VOLUM E 4. sctcct IJoctrir. THE BRIDAL. IT A OOSFIHMED BACHELOR- Not a langh wa* hoard, nor a Joyous note, As our Mend to the bridal we hurried; frot a wit discharged hit frrewell shot, As the bachelor went to be married We married him quickly to nave hit frißht, Our heads from the sad tight turning; And we tlghed at we stood by the Limp's dim light, To think that he was not more discerning. To think that a barlolor free and bright, And shy of those* as we found him, Phould there at the altar, at dead of night, Be caoght ia the snare that bound him. Few and thort were the words we said, - Though of wine and cake partaking. We escorted him home from the scene of dread, While his knees were awfuUy thaking Slowly and sadly we marched him down From the first to the lowei most story; And we never hare heard or seen the poor man Wh~m we left alone in hi* glory. A CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. BY T. S. ARTHUR. Two children were playing on a lawn in front of a white cottage. Around the porch and windows climbed roses and honeysuckles. Smooth walks, bordered with flowers, ran through the lawn ; and everything about the cottage and grounds liad an air of taste and comfort. A little way off, and across the road, stood another cottage ; but very diiferent in appearance- Tho lawn in front was overgrown with weeds, and the walks with cc.aT.iC grass. The fence that enclosed the lawn was broken in many pla.es, and the gate, held only by the lower hinge, stood half opon and awry. No roses or vines hung their green and crimson cur tains about the window, or clambered up the porch. The cottage had once been white, white as that before which the children p'ay ;d; but now it was dingy and soiled, an l looked forlorn and com fortless. There was ns much difference in the appearance of the children as in the two cottages. One was neatly and cleanly dressed, and had a happy face, ihe clothes of the other were poor and soiled, ■and his face had a sober look. One play ed with a hearty enjoyment, laughing ami shouting at times; the other in a quiet and subdued way. Why this difference between tho two cottages and the two childreu? When just built, the cottages and grounds were alike in size and beauty, an 1 they that ■dwelt in them alike happy. It is sorrowful to give the reason. You ■will know it soon. " Jim, isn't that your father?" asked the well-dressed boy, as a man appeared corning down tho road a little way off. Jim started iu a half-seared minuer, and turned towards the road. He stood very still for a moment or two, looking at the man, and then with a face now red and now very pale, shrank away and laid himself close down upon the grass uuder some currant bushes, say ing as he did so, in a choking voice, " Don't, b'reddy, please, tell him 1 ui !he Te " Light and joy went out of Freddy's face also, lie understood too well what all this mcaut. Staggeaing down tho road came Mr. Ilarwood, Jim's father. What a sad sight it was. As ho drew nearer, and Freddy Wilson, hbld to the spot where he was stauding as if bound there by a spell, sav •his red and swollen face, and liea. d him muttering and swearing to himself, he shuddered with a feeling of horror. As Mr. Haiwood was passing the gato ho saw Freddy and stopped. I'reddy be gan to tremble. Ilis first thought was to run back to the house ; but he was a brave little boy, and it went against his fool ings to run away from anything. So he did not move. " Is my boy Jim hero ?" asked Mr. Ilarwood, in an angry voice. Some men •when drunk are always .ill-natured and cruel, and Jim,s father was one of these. Seeing Freddy, and knowing that tho two boys played mueh together, he naturally thought of his own son. Freddy did not answer. He could not tell a lie, and so he said nothing. '< Bid you hear me ?" growlod Mr. ■llarwood, more angrily. Still Freddy looked at him and said ■nothing. He knew that if Jims father found him there, ho would kick aud cuff jhim ail the way home. Not that Jim Was in any fault, or had disobeyed his father ; but Mr. Ilarwood, as I have said, was full of anger and oruolty when drunk, and took a savage pleasure in abusing his little boy. Freddy began to leel braver now, be cause he wished to save Jim from harm. This is usually the way. The moment wre forget ourselves, when in danger, and bee one anxious about others, tear leaves and is-c grow calm and brave. There was a bolt on the inside of the gate near which Freddy was standing.