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Ooun y. Four good Promos, and a general variety of
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kind, enables us to do Job Printing at the shottat
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n want of 111118, Blanks, or anything in the Jobbing
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iud
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U. S. GOVERNMENT
President —ADRAITAII LINCOLN,
Vice Proshlont—lloNNlDAL HARLIN,
Boerentry of Ste to—Wst. H. &Attar',
Soorotory of Intorlor—Jso. P. thin En.
Secretory of Treasury—Wm. P. FEAdENDEN,
Secretary of War—MD.lam 51. STANToN,
Oocrotory of Navy-61DOON WELLEs,
Poet Nestor General—MONTtion Y BLAIR,
Attorney aeneral—linlVAlin BATES,
Uhler J notice of the United S otos—Rouen B TANEY'
STATE GOVERNMENT
overnor—ANDILISY G. Gonna.
Secretary of State—ELl SLIFER,
Surveyor General—Jaws .. DARR,
Auditor General—lSAAC SLENEER,
Attorney General—Mc :D. MEREDITH.
Adjutant General—A L. RUSSELL,
•
State Treasurer—Many D. Moons,
GhlefJustie of the Supreme Court—GEO. W. WOOD
WALD.
COUNTY OFFICURS
President Judge—Hon. James 11. Graham.
Axsociate Judges—Hon. Michael Conklin, Hen
Hugh Stuart.
District Attorney—J. W. D. ClSolon.
Prothonotary—Samuel Shiroman.
Clerk and Recorder—Ephraim Common,
Register—Cleo W. North.
High Shoriff—J. Thompson Itippey.
County Treasurer—HenryJ3. Hitter.
Coroner—David Smith.
County Commissioners—Michael Haat, Jqbn 2.1
Coy, Mitchell McClellan,
Superintendent of Poor Hogue—Henry Snyder.
Physician to Jail—Dr. W: W. Dale.
Physician to Poor House—Dr. W. W. Dale.
BOROUGH OFFICERS
Chief Burgess— Andrew B. Ziegler.
Assistant Burgess—ltobert Allison.
Ton'll Council—Eng Ward—J. D. Rhincheart,
Joshua I'. Disler, .1. W. D. Gillelen, George Wetzel
Wont Ward—Goo. I. Murrey, Thos Paxton, A. Cath
cart, Juo. B. Parker, .100. D. Oargas, President, o
Council, A. Cathcart, Clerk ' Jos. W. Ogllby.
High Constable Samuel Sipe. Ward Constable,
Andress Martin.
Aneassor- -John GI utohall. Assistant Assoesors,Jno
Moll, (too. S. liautem.
Auditor—Hobert D. Cameron
Tax Collector—Alfred ithlneboart. Ward Collor
torn—East Ward, Chas. A. Smith. West Ward, Tneo
Corutuan, Street Comiuiasiouer, Worley B. Ittatthowa
Justices of the Peace— A. L. Spinster, David Smith
Abrm. Dehuff, Michael Holcomb,
Lamp Llg;Cora—Chas. It. Muck, Jamas Spnoglar
CHURCHES
First Presbyterian Church, Northwest angle of Cen
tro Square. Rev. Conway P. Wing Paator.—Sery ces
every Sunday Morning at 11 o'clock, A. M., and 7
o'clock I'. M.
Second Presbyterian Church, corner of South Ilan
over and Ponifrot stroets. Rev. John C Miss, Pastor.
Services commence at 11 o'clock, A. M., and 7 o'c/ock
P.M.
St—John's Church, (Prot. Episcopal) northeast angle
of Centro Square. Rev. J C Clore, Rector. Services
at it o'clock A. M., and 6 o'clock: P M.
English Lutheran Church, Bedford, between Main
and Louther streets. Rev. J.t •ob Fry, Pastor. Ser
vices at 11 o'clock A. SI., and c'elock I'. M.
derunno Reformed Church. Lootig, between Ilan
ovor and Pitt streets. ltev. Samuel Philips, Pastor
Services at 11 o'clock A. M., and 0 o'clock 1' M.
Methodist M. Church (firxt charge) corner of Main
and Pitt Straeta. Rev. Thomas 11. Sherlock, Pastor.
SerYhros at 11 o'clock A. M., and 7 o'clock P. M.
Methodist E. Church (secoud charge,) Rev. S. L.
Bowman, P.lslor. ervices in Emory M E. Church al II
o'clock A. %1., and I'. M.
Oh ❑rrh it.l yon kVost rornor 'Of NVest atroot
and Chapel Alley. Key. 11. F 11., k, Ihestn
Patrick's Cathotio Church, Pomfret near Eastst
Rev face r. Services every other t_4alJ
Vvspvr, at 3 P. M
IMOIMIIIMi",1
(4urtnau 1.0 thoratt Church, corner of Pomfret and
Ilettiorol strocis. Rev C. Ft itt o, Castor. Sort Icon at
11 o'clock P. I.
wtpm ebonies in the above are necessary the
proper persona are req ue,ted to notify us.
!MEM
DICKINSON COLLECT'
11ev. Herman \l, Johnson, D. D., Prushl all and Pro
censor of Moral SHCIIC(I.
William C. IV daun, A. M., ItreCcencor of Natural
Science and Curator o' the ales/alum.
Rev. N% ditant L. Boa,' ell, A
O rook and LI ertnnu Len long.
gatuuul U. llllhuau, A. M., Prof° nor of Mathernat
ICs.
John K. Staym to, A. N., Professor of the Latin and
French Languages.
Hon. James ii. iirsharn, T.L. D , Professor of Law.
Rev. Henry C. Cheston, A. ■ . Principal of the
Grammar School.
John Hood, Assistant In the Crammer School.
BOARD OF SCHOOL DIRECTORS
James riamilton, President, H. &mien, P Quigley,
E. Coreman, C. P. Huinoricb. R. C. Woodward, Jason
W. Eby., Treasurer, John Silber, Messenger. Mont on
the Ist Monday of each Month at 8 o'clock A. M., at
Ednctitlon Hall.
