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3' T' ."ilX?"1180') EDITORS.
VOLUME 9.
LI AM KITTELL, Attorney at
Law, Ebensbnrg, Pa.
August 13. 18GS.
JOHN FENLON, Attorney at Law,
"Ebensburg, Pa.
57 Office on High street. augl3
G
KORGE M. HEADE, Attorney at
Law, Ebensbufg, Pa.
Office in Colonnade Row.
augl3
W
7ILLIAM II. SECIILER. Attor-
nev at Law, Ebensbnrg, Pa.
?y Office in Colonnade Row. fnug20
G
MOUGE W. O ATM AN, Attorney at
X Law and Claim Agent, and United
:des Commissioner for Cumbria county. Eb
ensburg, P. aug!3
JOHNSTON & SCANLAN, Attorneys
nt Law, Ebensbnrg, Pa.
gy OfT;c opposite tbe Court House.
u t. jo.'jx.'-tos. auc:13
J. E. SCAXLA.X.
J
OIKS f!. KASLY. Attorney at Law,
Carrolltown, Cnc.bria county, Pa.
Architectural Drawings and Hpecin
ationi made. faugI3
If J. WATERS. Justice of tic Peace
.J and Scrivener.
ty Office adjoining dwelling, on High St.,
Kljcn3burg, Pa. aug 13-6m.
J? A. SHOEMAKER, Attorney at
? Law, F.beuiburg, Pa.
Particular attention paid to collections.
UaT Office on High slrcvi, west of the Di-
mon.i.
Laugu
KOrtLlN, T. W. PICK,
Johntioa-n. J.ltnburg.
K
Ol'ULIN & DICK, Attorneys at
Law, Ebensbnrg, Ta.
&fT Office in Colonaue Row, with m.
KutclJ, Esq. Oct. '11.
J
OSEPII S. STRAYER, Justice
of
the Peace, Johnstown, Pa.
.5 Office on Market street, corner of Lo
cust street extended, und one door south of
the late office of H'ra. .M'Kee. augl3
R.
DEVER EAUX, M. !., Physician
and Surgeon, Summit, Pa.
JEfef" Office cast of JInns:on House, on R.UI
Tfl.id street. ."iglit calls promptly intended
U, at h'i3 office. " augl3
1) E V I TT Z E I G L E R
iffera his professional services to the
7.. 'in of hbensbtirg and vicinity. He will
T.iit Kbensburg the second Tuesday of each
raonili. to remain one week.
IVei'.i extracted, without paint with Xitrout
Oi"!i. or Laughing (i ts.
v-i!ooiin :n the "ilountain House,
U:-h street. aul.C
PK HNT ISTUY.
The undersigned, Graduate of the Bal-
f.morc College of Dental Surgery, respectfully
:.!'er his professional services to the citizens
of Ebensbnrg. He has spared no means to
'thoroughly acquaint himself with every ira
irjvtuciit in hi3 art. To many years of per
I ' . i! experience, he has sought to add the
imparted experience of the highest authorities
3u Pental iScience. He simply asks that an
opportunity may be given for his work to
j,tak its own pr.ii?e.
SA.MUEL Iir.M'ORD, D. D. S.
V.'ill beat Kiunsl urg on the fourth
Holiday of each l.icrtl:, t." stay one w :ek.
August 13, 18t3.
T
LOYD k CO., Bankrrx
Ebexsbcrci, V..
IH Cold, Silver, Government Loans and
nther Securities bought and sold. Interest
allowed on Time Deposits. Collections made
o i nil accessible points in the United States,
an l k General Banking Business transacted.
Au-u.U 13, 18G3.
w
31. LLOYD & Co , linkers
AuocN', Pa.
Dmfis or. the principal cities, and Silver
r.l CoM for sale. Collections- made. Mon
Tsr(ctivej on deposit, payable on demand,
uhout interest, or upon time, with interest
t U.r r.r.cs. far.gl3
il FIRST NATIONAL HANK
Of Johnstown, Penna.
T t.tl S OU.WJO 00
i.:tto'irrenae. to 1 00,000 00
1;'e t ii v nd sell Inland and Foreign Drafts,
an,l Si! Tor 11 n A n.11 rlnsae? of Govem-
tten: Securities ; make collections at home
abroad ; receive deposits ; loan money,
ii do a general Ilauking business. All
b'Jiiness entruste d to us will receive prompt
!:f!Uion aud cart, at moderate prices. Give
"i a trial.