— With a stealthy motion, not seen by the drunken man, he slipped this bolt and ■fastened the gate. It was not done an iustaut too soon, for Mr. Ilarwood, grow ing furious, made a dish towards ihe boy, aud tried to get at him through the pate. "You young dog!" he cried, *'lll teach you manners ! Why don tyou an swer ms? Where's Jim? Mr. Harwood rattled the cafe violently, and tiied, with his unsteady hands, to find the bolt on the inside. But his efforts were in vain. Ho could not reach the littiu follow, who stood close up to him with a brave but sorrowful face. AMERICAN CITIZEN. " You'd better go home, sir. I'll tell my father of this." There was" a manly firmness in the ait; of Freddy, and a re buking tone in his voice, that had their effect upon the drunken man. " Who cares for your father? I dou't 1" ho replied, moving back a step or two from the gate, muttering and swearing. " But I say, youngster!" and he came toward Freddy again, with a scowling look on his swollen and disfigured face. "Just answer me one thing. Say yes or no. Is that young scamp of mine here?" " 1 don't know ail}' young scamp of yours, Mr. Ilarwood," replied Freddy. "You don't, hey! Now that's cool for a model young gentleman like Master Wilson. Don't know my Jim " I know your Jim very well," said Freddy. " But hc'sfi good little boy and not a young scamp; and I don't think you are a kind father to call hiui such an ugly name. This rebuke was felt by Mr. Ilarwood, drunk as he was. lie could not stand Freddy's cloar eyes and steady look.— Then away dowu in his heart, almost oovi ered up and lost, was an old feeling of fatliorly pride, and this stirred at the words of praise spoken about Jim. " A good little boy." The anger went out of Mr. Harwood's face. " lie was a good little boy onco," said he, with something so like tenderness in his voice that Jim, who was lying close by, hidden uuder the currant bushes, Li stening to every word, sobbed out aloud. " What's that ?" asked Mr. Ilarwood, leaning forward and looking toward the currant bushes. But the sound was hushed in a mo ment. Jim had choked down his feoU ings. " lie's a good little boy now," said Freddy, speaking in a very firm voice, and not seeming to hear the sob, or the question of Jim's father. " A good little boy," he repeated; an l added, to make his assertion stronger," There isn't a bet ter one anywhere about here, if lus father does beat him aoout, and let him go rag ged when he ought to have good clothes like the ro-t of us." Mr. Ilarwool didn't stop'to heir any thing fatther, but turned from the gate toward the poor cottage acfj-is the road, walking more steadily than lie had done a short time before. Then Freddy went behind the currant buihes where Jinr j still lay on the ground. '• lie's gone," said Freddy. The pent up grief of Jim's sid heart could be restrained no longer, lie burst out into a wild fit ol cryiugg, that contin ued for several minutes. Freddy said all that he could to ooinfort his liftlc friend ; and wheu lie had grown calm, asked with the soberness of one who felt in earnest, i " Can't something be done, Jim?" JLin shook his head in a hopeless way. ■' Something ought to bo done ! I'm sure something could be done if we just knew what it was. Oh ! isn't drinking an awful thing !" '• It's the worst thing in the world." said Jim, and it's no wonder he thought so. " When father is sober," ho went on, " he's just as kiud as ho can be : but when he's drunk—o dear ! it's dreadful to think of ! " l)oos he got drunk very often ?" asked Freddy. " Now lie does, lie's drunk 'most all the time. Bat it wasn't so always. Oh dear!" And Jim's tears ran over his again. "Ho used to be BO good to us," he sobbed, "and take us out with him sometimes, and buy us nice things. Ho never does it now. 'Most all tho money he gets is spout at the tavern.— Hut I must run home. Mother is sick, and father is so cro-s when lie's been drinking; and she's weak and can't bear it" Jim got up from behind the currant bushes and walked toward tho gate. " Aren't you afraid he'll beat you ? lie was iu a dreadtul-rago at you about something just now," said Freddy. " May be he will and may be he won't," answered Jim. " But 1 musn't stop to thiuk of that. Mother is sick ani weak, and father will be so cross to her." And he started off and passed through the gate. Freddy, retnembariug liow his defense and praise of Jim tiad cooled Mr. Har wood's anger, said to himself, "May be 1 can do some good," and started after his littlo Iricud, resolved tD face tho drunkeu mau again in tho hope of turn ing away his wrath. Tho two lads entered Jim's poor home together, and stood face to f'aoe with Mr. ilarwood. " O father !" exclaimed Jim, as he saw, with glad surprise, a look of almost ten der pity ou his father's countenance ; and as he spoke, he sprang forward and caught his baud, clinging to it tightly. This was too mueh for Mr. Ilarwood, who was dot yet sober enough to control his feeling.