CORPORATIONS
OVELIALE Dsvosrr RANlC.—President, It. M. Hender
son; W. M. Beetem Cash.J. P. Ilameder and C. D. Pfahler
Tellers, W. 51. Pfahlor. Clerk, Jno. Underwood Mes
senger. Directors, It. M. Henderson, ['resident, It. C.
Woodward, Stiles Woodburn, Moses Bricker, John
Zug, W. W. Dais, John D. Gorges, Joseph J. Logan,
Jun. Stuart, Jr.
FIRST NATIONAL BANK.—Prosldant, Samuel Hepburn
Cs.hler. Jos. C. Hoffer, Teller, Abner C. Brindle, Mee
manger, Jesse Brown. Wm. Ker, John Dunlap, ltich'd
Woods, John C. Dunlap, Isaac Brenneman, John S.
Sterrett, Stng. Hepburn, Directors.
OOKBRRLASID VALLIT RAILROAD CAPANT.—President,
Frederick Watts: Secretary and Treasurer, Edward
M. Biddle:, Superintendent, 0. N. Lull. Passenger
trains three times a day. Carlisle ACCOMMOOALIOII,
Eastward, leaves Carlisle 6.65 A. M., arriving at Car
lisle 5.20 P.M. Through trains Kaotward,lo.lo A, M.
and 2.42, P. M. Westward at 9.27, A. M., and 2.55 P.
M.
CARLISLE GAS AND WATER COMPANY.—President, Lem
uel Todd; Treasurer, A. L. Sponcler ; Superintendent
George Wise: Directors, F. Watts, Wm. M. Beetom,
B. M. Biddle, floury Saxton, IL C. Woodward, John
D. Bratton, F. Gardner, and John Campbell.
SOCIETIES
Cumberland Star Lodge No. 197, A. Y. M. moots at
Marlon Hall on tho 2nd and 4th Tuesdays of every
month..
St. Jolilea.Lodge No. 280 A. Y. M. Meets 3d There
day of eeeh month, at Marion flail.
Carliide Lodge No.ol T. 0. of 0. Y. Meets 'Monday
evening, at Trout's building.
FIRE COMPANIES
The Union Fire Company was organized In 1789.
House in Louther between Plltand Hanover.
The Cumberland Fire Cowper) , was instituted Fob.
18, 1800. !louse in Bedford, between Main end Pom
fret: .
The Good Will Fire Company was instituted In
Maui), 1855. Mule in Pomfret, near Hanover.
The EnspEre Rook and Ladder Company was institu
ted In MI lipase in Pitt, user Main.
—0
ItATES OF POSTAGE.
Postage on all letters of ono half ounce 'weight or
Under, a cents pre paid.
Postage on the HERALD within the County, free.
Within the State 13 cents per annum. To any part
of the United States, 20 cents Postage on all Iron
,Edeat papers, 2 cents per ounce. Advertised letters to
be charged with cost of advertising.
5,000 YARDS
Good Dark Calico Just Received
GREENFIELD & SIIEAFERA
'East Main Street, South Side.
2d Door,
, 91(1 Door,
Goad Dark Prints,
Better,'
Extra,' EoperExtra, do.,
• Vouched Muslips at 20, 25, 30, 35, end 40 cents,
Unbleached, from 20 to 40 cents.
Summer Pants stuffs, at last year's prices, having
purchased our stook of Summer Pants stuffs last Fall
we can and will soil them from 10 to 16 cents a yard
pheapor than any house fu town. Remembe U r the placo.
• GREENFIELD & SHPE:It,
Opposite 11. S, Ritter's.
AT TIIETATI,IS MANTILLA EM .,
PORIUM, No. 920 Chestnut St., Philadelphia.
OPEN—Parle.hiade ' '
DIAIsiTILLAS and CLOAKS.
Also SPRING and SU
I i
. and
GARMENTS "of our
own Manuftieture, of the
Attest Styles and n 'great
variety. , .
Jr W. PROCTOR & • CO.;
The Paris Mantilla Emporium,
• 920 CHESTNUT Street.
. PHILADELPHIA.
• .
'United States 5 percent 1040 Loan.
We are prdpgred to fuinish the' 10-40
United States Lean authorized by the net of
61are d, 1804 either ltogistered or Coupon Donde, as
parties may pray , in denotninationebf $6O, $lOO, 000,
1 (NO $6,000, and $lO,OOO. 41. .
The interest on the $6O, andll o
0, Demists, payable
Annually and'all other denominations semi-annually
in coin, The Bonds an bear date Metal let, 1884 and
Are redeemable.at the pleasure of the tif..
i ter 10 yeare'and payable 40 years from' date hi, coin,
trlitt intereet'at 5 pereont per MI pUITI..
•.' ' . ".. •-' • - W:II.IIBETEM, enabler. , '
. • Carlisln.Dersit Ditillil April 2,501 1804 ,ti• - • 1 ,
VOL. 64.
RHEEM & WEAICLEY , Editors & Proprietors
Peace In the clover-scented air,
And stars within the dome;
And underneath, In dim repose,
A plain, Now England home.
Within, a murmur of low tones
And sighs from hearts oppressed,
Merging In prayer, at last, that b.inge
The balm of silent rest.
rye closed a hard day's work, Marty,—
The evening chores are done;
And you are weary i vrith the house,
And with the lit e one.
And he Is sleepin sweetly now,
With all our pretty brood;
tilo come and alt upon my knee,
And It will do me good.
Oh, Marty I I must tell you all
The trouble In my heart,
And you must do the best you ran
To take and bear your part.
You'releeit the shadow on my fare,
You've felt it day and night;
For it has tilled our little home,
And banished all its light.
I did not mean It should be so,
And yet I mightjhave known
That hearts that live as close as ours
Can never keep their own.