Dirtctort : .
J. t f I? ! P , T.
John Dibf.rt,
Jacod Levkroooo,
James McMillen.
""r Ku kmas,
jcob M. Camvbell,
eonjR Fuitz.
DANIEL J. MORRELL, rretident.
J. RoilEUTS, C-liflU
sep31y
m. LtovD, Prei't. John lloyd, Cathitr.
THIRST NATIONAL RANK
OF ALTOONA.
G 0 1 'ERXMEXT A GEXCY,
Designated depository of the uni
ted STATES.
trKj'"' -rner Virginia and Annie sts., North
J1. Altoona, 1A.
A' Capital Paid in 150,000 00
,i,ern:ti Uevenue Stamps of all denomina-
n5 hhviWS on t.unH
10 purchasers of Stamp?, percentage, in
'nine ...:n i .. . 1 ' JT-' .
5l0j i allowed, as follows: 5ro to
j0 ; ? :ui. to uu, a per cent.;
. " 4 "learns, 4 per cent. Laugl3
liAIlAMTiL7vTNErrW
su . Eeensbcrg, Pa.
lono Vlnr' S,,arnrong, and Hair-dressing
.i the most artistic style.
Uiljlfo ' 'ilo,?n liirecll7 opposite the "Moun
o,,se aug!3
RATIONAL SOAP AND CANDLE
M A NU FACTOR V,
Vholp. nly!tY SCllXAULE,
I , l!e celcr in Soap, Candles, Groce
, ;.;"or9nd Fish, at cit prtct,.
Majx sr., JOHNSTOWN PA.
The DruQkard's Child.
You ask uie why I itray alone
A stranger 'mid the bnsy crowd.
Kind sir, I have not one to own
My father rests in pauper's shroud.
To tell my tale kind sir, 'tis gad,
But such it was not always so,
For I was onco a child so glad
Who knew not want, nor care, nor woe.
I ence dwelt in a cottage fair
Far from the city'8 crowded mart;
Mid pleasant sunshine, light and air,
A careless, free, and langhiug heart.
My father he was loving then
I was his Only, petted child,
But since we'lett the village glen
He never once upon me smiled.
A happy heme was ours I ween,
None happier in all the vale,
No want, no misery was seen,
No cause to make the cheek grow pal.
Ah, those were happy golden hours I
And I was like a singing bird
That wandered 'mid the vale3, the flowers,
And mimicked every sound I heard.
A gentle mother smiled on me,
She guarded, shielded rith her love,
'Till from our wan and misery
Her spirit fled to worlds above.
Yes, from our want and misery,
For father trod the path of fin ;
Oh ! 'twas a dreadful sight to see
My father 'mid the drunken men.
Companions lured him on to drain
The fatal glass, my mother sigh'd,
Aud pleaded hard, but all in vain
And this the reason why she died.
He had a smiling face no more
Except in some wild drunken spreo,
So different from that of yore,
Such mirth and s.nile were sad to see.
I went no longer to the gate
To meet him as from work he c&me,
He was so cros3, and came so late, -He
was but father in the name.
Aud then that awful night of woe.
He stagger'd in my mother cried
Alas ! he struck that cruel blow
My gentle mother droop' d and died.
She faded like a tender Cower
From that firtt Lurch nud cri
She cev.-r smiled from that sad hour
Till I was left aionc in woe.
My father fled the smiling glen,
The waving wood3,the murmuiing stream,
To dwell 'mid busy haunts of men,
And drick to druwn that awful dream.
The crowded street the murky air
Such sights were not the sc-nes for aie ;
The wretched room the scanty ft.re
Ours was a life uf misery 1
Outside the public house one night
I watched aud waited in the street,
A crowd ruah'd out there was a fight
And he lay lifeless at nn' feet.
I knelt by fcim I could not cry
My fingers wandered in hi? hair
I wildly gazed in that blank eye
I kissed, I hugged in r.ild despair!
They laid him in a pauper's shell,
They laid bimin a pauper's grave,
There was for him no passing bell,
The passing crowd no pity garo.