-, and he turned away with a choking s'.'b, trying to draw his hand out of Jim's; bJt the boy would not let g« his hold. And now Freddy spoke out in beha'f of his little friend, "* " Jitn'e a good boy, Mr. Ilarwood. I know all the boys around here, and there isn't one of them better than Jim.— Father says so too ; and lets me have liim over at our house whenever I please." % Who said ho wasn't a good boy?" au-wered Mr. Ilarwood, turning upon Freddy with a h ilf angry manner. "I'd just like to hear auyliody speak against him, I would !" Au-l ho sat down, drawing Jim between his knS.'s as he spoke. A pale, thiu, halt-frightened woman, Jim's m I'.hor, now came in from the next room, wondering what all this could mean. Her eager eyes ran hurriedly from face to face. " Don't LJ stared, Ellen," said Mr. "Let us have Faith that Right makes Might; and in that Faith let us, to the end,dare to do our duty as we understand it"— A. LINCOLN BUTLER, ISUTLEII COUNTY, PENN A, WEDNESDAY, JULY 24, 18G7- Harwood, kindly. "There isn't anything wrong. I'm only having a little talk with these boys." He was almost sober now; excitament of feeling had cleared his stupid brain. Looking frim one to the other of the lads, he could not help noticing the painful contrast; one so clean and well dressed, the other soiled and ragged. He knit his brows closely, and sat very still, like one arguing with himself. " I'll tell you what it is. mother," and lie turned toward Mrs. Harwood,"l'm not going t« have Jim running about looking like a beggar's child, lie's just as good as any of the boys around here, and I'll not have him ashamed to be seen with the best of them." Jim covered his face with his hands, but could not hide tlia tears of joy that came trickling through his fingers. His father saw them. Laying dis hand on tho boy's head, he made this promise, speaking in a solemn voice. " I will drink nothing stronger than tea or coffee while I live, God being my nelper!" " Oh, thank God!" almost wildly ex claimed Jim's mother, dropping upon her knees aud clasping hei husband's neck. " Oh, thanks be to God !" she re peated. "He will be your helper. In him is all compassion and all strength ; but without him our poor resolves are as llax in the fire." Freddy stood looking on for a little while, greatly moved by what was pass ing ; then he walked quietly to the door v and was going out, when Mr. Ilarwood called to him, saying, " Just one word before you go. I'm sorry to say it; but it's iu my thought now, and I feel it had better come out. May be I wouldn't say it another time." Freddy stopped and turned toward Mr. Harwood. " I'm sorry to say it, Freddy, I am, for yur'c a nice boy and have always been good to Jim. But you'll thank mo for it, may be, one of these days." Tlrerc was something in Mr. Harwood's manner that sent a feeling of alarm to Freddy's heart. He stood still, waiting, every pulse beat sounding in his ears. '• May be your father's head is stronger than miuc was five years ago," said Mr. Ifarwjod, " but I've scon him at the lil.ick Horse too often of late, going on just as I began. It isn't sale, Freddy! It isn't safe ! And 1 don't like to see him there. Look at what I've come to! Hut there was a time when I could hold my head as high as Mr. Wilson or anybody elso in the neighborhood." Freddy waited to hoar no more It seemed as if night had fallen suddenly ou his young spirit, aud as if the, air would suffocate him. lie turned and ran wildly away, such a weight ou, and such a pain in his heart that it seemed as if he would die. "Mr. Wilson was coming along tho road, and near his Own gate when he saw Fred dy hurrying across from Mr. Hsrwood's cottage, his face white as a sheet and strongly agitated. "My son ! V\ hat ails you 1" ho cried, in alarm. " O father!" Tt was all Freddy could say, as ho stopped before him aud looked up with a strauge, sad, grieving expres sion on his countenance. " I don't believe it!" he cried, after a few moments, bursting into tears and hid ing his wet face in his father's hands.— " It's all a lie < 112 Mr. Harwood's !" " Don't believe what ?" asked Mr. Wilson, wondering at all this. " A lie of Mr. Harwoood's! What has that drunken wretch dared to say ?" His voice changed to an angry tone. •' I can't toll you, father. It would choke mo. But it's all a lie. Oh, I wish I hadn't said anything about it!