But we are fallen on evil times,
And, do whate'er I may,
My heart grows sad about the War,
And sadder every day.
I think skint It when I work,
And when I try to rest,
And never more than when your head
Is pillowed on my breast ;
For then I one this camp-tires blase,
And sleeping mon around,
Who turn their (seen toward their homes,
And dresin upon the ground.
I think about the dear, brave boys,
My motto in other years,
Who pine for borne and those they love,
Till I am chokod with tears.
With shouts and tears they march sway
On glory's shining track,
But, ah ! how long, how long they stay!
How few of them come back!
And when I kneel and try to pray,
My thoughts are never free.
Bat cling to those who toil and light
And die fir you and mu.
And when I pray for victory,
It seeing almost a sin
To fold my handsand ask for what
I will not help to win. '
Oh! do not cling to mu and cry,
Fur it will break my heart ;
I'm sure you'd rather have me die
Than not to boar my part.
You think that some should stay at homo
To care for those away ;
But still I'm helpless to decide
111 should go or stay.
M., Professor of the
Five Renee in tho Lifo of ite Last Lady
The weather without is wet and wild;
chill, though summer has hardly gone by.
A great fire blitzes in the hearth of the Hall
drawing-room, and on either side sit Lady
Ann and her sister, Sir Lionel's wife. They
are both silently watching a boy who, stretch
ed on a leopard-skin rug full in the ruddy
blaze, is playing at being a wild beast, snarl
ing, showing his pretty tooth, pretending to
be a tiger who has fixed upon and is worry
ing the leopard. •
When Lady Ana's eyes quit the boy it is
to look towards the great window, outside
which the trees are rocking in the tempest,
black against a pale sky. When Sir Lio
nel's wife turns from him, it is to bend over
a lovely little baby-girl slekping on her
knees. Sir Lionel's wife is more beautiful
as a matron even than she was as a girl.—
She is dark and lovely ; dark, with that sort
of inwardly-alight clear darkness that one
is tempted to call fairer than fair; lovely,
with a gentle, unimpassioned, unimpassion
able loveliness, that is in some holily mys
tical way redeemed from any suspicion of
insipidity.
Lady Ana does not look beautiful or love
ly just now; in the firelight her face shows
haggard, almost fierce ; she brings her black
eyes bank from the window to fix them a
gain on the boy.
Presently his mother softly chides him for
2d Door.
18,3;'
the roughness of his, play, the loudness of
his ugly poises, - tolling him he will wake
andfrighten baby: • '
"Pend baby' away then-L-I must finish
killing this is his answer, and ho
goes on playing as before. Emma,sighs, and
watches him with' a slight sadness, a gentle
fear.and wonder clouding her sweet. brow ;
then she droop's, her oyes upon thelfuee of her
baby-girl, and bends, to touch that with her
Just then the'.l4,lo6lced up into, hie aunt
Ana's. facet she-ca11:4444 tol4
at, her knees; she presses her .hiridstipen
shOutderti;:and Welted into his face.: Erect
as a dirt he stands 'them, 4a*# back into
• .
. .
~
.- 1 h.....„ .
. • . .. I
: .
. .
, ; . •,. ' ilt , ar ,
,
.. , .
- i
•
...
~i ^y,lS~ JY:4 J 1 ~aS lY o
[From the Atlantic Nonthly.l
The Heart of the War
BY J. O. !TOLLAND
One sleeps beside the Tennessee,
And one bexide the Jamie,
And one fought on a gallant ship
And perished In Its flames.
And some, struck down by fell dispase,
Are breathing out their life ;
And others, maimed by cruel wounds,
Hare left th., deadly strife.
Ah, Marty! Marty! only think
Of all the boys hove done
And antlered in this weary war I
Bravo heroes, every one I
Oh! often, often In the night,
I hear their voices call :
"Como on and hoop us! Is It right
That we should boar It all I" •
For, Marty, all tho eoldlere love,
And all are loved again ;
Aud I annoyed, and love, porhapa,
No more than other man.
I cannot tall—l do not know—
Which way my duty ilea,
Or where the Lord would have mo build
My Ore or eacrlfice.
I feel—l know—l am not mean;
And though I eeom to boast,
I'm sure that I would give my life
To those who need it most.
Perhaps the Spirit will reveal
That which la fair and right;
So, Marty, let us humbly kneel
And pray t, heaven for light.
Peace In the clover-scented air,
And stars Within the dome;
And underneath, in dim repose,
A plain, New England home.
Within, a widow in her woods,
From whom all joy is flown,
Who kneels among her sleeping babes,
And weeps and prays alone I
Sionliatunto.
From Blackwood's Edinburg Magasins.
WITCH-HAMPTON HALL
(CONTINUED.)
CEEEME
the gazing eyes; his lips, too thin for a
child's mouth, aro at first still curled as they
were while he imitated a tiger's snarl; but
after a while they began to quiver ; ho could
bear that ,look no longer. Suddenly his
proud, unchildlike face flushed crimson, and
his eyes filled; ho broke away from those
detaining hands, rushed towards his mother,
hid himself behind her chair.
" Your boy is afraid of me, Emma," said
Lady Ann, with a smile that was no less
than ugly, but which Emma did not see, for
just then the boy burst into a howl of angry
distress, which he tried to stifle with his
mother's gown. The baby woke, began to
cry; nurse appeared, and would have car
ried off both the children, but that young
Lionel refused to go: He presently left off
crying, and threw himself upon his rug—not
to play again, but to watch his aunt Ana's
face, which scorned to have for him some
fascination full of fear.
" Can't you make him obey you, Emma ?
send him,away," Lady Ana said by and by,
shading 'ser eyes with her hand as she spoke,
but from under it still watching the boy.
"Go to the nursery, Lionel, and play
there. When papa comes home you shall
come down again." The mother spoke soft
ly and caressingly. The child paid no heed.