I know he did not mean to slay
My gentle mother by that bloT ;
Yet, he was somewhat kind that day
The murderous hand had laid hint low.
Oh I speak not harshly of the dead
My mother had forgiven his fall ;
I kiss'd him in his narrow bed,
And, sir, I too forgave him all.
"YY ii at Killed LIim. A few ycarsago,
when Judge Gould of Troy, lately deceas
ed, was holding court in that city, a priso
ner was being tried before him for willful
murder, in causing the death of a man by
a pistol shot. An eminent physician and
surgeon was ou the stand as a witnesj for
defence.
The prisoner's counsel, an adroit lawyer,
attcnipicd to show that the man, who
lived some little time after Being shot,
might have died from some other cause,
and examined his witness after this style:
"Docter, would not such a thing cause
death?"
"Oh, j-es, sir."
"This is quite sufficient for us," ex
claimed the defendant's counsel, with an air
of trinmph, twirling his eye-glass.
Judge Gould turned on his seat, bent
his large, keen, penetrating black eye full
on the witness, and said a little sharply:
: Doctor, you have now told us what
miyht have caused thi3 man's death; what
did cause his death?"
" The bullet, sir," answered the witness.
This ended the case. "
An officer, who was inspecting his com
pany one morning, spied one private whose
shirt was sadly begrimed. '
"Patrick OTlinn," called out the captain.
"Here, yer honor!" promptly responded
Patrick, with hand to his cap.
"How long do you wear a shirt?" thun
dered the officer,
"Twenty-eight inches, sir!" was the ready
rejoinder. - - -
I WOULD RATHER BE RIGHT
EBENSBURG, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL
A FAMILY JAR, ANOWHAT CARE OF IT
I remember it as though it had happen
ed yesterday. It was the biggest row we
ever had in our family.
It was a cold, rainy evening in the early
part of December. We all sat down to
the supper table as usual, but not appar
ently in our usual good humor.
By "all," I mean our family, which con
sisted of father, mother, my two sisters,
Clara and Lizrie, Rob and myself.
Bob Carver was one of our family, as he
said, "by brevet." His mother and my
mother had been frierids in girlhood, and
had never out-grown their intimacy. Ever
since Bob had lived in the city he had
boarded at our house, and he seemed like
one of us. . i . ... r -: -
lie was a jolly fellow, and appeared to
think a good deal of us all, especially Clara,
who, by the way, did not seem to care par
ticularly for him, though of course, she
liked him "well enough," as we all did.
The relations between these two had
caused me some painful consideration. I
liked Bob very much, and would have been
glad to have him in the family more fully
than by ''brevet." Besides this, my re
gard for him made me feel a warm sympa
thy for his unreciprocated affection for
Clara. I was in love myself, and thought
that if Maggie Cranston showed as much
indifference to me as Clara did sometimes
toward Bob, that I should have been in cx
prcssibly miserable.
Besides this, Clara seemed, to take a
good deal of pleasure in the company of
that stupid Jim Bayne, whose chief da
light seemed to be in talking about relig
ion, politics and other subjects, which bored
me intolerably. I was nineteen, and po
etical. It always seemed to me that Lizzie would
have suited Bob better than Clara, anyhow.
They were both fond of music, and often
played and sang together ; but they never
jrot along smoothly together; they did
not appear to agree about anything but
music, and they quarreled about th.rX.
Yet they would still practice together.
Their voices harmonized well, and I sup
posed they tolerated each for the 3,ke of
the music.
I could never understand Lizzie's con
duct toward Bob. It was absurd. Some
of his ideas that tho argued against with
all her might, when he stated them, she as
warmly defended in "wrsation with fU
rest of us. I believe she delighted in be
ing contrary.
Mother sometimes rebuked her petu
lence to Bob, b"ut father said it made no
difference, it was customary for musical
people to quarrel. He was quick-tempered
himself, and Lib was more like him
than any of the rest of us were.
But to return to that December evening.
As I have said, the weather was bad. For
that reason, I suppose, the boy had failed
to leave the evening paper.
When father came in. he asked for the
paper, and said, "Confound the boy."
When Bob came in, he asked for the pa
par, and went up stairs to change his boots,
grumbling about hanging the boy to the
nearest lamp post.