— But 1 so miserable, and you came right on me." Mr. Wilson led Freddy withiu the gate to a seat under one of the trees. " Now, my son," he said, in a kind, firm voice, "tell mo just what Mr. Ilar wood said." Freddy then related all about tho druk ken man coming to the gate, and what had occurred there ; and all that lie saw and heard when ho went home with Jin), even to the warning words of Mr. Ilar wood. A* Freddy camo to this last part, Mr. Wilson tlirnod his face so far away that his son could not sec it; but Freddy felt his father's arm that was around him drawn more tightly. At least a minute passed iu -lead silence. Then Mr. Wil son laid his lips closely and with a long pressure on Freddy's forehead. (' 1 will talk with Mr. Ilarwood about this,"he said, .in subdued tones, as they arose and went toward the house. "Poor man ! he was nearly lost. But there is one more chance to save him." , And he was saved. Mr. Wilson went to sec him that very day. Their inter view was affecting to byth, aud good for both. The warning sentences had not come a moment too soon, and Mr. Wil son felt this so deeply that ho could not be angry With his poor friend. No one ever saw either of them at. the Black Horso after that; nor did they ever again permit tha cup of eonfusiou to come nigh their lips. WHITEWASHING FRUIT AND OR.NAMINTAI,, THESS- —An old farmer, in tho Gcrmaiituwn Tchorafh, saj»; The practice of coajing the bark of fruit and ornaineutal trees with white wash, is one taht cannot ho too freely deprecated. The obstruction of the pewpi rat iry organs aid orifices, whether effected by the application of whitewash or any other adhesive material, always acts as a fruitful source of disease, nod in time proves fatal t.i the tree. When the bark becomes rough, or incrusted with moss, it should be eleaned by scraping and washing down thoroughly with a solution of soft soap or soda water, affording smothness to the surface witout obitructioa to the pores. THE KENTUCKY MEMBERS, In reference to the Election Commit* tee of the credentials of the Kentucky representatives, the House acted with common sense. Mr. Bingham said that when a person offers credentials under ths great seal af a State he is entitled to admission uules a specific objection were made. Mr. Boutwell took substantially the same ground, and the House ordered the reference, except in the case of one representative who had served in the National army. Ot Mr James Brooks's eulogy of the loyalty of Kentuoky it is enough to say, that if every other State had been loyal in the same way the rebellion would have unquestionably succeeded. And it is for that reason especially that when any man presents himself as a representative from Kentucky, and objection is made upon the ground of disloyalty, there should be the most careful inquiry into the facts. There is indeed a presumption against the loyalty of every man who is elected by a great Democratio majority in Ken tucky ; aud the presuinptiou is based upon the fact that Kentucky contributed about as many of her voting class to the rebel army as to ours, and that the rebel sympathizers and soldiers were of the Democratic .party. Moreover, the gen eral character of the candidates chosen by that party at the last election is noto rious, They were not selected for fidelity to the Union. They were intentionally taken from among those who if not open rebels were acceptable to those who wore. It was in Kentucky as it is in Tennessee. Tho open, known, conspicuous, devoted friends of the Union, supporters of tho war aud Congress during and since the war, are upon one side; the opponents of the war, tho known rebels and their supporters, those who deny that slavery is abolished, and who openly honor tho rebel chiefs and scoff at President Lin coln, are upon the other side, and that tho Democratic. Facts in themselves unimportant like tho last become, taken with others, of the utmost significance. Congress would be lacking in the com mon setjpc which every capable man shows iu the conduct of his private affairs if in the present situation of the country it did not receive every representative from such a constituency with suspicion. If there were no objection urged from the State itself it would not bo indeed wise to act upon a presumption; but if there were distinct charges thov should be most rigorously examined.