"Do as you are told—go directly," Ana com
manded. The boy coloured rebelliously, but
got up and went.
Emma, you will never make that child
obedient; you speak to him as if you were
afraid of him. That is not the way to rule
a boy like that," Lady Ana said, when the
door had closed,
"I know," sighed Sir Lioners wife—l am
afraid of hi in—afraid of making ldin naugh
ty, for then he is quite unmanageable. Ido
not understand him. I cannot get at the
good in him. Ido not manage him well : I
try so hard too—l am so afraid of not being
a good mother to him. lie is a noble-look
ing boy, but he is strangely incomprehen
sible. Ana, - she continued, in her low,
calm, monotonous, sweet voice, "do you see
any likeness in my boy to any one you have
over known ? There is a something that has
puzzled me for years in his face—it has just
now conic to me who it is that he at times
reminds me of. It is very straastei—Ro you
see any likeness in him to .
"You can hardly c xpect inc to have found
out in one day what it has taken you years
to discover," interrupted Lady Ana, and her
clear voice was so sharp that it started her
"The boy is like his father, it seems
to me." "
MEM
" Like his father? Dear Ana, how can
you think so? Surely, Ana, you have for
gotten my . Lionel, with his grand open
brow, , his tawny locks, his fearless eyes of
bright sea-grey. lie is so little like that I
am always sorry now that we called him
Lionel—little harry is much more like his
father. Surely, dear sister, you have forgot
ten my Lionel."
"I have not firgot ten your Lionel, Emma,
and still I think young Lion6l is like his fa..
ther."
Ana, 1,11 , re can you find any re
.emblanee ? I cannot eoneviv._t how "
"I do find it—both father and mother."
" You Foe no likeneEs, then, to any other
person?"
"I hold to what I have said : he is much
like his father—there is some resemblance to
his mother; beyond this I see nothing to re
mind me of any one."
" As to the likeness to the first, thank God
that you can think so—as to the likeness to
me, Lionel often says he is more like you.—
I trust that this is a mere fancy of mine ;
shall not mention it to Lionel—it !night pain
him, for he always had a bad opinion of the
man lam thinking of. How long since all
that seems. Perhaps you have almost for
gotten what a splendid rider he was ! Lionel
says our boy is a born horseman. You nev
er ride now, Ana, do you? I used to think
you could not live without it. What furi
ous gallops you would have on the down up
there 1 I remember so well how I used to sit
hero and shudder, and fancy all kinds of hor
rors, when it grew dark and you did not come
home. That happened so often the lust few
weeks I was at home here, before my mar
riage, you seemed so wild and restless—it
grieved one very much. I knew what it
meant, darling Ana: it was your way of hid
ing from me what pain it was to lose me.—
Wasn't it, love?"
" In part."
" And in part something else that 1 think
know, too. What a wild, negected, lonely
life we had when we were young ! Till
Lionel came back to England there was no
ono to control us or care for us,—no one with
more authority than dear old nurse. It was
very strange. Since I have been married,
Lionel - has told me what, perhaps, you knew
all along—how our father deserted us nobody
knows why, though some people said he was
mad with jealousy, and believed that our dead
mother had wronged him—how he went
away and died suddenly, before he had made
any provision for us beyond asking Lionel's
father not to lose sight of us altogether—and
Lionel's father died, and our mother had 'no
relations alive, and so we grew up with only
faithful old nurse to look after us: it was
very strange, and oh, how thankful I often
feel that wo came to no harm I If I had not
been so young and ignorant, and so used to
look up to you, I should have been more
frightened for you about that man. As it
it was, it was Lionel who taught rue to fear
for you; he always said that you were_ the
more in danger, having so little fear—that
the timidity which instinctively shrank from
danger was a woman's best armour, and that
this you had mot."
Lady AniFhad risen and come close-to her
sister. She bent over her and said--
4, As you love me, never talk to me again
of that past. As to that man, I'hate him so,
Emma, that sometimes I hate to live, fearing
that he -is still alive. Sometimes I hate all
the world, fearing that somewhere he is in it
Still."
Emma shrank away a little and turnec
very pale. " Hush, hush, hush, my poor sic
tor; you who love so ,much cannot hate.
Forgive me, darling ; I did not knbw you had
over really , eti'red for him--1 did not know--:
Ido not understand. What wrong did he do
you? Aid ho plaice you love him, and ihen .
did -he leave you, dearest? How was it?"
You, :wrong Ina too much,. Emma.
was not so: I 'toiler loVed him" . She* stood
ineet now and gazed into the fire; and as she
saw agairrihe:last. scene playtid. hetWeen her
. .
MEM
CARLISLE„ PA., FRIDAY, IAUGUST 19, 1864.
and that man, her 4 eyes !lashed fiercely. "Ho
grovelled at my feet," she said, "and I—l
struck him 1 That was how we parted. Em
ma, you have raised the devil, speaking of
those evil times. Ho is at, my feet again :
again I raise my hand : my whip is in it, and
I leave my mark—yes, I leave my mark."
" Ana, sister Ana," Emma had now wound
her sister in her arms. " Calm yourself, my
poor darling. Let love drive out the last
remnants of that old hate. You are no lon
ger alone and defenceless. You can never
more be driven to such self-defence. It is
terrible to think you should ever have known
such need ; but that can never be again.—
You must forgive, my darling. We must all
forgive, as we hope to be forgiven I"
" As we hope to be forgiven I" murmured
Lady Ana, and leant her cheek upon her sis
ter's hair. So they stood, wound in each
other's arms. Presently Lady Ana said, in
a strange, low voice—
" Would it grieve you much to lose that
boy ? You have the others, Harry and little
Ana, and the lovely baby-girl. Surely you
do not lover-that headstrong, unloving boy
as you do the otheri?"