The girls were in a bad humor, because
they had been unable to get out shopping
that afternoon on a holiday shopping ex
pedition : while mother was worried be
cause the bread had not turned out well,
and the buckwheat cakes showed a tend
ency to become sour.
Mother said something about the bread,
said she had been over the baking all day,
and it seemed as though it never would
rise. She said, "I think either the flour
or the yeast is bad."
Father, just to be disarrecablc, I sup
pose, said, 4A bad workman always com
plains of tools."
Mother flushed instantly. She was a
good bread maker, and she knew it.. She
said, "That don't apply to me. "We gen
erally have as good bread as any one, don't
you think so, Robert?"
Bob, who looked ns though he was work
ing out some problem in mental arithme
tic, answered, "I don't presume to criti
cise the fare at my boarding house."
This was improving things rapidly, Bob
calling our house his boarding house.
After supper Bob went up to his room
and smoked a cigar, and afterward came
down in a more social humor. In accord
ance with a previous arrangement he and
Lizzie sat down to practice au instrument
al duet.
I sat in the parlor reading, and, so long
as the music ran smoothly on, I paid no
attention to it; but suddenly there was a
discord, and then it ceased.
"You made a mistake there," said Bob,
pointing to the music.
"No, it was you," said Lizzie, ' "and
there is what it was," pointing at one of
the hieroglyphics with which composers j
disfigure paper. I
"I beg pardon," said Bob ; "but I could
not have made such a mistake, as I am !
A11;tn Amilinr WhthA nWrt. T rdaved .
with Miss. Peterson the other evening,
and she made
only she saw
"Oh. ves :
whir if vou nointed it out. AVhafc ha
Miss Peterson to do with Die?"
' j , ...
"I surely thought that you and I had
lived long enough in the same house to
gether, and were sufficiently intimate if
not friendly to allow mo to differ with
you spmctimev and even to quote uth-r-
the same aiistako you did, ! was about the happiest one we ever did eat.
it when I pointed it out." , llappjness m contagious, ana tnere was
she would see that black wr.s ; enov.gh of it in Lizzie's eyes alone to have
THAN PRESIDENT. Hkkbt Clay.
ity in support of my own opinion when it J
was at variance with vours "
1 "Whatever friendly relations there were
need not continue. You have chosen to
define your position in the house as that of
a mere boarder, and, as such, had no right
to flout another young lady in my face,
and claim that because sha made a mistake,
I must have done so, too. You talk queer
ly about this music anyhow. If you are
us laminar witn the dipcr ns vmi
r7rMYk Pr'CC - . 1 3 U
not rirht about tho mistnl-P -wi i ..
m I ..v-,
i ,. - A, . , - "
- j-. .i.iua. iuu me, uurh:ii.
li a man Had given Rob Carver the lie
so directly, I suppose he would have knock
ed dim down A? it was he jumped
without a word and weut to his room.
up
T-jj-zzie pmvcu several very lively airs
with great animation, and was as merry as
a bird until sue went to bed:
Her apparent triumph over the matter
angered me, aud I bluntly ' told her she
had been ill-natured and' unlady-like ;
whereupon she informed me that "children
should be seen and not heard."
At breakfast, next morning, all of us had
apparently recovered our good humor, but
there was something forced about Bob's
gayety. I noticed that ho and Lizzie said
nothing to each othen When he left, he
would not be back to supper. (He alwars
dined down town.) As tiiij was not alto
gether unusual, no one but myself appear
ed to notice it, except Clara, who looked
at Lizzie with a sort of "told vou so"
gknee. . - , :
Bob came homo that evening, and we
did; not see him till the next morning. At
breakfast Lizzie seemed about to say some
thing to him, once, but did not do so.
FntLer, mother, and Clara went to
church. Bob and I concluded not to ro,
and it was Lizzies turn to stay at home
and superintend the preparation for 'din
ner. Wo were accustomed to eating good
dinners on Sunday, as it was the only time
we could all eat that good meal together
and take our time at it. We all enjoyed
those Sunday dinners keenly.
Just before the folks started to church.
Clara and Lizzie were talking earnestly to
gether, and Clara said, -Yes you ought to
do it at once." I gave no heed to the
words then, but afterwards knew what
they referred to.
