking off the ashes
with his little finger, and presenting the
red of his cigar with a graceful bow.
Smith commences fumbling in his coat
pcckct, takes out his handkerchief, shakes
it, feels in his vest pocket with a most
desperate energy, and looks blank.
'Well, I do "declare, I havn't got one,
as sure as the world. Have you another
you could spare ?"
'Certainly," says the stranger, with a
smile, "and I beg you will accept it."
There is puffiing, then, till the fresh ci
ge.r ignites, when they separate with a
suave bow. Smith observes
'There! didn't I tell you I would get
it? That's the way to get along in this
world. Nothing like cool, polite impudence."