"If I do not, may God forgive me l" said
Emma, fervently. "But do not call him
headstrong and unloving—he is not always
as you have seen him to-day. Indeed, he is
very good and generous sometimes. Oh,
Ana, why do you say I do not love him as I
do the others ? I trust I do—oh ! I trust I
do—my first-born, whom I loved so much
when he was a baby, that I nearly died of
fear that I should loite him. Surely, Ana,
you have not forgotten that. And God
spared him, and you think I do not love him?
Oh, Ana, what have I done—what have you
seen—that you should think so?•'
"Nothing."
"Something there must have beeu—some
thing that I have done, or neglected to do.
Tell me what, darling Ana; pray 'ell me:"
Just then there was a noise of wseels,
barking of clogs. The sisters started ay rt—
Lady Ana to ring for lights and to ordkr the
tea to be served, Sir Lionel's wife to htuten
to the Hall to meet her husband.
The great drawing-room was lighted m,
and the crimson driiiiery drawn before
window, when Sir Lionel entered it, Emma
hanging fondly on his arm. In the middle
of the room his hostess met him. The light
of a shaded lamp fell on the glorious crown
ed head arid on tile fair oval cheek: she wel
comed him with a sweet bright smile, and AS
she stood before him thus, she was most soft
ly.beautiful. He looked into her face with
a Penetrating glance as he thanked her for
her welcome, callibg her "my own dear
sister." She met the glance with fearless
gladness, and he stooped and kissed her.
Then they both remembered what hind pass
ed on the night when they had last met there
—that night on which Lady Ana had made
her passionate confession. But Sir Lionel
more of their only meeting since,
their meeting at hi 4 house, and sa,d—
-,• We have not (net since that sad night
when you came like an angel of light and
mercy. into my sail household, and, under
Cud's blessing., saved me my dear ones,"—
She turned frtun him suddenly: he said no
more about the past.
When may we hope to see your hus
band?" he asked, by-and-bye.
" Oh, very soon; perhaps to-morrow," she
answered, radiantly. Life is very weary
when he is away. I grow wicked when he
is away," she added, with a look at Emma.
Kissing her sister, as she lingered in her
room, before they parted for the night, Lady
Ana said—
" You have often told me that you longed
for the time to come when I would know and
love your husband. The time is come; I dare
love your husband now, Emma dear: now
that 1 so utterly, so absolutely, love my own.
For the years to come we will be much toge
ther—at least I trust it may be so, sweet
one.''
"Was it true then, Ana? Oh, Ana, was
it true what I sometimes feared ?" murmured
Sir Lionel's wife.
"It was. I loved your Lionel even as you
loved him. I do not mind your knowing
this now. lam not ashamed of having loved
him ; though I am sorry—l would rather my
husband had hatpin my love always:" Over
these words the gentle Lady Emma pondered
when she was alone. She blessed her sister
in her heart, and praised her as most noble,
generous, and devoted—:eould hardly grieve
ovor her past pain, knowing her so happy
CM
"So happy!" Then came a momentary
doubt of the completeness of this happiness—
a painful recollection of fierce looks, wild
words, such as was difficult to reconcile with
love and happiness. Sir Lionel'swife deter
mined that never again would she trouble the
peace of her sister's present happiness by
raising that spectre of the past—the remem
brance of wrong and insult, and of revenge=
ful passion and hate.
"A little while, and she will forgetit all,"
she murmured ; "she has notlovod long yet.
A little while, and she will forget how to
hate."
Lady Ana, alone in hor own chamber,
that same night writes alove-letter most pas
sionately tender to her husband. Then she
roads and re-reads his last letter, kisses it
many times, lays it in her bosom, sits hold
ing it there, pressing it there, gazing into
the fire. Tears of love and happiness fill
and overfill her eyes and run unheeded down
her cheeks. •
How vary fair she looks—how tender,
sweet,. and young, While the happy untroub
led love-dream lasts I But there comes a
gradual change—trouble and fear steal over
the ftuuS. "Oh, my love, my love, my love!"
She cried; "woo is me that yint ever loved ,
me I If, a few months, ago, .I had known
what is such love as yours—if, a fowmonths
ago, I had loved ypuds I love you slow, I
had never, limier, never let you call the thing
lam your own. How dared I ? How dared
? If I had known one-half your goodness;
I had not dared ! I thouglit
goo d and fan: in love; but how can I, being
false to you. who are so true? For years
have borne my . hellish secret, and not known
how it poisoned all my Fory_ears I
have borne it for my own.lalm, and now I
.must bear On. arid 'on tor over—for yours,
There is no way'in whiCh I do:noti
you—keeping:silenti,l7rong you, and, With
.all my life, ,to you;, speaking, I' should
kill ion. There fs no way, in which I do, noti
wrong you, • ~: L -.:• •, ..t
She wrung her hands together—the letter
dropped from her bosom. "Yes," she said,
"even the senseless paper knows that what
his hand has rested on my bosom is not
worthy to hold."
" When yki have learned to value honor
and love life then remember me."
It was aim star if these words were spoken
in her ear rAe looked slowly round, chill
after chill Awning through her blood.
"_Yes, Yolir time is come," she said. "You
can strike mm now through one I love, and I
shall feel itifthrough one that makes honor
dear and liie-sweet. But, oh God, merciful
God, you 341 . 1 hot suffer it I For his
.sake—
my husbandis, who is in truth your servant,
pure and nthetlled—you will not suffer the
triumph of tte wicked."
She threw?mrself on her knees and broke
into most iMisionat94 treaty for any punish
ment that 13 could bear alone.
Did yo call me, my lady?" asked the
old nurse,rlused from 'her sleep by her mis
tress's sobs ind cries. She came in just as
Lady Ana ziose from her knees.
"No, turf3e ; but since you are hero, stay
with one. .*e, put this great shawl round
you, and I.t with me a little—you will not
be cold s . To-night, of all nights in the
year, it is ilradful for me to be alone."