Father had a sort of half-library, half-
Tirti lirv chlltM - wl (Uiva nAt 1 T J
he to take a smoke and myself to read.
After wo had been there a short time,
Lizzie tapped at the door and walked in.
I asked her if she would have a cigar, to
which she made no reply, but walked di
rectly toward Bob, who iuvoluntarily got
up to meet her.
I saw that they were about to make up
their quarrel ; but as I had been present
at half a dozen make-ups of theirs, I only
thought it necessary to gaze, with sudden
interest, out of the window.
Lizzie commenced : "Mr, Carver, I was
rude ; I was provoked at what you said
at the table, and so forgot myself; I'm
sorry."
I wished I had gone out," but they were
between mo and the door, so I did not
know what to do.
Bob maintained an awkward silence for
a few seconds. I began to feel interested.
I knew that was pretty much of an apolo
gy for Lib to make to any one, and I men
tally said if did not accept it as frankly
as it was offered, he wa3 a- well, not what
I thought him.
Lizzie must have grown tired of his si
lence for she had turned around from the
window, when Bob said "Stop." She
turned toward him and lis continued :
"Lizzie, don't think I am such a brute
as not to accept your apology. I was only
at a loss to find words to express my re
gret at having provoked you into saying
what you did. It was all my fault."
"No it wasn't," cuitly returned Lizzie ;
and I mentally concluded that they would
quarrel over this.
But Bob entir.uod -seriously, and in a
most lugubrious tone, said, "Well, may be
it isn't. I guess it is fate. It is the re
sult, I suppose, of overensitivcucss to your
indifference or dislike."
"Bob !" exclaimed Lizzie.
"It's true," he said, "I can't help-feeling
that you don't like me, and my uneas
iness leads me to act so as to increase your
aversion.
I wished I had
They seemed o
be settling not only their last quarrel, but
all that they had ever had.
. "You had no right to say that, Bob.
You kuow I don't dislike you," said
Lizzie, actually breaking down and sob
bing. .
I guess he must have concluded that he
knew it, for he took her in his capacious
arms iust as I passed them on a retreat,
terribly ashamed of not having gone iu the
Grst place. '
I do not know what took place allcr 1
left, but so far as dinner was concerned,
Lib trjight as well have gone to cliurcn.
Bridget got it all right, and I think it
moculated a whoi-3 rc-riment witii io?.
I believe Clara saw the state of affairs
at once and shared Lizzie's joy to the
greatest possible degree.
Father and mother seemed to accept the
"era'of good feeling," without explanation,
while Bob wss insane.
' ' i a . i i i . ... i . ,
22, "18697
lit
C asKOU lathpr :hrvif tb.- ... J
V 1 m
. -- -wv, JWUWU, UIIU
I un ".: assured tliat it was an excclle
j one, said he would take a little of it.
nt
i'atner asked him, "What?'' and he
satd "potatoes."
He helped hiiaaelf to a spoonful, and
then deliberately took a spoonful of butter.
Mother significantly asked him if he
thought smokm" airreed with him. and he
told her yes, he considered it a delightful
1 nrAi..iA . ,1 1. 1. . x 1. i
I he reached for the mola
, ' ,.
i cAficisu: hiiu as ne ir.tve ncr tins iiov
sscs and
poureu ii over nis potatoes aim bit
tter.
I Ins was too much for Clara and me.
and we burst into an uncontrollable fit of
lauirhtf-r. wliirth rpr-,l!.wl U..K
Milieu reeuiieu lioo to ins sii-p-
ii , tt .
and blushing crimson, he confess.-;
th-it
he was absent minded, as ho had just Wen
aoljj to see his war. el Mr in a matter
which had troubled b-mi for months.
He then heartily joined in lli'e general
latifh :it his niitnlr T.I--.-I. ;..
and blllsllillT a r.inl- nnfiintniniumn'- -. T.;
deep crimson flush.
Bob and father took asmoke in
that afternoon, and mother and
the office
the "iris
held a conference in the parlor : I took
a
walk.
When I came back Clara said, "Ycu're
a gump."
Without any idea of what thru might be,
I meekly assented, and said, '-I had no
idea of what was coming ; I thought Bob
wanted you instead of Lib."