— Harper's It\chhy. MODERN DICTIONARY. Wate) —a clear fluid, once used as a drink. Honesty —an excellent joke. Rural Felicity —potatoes anil turnips. Tongue —a little horse that is contin ually running away. Dentist —one who finds work for his own teeth by taking out those of other people. My Dent —an expression used by man and wile at the commencement of a quan rel. Policeman —a man employed to sleep iu the opnn air. Bargain —a ludicrous transaction, in which either party thinks ho oheated the other. Docto i —a man who kills you to-day to save you from dying to morrow. Author—a dealer iu words, who often gets paid in his own coin. Friend —a person who will not assist you because he knows your love will cx.« cusc him. Eiri-law, King Leo pold of Belgium, who was, we imagine, the ono who originated tho iiiiporial oou-, spiracy against Mexico, had a certain feeling of what he doubtless con sidered honor, which compelled him-to remain true to the fortunes of those who had summoned hirn to Mexico until they were wholly ruined. Ruined they- now aro, and finally.— The young Austrian prin Co who, person* ally, seems to have been an amiable and mild man, has been put to death. The event, after tho many intercessions in his favor, was unexpected, but it is not snr-» prising ; and in his grave is buried the last attempt of any European Power to meddle with arms in the politics ot this continent. We say tho event is not sur prising. It could not havo been so to xMaximilian himself unless ho wore alto* gether less intelligent than hiß frionds represent him. It is impossible that ho should not have known that any man Who undertakes to lead a party in another country during a civil war, and who ds* pends for snccess upon tho arms of still another power, if his party is defeated, and if he falls into the hands of the vie tors, has less mercy to expect than a na tive leader might receive. But if, be sides being a foreigner, ho has ordered tho summary execution of his adversa ries taken in arms, his chances aro muoh less. And if the country in which ho tempts all tho risks is mexico, he has no right to expect that if he fights to the last against reason and against hope, be will escapo the doom which he has awarded to others. When, .therefore, Maximilian refused to withdraw with the French wo havo doubt that ho fully counted the cost and anticipated his fate. Yet, none the less do we regret it.—• However natural, however agreeable to preoedent such a punishment may J>o, it weakens a country to inflict it. Monkind discriminate, and, we think, justly, be tween the deliberato murder of one man, for inntanc?, and a battle in which many men are ki'Jed, with a general political intention, but without individual,malice, by those who take the risk of being killed in turn. So,also, it distinguishes, between Bachja foray as that of Fc-> niau.i into Canada, aud participation bv a foreigner in a civil war already engaged as it was in Mexico. Wo do not.think it would have been wUo to hang Jeffer 9on Davis ; and lor the same reason, if the English Prince Alfred fiad f/ccn elected the chief of the rebellion, and had beeu supported by French arms, and bad fallen into our victorious hands as Davis did, we should not havo advised his execution. Despicable obscurity Wmpts no man, but a death which seems heroiq and illustrious invests th'e act which caused it with immense attraction. The fate of Jeffeigon Davis will make no Americah a Rsbel; that of Robert Em? met has made thousands of Irishmen Fenians. The Republican au'horities of Mexico have judged differently, and their prob able reasons must not be forgotten.— They undoubtedly thought that if under any pretense whatever Maximilian es caped, the conclusion in Europe would have been, either that the Mexicans did not dare to harme a Prince, or that an other might be more fortunate. But to shoot an Austrian Archduke after a court* martial like the commonest deserter would be a result about which there could b« no sophistication. We must suppose also, that, among the ignorant and naif birbarous population of the country, there was a clamor for the Prince's execution which would have questioned the loyalty of the authorities had they used it. So the Prince was shot. He was only thirty-five years old, amiable, accomplish ed, and his wife insane from the horrors of his position. Yet, while we pity him, let us also pity his victims— pity tho other amiable and accomplished young men, who. but for him, would be living to-day. We will not judpe him harshly. He has paid the penalty of his offenses, whatever they were. But when Thiers or Jules Favres again arraign Louis Na poleon, what a thunder-bolt in their hands the fate of Maximilian will be 1 —Harper' « Weekly.