" To-nigh ?"—oh, ay I To-night, just
sevenyeattitgo, young master was born !
They keepis birth-day just one week too
late, as we ?now my pretty." •
" Nurse rwhat do the servants say about
him?"
" Not much good—they call him an evil
natured clad, and I've heard them say how
that they cfn't Understand that such a child
should bel9g to their master told mistress.
But Inaybdie's only a hit high-spirited and
haughty=tO harm in him. Anyway he's a
noble boy b look at
"Itwas an evil gift I gave my sister—an
evil gift! md,, oh I I fear it will bring her
sorrow andtrouble, nurse. But, nurse, sure
ly he will ii•ow good; surely they will make
him good.'
" Perhag they ;nay, my lamb. Don't yon
fret for tlit. 'rouble must come into all
lives; if hey have trouble with this boy,
mayhap »me other trouble 'ull be spared
them. Aryways, you did it for the best, end
out of no4ht but love and kindness."
" But itwas wicked nurse ! Oh, nurse!
if von lid let me die before that boy. was
bob Ifls terrible to live a life like mine,
harLing al 1 love and all who love me."
" bt mister, my lady ; not your husband.
my prtfy; Aren't you the joy and light of
his lire i No harm dono while he does not
know.''
"All iglu done nurse. He has a fake
and wie (4 Avice, and we let him think he
has a pure mu true one ! And who can tell
nurse, how so,, he may 3 have to know-?"
lt's4.' , i B lin\ likely he need ever know,
the girttOtng d 44, poor thing. who mirsed
y ou ng nAter ; an\ she never out of my sight
after sh,t Sine into f, Trust me to guard
ygur my itmb! The old woman
Who nar4d Lady Emma being dead too,
and slteit . ir to me, just before she died,
that shlifid never breathed a word to any
living reanre. Not that she suspected oth
er thanhaiyou had bribed that girl to give
up herbal)! that you might pass it off' for
the del child, and so save your sister."
" lithe man himself, nurse ! Oh, nurse!
he'll •it.her forgot nor yet forgive. Iris
wordg,When you have learnt to value hon
our alto love life, remember me,' will not
out 4y head to-night. Oh, nurse ! if only
you hi let me die ; or, nurse, if you had
been le! Dear murse, you did it for the
best . , ;now,"
" Id, my lady ; and I take it not kind
that ylkeep casting in my face now how I
lied fOou, holding my very soul cheap for
you! Anse words, keeping in your head as
you say do, is a sign, maybe, that he's
soon tof f , I've heard of such death signs.
Since yl so set on truth, my lady, I have
aomelon my mind I had sooner tell.—
Anywa 's safer that you should know,
perhaps.,
"Aboldrn r asked Lady Ana, at once
urning It o an d sici,
" Abotim, Two evenings ago, just at
dusk, -soOng made me take a fancy
(knowing , ,t the mother was coming here,
perhaps) to and see how the place looked
where I paady Emma's baby. It was in
the thick o:13 wood, you mind, my pretty.
I couldn't , d the place at first, for the
moss-stone \ the mark on it is choked over
witbAhe de leaves that have fallen and
fallen these,years that it is since we set it
there. AVIO was stirring about among
the leaves, ni a tree that looked like the
tree, I thoui heard a rustling near me;
so clown 1 sa pretendedl had been look
ing fin. brelsts. I cracked some, and
r,)
made a shot eating the kernels, all the
while listen' but nut looking round. 1
heard noihi re, and by-and-by I got up
and moved ,but, after a bit, I doubled
back, and th saw a man groping about
where I bade d the leaves, digging among
them with hi tds."
‘• Ah, hea
~I t was—
shuddered Lady Ana—
e is here—near me—oh
God !
" Hush, h hush, my pretty ! Hear,
the rest. Th. nothing much to fright
ye. I tried, a , ed, and peered and peered,
but I couldnake out his face, it was
growing so 4 . but to-night I went a
prowling abou l e same hour—l met him,
and-I mocked finely ! I mocked him
finely 1," Omsk/ - e old nurse. "I mocked
him Ilnely—Ma' I think you're' dead."
~ Quick, mini ck, quick, lot me hear
all, at cipta — i f 4 .-is--still—near—me,"
Lady Alia gasped then she fell back in
her chair and fait
Bitterly chiding' f now for the mo
mentary anger an", . lila had made hey
rough and tintenderl3 he bluntness of her
old' Bonses . t4t 'did:
3 / 4 ;
eh her what her
darling initst suffer • lavished nil her
cares upon her frithr l• by-and-by re
'Sated for : then 0101 her to her bed—
t'ihe WOuld.,havo /19r 1 Ari there, - while
she sat by her- to - flifislffbry.
- ' " Yes; I inocked hi y as you shall
bear. lie didn't known
m k e belied never
Seen Me ;. or if he had, , i woman's like
exiotigli to another in . a . mews- fancy;
but I: . knew his handso „ T i m well on _
otigh,,. ', when I came m ini . h o , *gB
iiaboug upon the Mu, . , taiebig - pino
giirWS-4rool there lie co ititotho greit
• dniviing - r 65111 ... Bii . 1-4 - Al just iirttiin
0
P : ' ' : •
lIMME
g
Tll l ll
„
the curtains to look upon the night—"
"And did I not feel his nearness, and
creep and shudder to the morrow of my
bones!
"As luck would have it, or a merciful
Providence—"
" Alas, nurse! not for me."
" Put it as you will, only you were not
there—not in the room, my Indy. You were
just gone up to your chamber. The children
were all once down to bid Sir Lionel good
night. I looked over that fiend's shoulder,
creeping up the back of the hillock—l got
behind him, and stood nigher the top than he.
Now fear he would hear me—for the wind
made the noise of wind and the sea together
shrieking in the tree about our heads—so I
looked over his shoulder, and saw what he
saw. They were all there, as I said, and the
firelight shining full - on them. Sir Lionel
had a boy and a girl climbing about him—his
lady had the baby on her lap, and right in
the midst, standing on the rug, was young
master—and you not there !—as luck or
Providence would have it, you not there,"
chuckled the old woman.