"Y'ou're all the worse gump for that,"
said she ; "and for fear you can't see
something else in time. I'll tell you now
that I am engaged to Mr. Baync."
I thought the marrying days of the
year had come, and I went off to my roon
to indulge in a delightful dream of my
own marriage, in the far-off future with
Maggie Cranston.
Five years have passed since then.
Clara and Lizzie got married, of course,
and I stood up at their weddings. Clara
keeps house. Bob and Lizzie still live at
our house, aud father insists that they al
ways shall.
1 did not think Jim Bavno so stupid as
I once did. Three years in the fish and
oil business as junior member of the firm
of Marton ?c Son. have damaged my poet
ic enthusiasm, while Baync's seem some
how or other on the increase.
I have not married Maggie Cranston.
In fact I do not know her. Wo did not
so full' expected to marry her, and tho't
I could not get along without her.
I am still a youthful bachelor, awaiting
an opportunity to quarrel with some young
lady, as Bob Carver did with our Lizzie ;
but I don't want any nineteen year -old
brothers on hand at the reconciliation.
Tiie Great Lessons.
The first great lesson a young man
swould learn is that he knows nothing.
The earlier and the more thoroughly this
lesson is learned the b2tter. A home-bred
youth growing up in the light of parental
admiration, with everything to foster his
vanity and self-esteem, is surorised to find,
and often unwilling to acknowledge, the
superiority of other people. But he is
compelled to learn his own insignificance ;
his airs are ridicnlod, his blunders exp sed,
his wishes disregarded, and he is made to
cut a sorry figure, until his self-conceit is
abased, and ho feels that he knows noth
ing. When a young man
comprehended the fact
has . thoroughly
that he knows
nothing, and that, intrinsically, he is but
of littI-3 value, the next lesson is that the
world cares nothing about him. lie is
th
subiect of no man's overwhelminsr ud-
miration ; neither petted by the on.
...ii .i.. ...i i. . i. . . i .
! SJX,
nor -cnvieu uv me otuer, uu u:io to tao
care of himself. lie will not be noticed
till he becomes noticeable ; he will not be
come noticeable until he dies something
to prove that he is of some use to society.
No recommendation or introduction wU
give him this, or ought to give him this ;
he must do something to be recognizjd as
somebody.
Tho next lesson is that of patience.
A man must learn to wait as well as work,
and to be content with those means of ad
vancement in life which he may use with
integrity and honor. Patience is one of
the most difficult lessons to learn. It is
natrual for tile mind to look for immcdi-
j utc results.
IjC this, then, be understood at starting
that die patient conquest of difficulties
which rise m the regular and legitimate
channels of business and enterprise is not
only essential in securing the success which
a young man seeks in life, but essential to
that preparation of the mind requisite for j
re you an Odd Fellow ?'
" i o,
sir, 1 vc been married a week. !
"I mean do you belong to the Order of !
Odd Fellows?" j
'No! I belong to the order ol married
men.1'
"Thunder! how dumb. Are"you a ma-
son
ii
o. I am a carpenter by trade."
"Worse and worse ! Arc you a Son of
Temperance
Confound you, no.
I am too son of Mr.
1 John Gosling "
iug it when gained. It is the general some time. What do you think v it .
rule, in all the" world and in all time, that "Wouldn't do it." s tid the other,
unearned success is a curso. "Well, why ' .
TSRMS-2-no A!M 11,
ADVAXf'E.
NUMBER 87.
li-elty Top Djjtj.
If thor.; is HJiytamg proMijr i fmore sen
sible than tho sh v.t Ureses which the la
dies wear nov, v, ,t U it? If thm J--,, v.
thin:
more b .v.-itchintr than- tlvwo n-i n
ning little feet ti.at trip with a light spring
across th'j street and along our sidewalks.
even tri the uuiuJ . d;:v.. wS-ir. ru it 1.-
iO llllluut
what can it ba ?