"Oh, nurse, go on," groaned her auditor.
"Is he near me still ?"
" No, no, not he, But listen. Cries I
close into his ear, 'A fine sight, sir 'ain't it?"
Saysle, turning upon me at once fierce
and frightened, it seemed to me, 'Who the
devil are you, you old hag ?"
"Says wouldn't hurt you to keep a
civiller tongue. I'm a poor old nurse-body
for the village above there, with the breath
well nigh blown out of rue, and hill to climb
this wild night.' For reason of the wind, I
still shrieked right into his ear.
" Answers he, quite civil—'A tine sight,
as you say—and who may those people be?
And who does this grand place belong to ?
I'm a stranger travelling this way by chance.
Could I see the house, do you think, old
mother I—not to night, of course, but it' I
come again to-morrow.' (All the while I
knew by the look of him that he wouldn't
dare come again in daylight.)
"Says I—'No, surely! and where's the
manners of you to ask it ? Cant you see as
the family is here?'
"'?'hen he—. And who ,re "the family ?"
"Then T—'Arent you a looking- at them
There's the roaster and there's the young
master (just striking his sister), and there's
the sister and another boy to be the heir if
the elder should die ; and there's the lady,
mistress, and the last baby on her knees."
" Then he—'Of course I can see all that as
well as you, you old fool !' (only the com
pliment spoken as he thought I shoulnd't
hear ); 'hut NS but is the ramie of the fellow
you call the toaster ?'
"Then don't call any fellow master:
but the master; is culled Sir Lionel. His
other name is Wintenhouse, ttc something
like that."
Then lie---•)low comes he to he the mas
er I mean, has the house been his long?'
'Thin I---• About set en year, I'm think
ing. It come to him through his wife, I've
heard, and was in her family. But I don't
know.everything. I haven't lived my life in
these parts.'
" Then he- -and I rancicd he turned whiter
—'ls Sir Lionel'., wife the ttnly surviving
member of the family then ? I meant, he ad
ded, as if I didn't know the sense of his big
words, 'are all the rest dead ?'
" Then I —•So it seems.'
"Then he—•lladn't Sir Lionel's wife any
brother or sister I'
" Then I—' I've heard tell that there was
a sister. But I'm not going to let out all I
know of a good family to any stranger I
meet. That's not what we poor old nurse
bodies call honor."
"Then he—slipping a bit of gold into my
hand—' There was a sister you say—she is
dead then ?'
"Then T—' If all's true they tell, it's no
pity, poor sinner I'
" Then he—• You know more than another,
I fancy. You nursed her in her—in her last
illness, perhaps ? ' (He didn't speak steady.)
" Then Last illness I poor soul ! It
was a short and sharp one—no time for nur
sing, and no need. '
"Then he, quite fierce and griping my
arm—'Tell me all you knew, old woman !
how and when she died, and if she killed her
child?
"Then I, as fierce as he—. 'Who said she
had a child? you spy, you impostor, you!
You are the villain, are you ? You arc the
wretch of a murderer come back to see the
graves of your victims ! '
" Then 110—'1, old idiot ? Take care, or
I'll insure your silence. Where are those
graves you speak of?—not in the church-'
yard !'
"Then I—"fhere's more bodies than lie
in churchyard, as there's more murderers
than come to the gallows ! '
" Then he, passionately—' She ,was not
murdered 1 '
" Then I—' You know that well enough ;
knowing that if she had been it would have
been you as done it, and none other ! Sweet
lamb ! there wasn't another, man or devil,
would have done it I '
"Then he, in a rage- 1- Woman, speak!
What did become of her and the child ? ?
"Then I, making believe to be very con
ning—' Look at young master there. He's
just the age, and he's no lamb like his bro
ther and sister.'
" Then he, quite pleasant-like, and without
looking where I pointed—' I see you are no
fool, I kilow you now, old friend ; no hope
of throwing me oil' the scent like that. Last,
night I had the pleasure of watching you Its
you searched for something in the wood.—
What you did not find I did—a little grave,
a baby's. But where does she lie—the mo
ther? '
"Then Not them as dies a natural
death.'
" Therthe, as if talking to himaelf-' 7 , Dead,
that beautiful wild creaturet rind by
her own hand 1 I could be sorry ifif it
we're not for this' !He touched his forehead
with a finger; butit Was too dark' for me to
see if there were any mark there.
1.1.....Wh0 said she:killed.herself ?
You villain, you I won't. you even.leavo her
memory alone, but'You Must blackentthtit?'
With this I 'Moved away, knowing ho }bold
follow me. I,Was in mortal terror that you
Would , obme down, andthey not having drop
Ted the curtain
Tbon:he,-4 not stopping or giving hif#
chance to'speak till the house was:hidrien
TERMS:--$2,00 in Advance, or 82,50 within the year
r
from us by the trees, and we stood at that
gate where you thought he'd have been kill
ed the last night you saw him, when his
horse ran away—as for sure he must have
been if the gate hadn't been set open for Sir
Lionel's carriage. You remember how you
made me go down 'with you to look before
you'd go to bed that night ? '
" Yes, yes, nurse.• Go on."
"'rhea he, as we stood by that
,gate—
'rhank you for your last words, old woman;
her men - tory—something may be made of
that.'
"Ho leant upon the gate, hindering me
from passing through, and seemed to think.
I watched him. Ah, if he'd stood by the
brink of the river with that evil face, and I
as nigh him as I stood then, ill it would have
fared with him if ho hadn)t, been able to
swim. Old woman as I am, I'd have found
strength to push him in;"
" Hush, hush, hush, nurse:" broke in La
dy Ana. " Have pity on me : the sin of all
your evil thoughts is mine; have pity."