As
wh
en j.v
1 U ) s
riueess und nor
twain wer"
Mibing the rocks,
-.a ny a . f. ;(.,oi
-1 fine like a jewel ict
la the d:ir.i crag;
oo tnev SiiwKj "ver
our rough cross
Anl you re mem
vr.tU and pavements.
b"r that cr.r very
cnamiinir characteristic
of pretty Arabella Allen in Pickwick wa
that she wore a very nice little uir of boots
with tur around th
top which. Mr. Pick-
...... t ..
t:: over the .stile with
i uevy ot
auuiseis
v. i-i wc:" rnoyiri'? th
r Christmas frolicJ
! and
who, says tno autner,
1 M .1 .1
'ha.
vin:
pret-
; ty teet and unexceptionable ankles, pre
I ;-rrea" vt:UKinS 0,1 tuc t0P rai' &V(i miuutes,"
' declail,,o tJiat l'ia7 w.tj tx i'r'gh'cn.d to
move.
The short dresses have led the ladies to
I pa' particular attention to their feet, and
they have almost reached perfection in thoaa
thick, firm and artistically shaped shoes
which they now wear in place of the thin
soled and sprawling things aroii'i l which
they used to drapple their muddy skirts.
; A woman's foot now is, as it ought to
be, a legitimate object of a-Lniration, and it
is uot necessary 'lUr vcuriuus loungers to
wait fur muddy days and wind storms,
a:sd to congregate o:i corrrors to see them,
while the modest young ladies could enly
; express their ad miration of that wise com-
j pcusation of Providence by which the satno
wind that mussed their crinoline blew dust
into the eyes -.'f the wicked young men
who would take advantage of their confu
sion. We can echo at this time an equal
praise to the girl that wears th rt dressc
that Stedman sang in the "sweet broguo"
of the Emerald Islo to the girl .with tho
balm oral :
'Thir here's to the g.il with the balmoral
And dainty top-boots slinder,
Who'd as discrate as she is swatd,
And wise as she is tender.'
Bedbugs in Idaho. "Talk about
bedbugs," said Bill Jones, who had been
Across the plains, "you should have seim
tlors, who lived in a log cabin containing
only one room and a loft. When li came
time to go to bed, they strung a blanket
across the middle of the room, and the act-
tier's family sL-nt
on 'me side of it and ufavo
me the oth.;r. - I laid down to go to sleep,
and the bedbugs began to gat her like launch
eaters around a free day out.' I triad to
kiver up and keep away from 'em, but tha
pesky varmints would catch hold of the bed
clothes and pull them off from me. They
did'nt think nothing of draggin' me around
the room if I held on. I fit 'em till mid
night, and then looked around for somo
way of escape. There was a ladder reach
in', up into the loft, aud I thought the best
way to cot away from the blood-suckers
was to climb up thar, so I did. Thcro
wasn't any bags io the loft, and I laid down
congratu! uin' myself on my escape. Pretty
quick I heard the ladder squeakin' as if
s:o.nehody -.v.s eomin' 'up. Bimeby I saw
a bedbug rai-: himself up through the hob
in the floor an ; look carefully around tho '
loft. S ion's ho saw me lie motioned to his
chums below, the blood-thirsty cu3, and
! cried, exulting! v: "Come up, boys, he a
here!"
Taking out your watch during asermort
i is no small exploit. There are many ad-
i -
vantages arising froai it. In the first place it
will be known that a man has a watch. In
the second place, he will -how that the
scrmo1' has nt much affected i.iti. Third
ly, it viil bj i u lii; o t t'i min
ister that he has preached long enough,
and thould bring the sermon a close. Four
thly, it will take up a portion of the time
arii attention, so that a part of tho sermon,
certainly, if not the who'e, will pass by tho
man an the idle wind, and balost. Fifthly,
it will show what estimate the man puts
on the message of grace. Sixthly, it will
abstract the notice of others around, and
turn avray their attention from the mess
age in like manner. Seventhly, it is an
act very much in harmony with a pasago
of tho Scripture: "When will the new
. i. ,i i
moon Di gone, mat we may sen com; aim.
' the Sabbath, that we may set forth wheat
-Ames, viii, 1.
Two lawyers in Lowell were returning
from court, when one said to to the other:
"I've a notion to join Rev. Mr. 'a
for
"Becausj it culd do you no possible
good, while it miht bo a great injury to
the church."
The Mule. The mewl is a larger burd
than tho gusc or the turky.
It has two legs to walk with, and 2 mor
to kick with : and it wears
its wmgs
on
the side of its head.
It is ttubbornly backward about going
forward.
-Tho new back-gammon the Grecian.
bend.
TT