" Listen I hear what he said next, with a
sneer—' Sir Lionel was fond of his wife's sis
ter—is fond of his wife— the family honor
will be dear to him. He shall pay for it
though she's dead.'
" Villain as he is, that word dead seemed
to hurt him—' Dead,' says he again,: dead
—and that blow ?—it was only a girl's blow.
Pshaw I I would forgive her, if I could af
ford it; but I cannot.'
"Then I— It's likely Sir Lionel will be
lieve any story von may trump up against a
dead girl ! a girl he and his wife almost wor
ship, not knowing.'
' Then he It's not likely. unless I have
proof.'
"Then I And ()lore's no .me body in
the world but me call give it you.'
" Then he (scowling at me Hose under my
bonnet)—' And you—you wait to know how
much I ion going to offer you"
Then Maybe ay, maybe nay. I'm
but - poor, and I'm old and past work, and
yet love life like another. But I've my feel
ings, too, like amither: and it's not for a lit
tle I'd disturb that dead girl's rest.
"Then he the present I'll disap
point you. Just now I'm pressed for time' .
(here he gltineed round him as he had done
often before). If at some future period I
want you, how shall I ask after you ? what,
name do you go by ?'
•• Then I—• In the village up there they
know me as 3.1. th Or GrildeS. I'll serve
_you
as you serve me, my fine gentleman-'-'
•• Then lin— 'Old hag ! I understand you.'
Then he muttered again Dead ! dead !
Well, I'd rather let her dust rest in such
peace and honor as it may—l will, if not
driven to extremes !' With a 'good-evening,
old mother,' he moved away. But he came
back and said—' If you breathe a word any
wliere about hexing seen me, not forgot
you the next dark night we meet !
•• _My Ilmb. nut much to Peer from
him while he believes you're dead The
devil is not all bllck, they sa.} ."
" But, nurse, you forget. One question
a kcrl in either or the villages will show him
how you have deceived !Um - end then his
ME
Weuldn t he have qUestioned first rather
than last, if he'd meant to question at all ?
He ad a hunted, harried look. He'll not
stop to question for fear his turn should come
to answer. He's not much altered, and he
was too well known in those parts. He'll
not show by daylight. There was old Tam
ling, the blacksmith, at Witch-hampton, and
Ned Bury, the carrier, up at Chine-dandon,
both swore years ago, to serve him out, if
ever they had the chance, and he knows it.
He'll not stay anywhere in these parts, or
show in them by daylight. He wholly be
lieves you're dead, and 'ull be off far enough
by this. He's one as makes any place he's
known in too hot to hold him again in a
hurry."
" Nurse, dear nurse, no more of him. It
makes my very soul sick. But, nurse, lam
sorry that I ever struck him ; I could almost
—but, no, no, no."
To keep silence, on and on, forever—is
that not the only punishment I can now bear
alone? Is it not heavy, heavy—will it not
grow ever heavier'
So groaned Lady A tut when old nurse,
believing that at last her mistress slept, had
gone back to her own bed, _and left her
alone.
POVERTY 'a FA LSE PRI DE.--.V religious
contemporary says, very justly: The idea
of respectable employment' is the rock upon
which thousands split and shipwreck them
selves and all who depend on them. All
employments are respectable that bring hon
est gain. The laborer, who is willing to turn
his hands to anything, is as respectable as
the clerk or dapper store-tender. Indeed the
man eiho is ready to ork whenever work
offers, whatever it may be, rather than lie
idle and bog, is a far more respectable man
than one who turns up his nose at hard labor,
wearies his friends with his complaints be
cause ho can get nothing respectable to do,
pockets their benefactions without thankful
ness,. and goes on from day to day a useless,
lazy grumbler."
geirWise men and sensible women, when
it is possible, wear woollen clothing, not only
for underclothes, but for their outer garments.
Light flannels are most conducive to health
of any articles which gentlemen use for sum
mer wear. Thin linen clothing worn in warm
weather is conducive of pulmonary consump
tion, and many a lady, if she only knew it,
; could tittributo the cause of her illness to thin,
light dress and the exposure of her arms and
bosom. Lord Nelson Would not go to sea
once because his men had been provided with
flannel„shirts. inehes too short. Ho had
longd&VeNtibstituted, and the result was,
that While tho rest of the fleet was deeimine
ted by.sickuess, he . did not lose a man.
roar Farmers who make the most rapid.
improvement in husbandry, are likoly . tO he
those who read most 'on .tho subjeet,eftheti
vocation. For the Mart: Who.reads. little, rte
matter what his vocation is,' vill ho Nicety to
think little, and act withyefereneetto tradi
tion received froM foifner generations, or
!else in imitation of what is going 'on about
him. There . is always hope.of atinai who
loves reading,
,study and reflection. •
1 • •
W.-That tuust .have been kvery tough
toostor that erowed, , after being , hoil4 .tlyo
'hOurs, and then, being put in pOt*ith 'l)n.
.tittoos, kicked' them all out.
THE SONG OF THE PEOPLE
•
flare you, heard the glad ahoht that to beine eu the
breeze ;
That delta frotalho mountalue and sWeliate the
SeaEt;
The voice of the Men that for liberty. stand ;
Tho shout ofa aimed and purified land
In the hills of Now llampshlro Its chorus began
To the far bldorado its harmonics ran ;
The shores of two oceans Its echoes prolong,
O'er all the broad continent tossing the song,
"To the Man of the People, the Man of the Hour!
To whom was the labor, be granted the power I
Our voice Is for Lincoln, the true and the tried;
Lot aore-heads and Copperheads both stand aside!
NO. 34.
"The way of tho:sore-head transgressor Is hard—
Mad, hungry and dosperato corporal's guard;
With t heir penniless CI - testis, and stay-at-homo Mars i
Who lost all their light whoa they gave up their
stars.
"Crf the Copperhead faction we won't say a word;
A subject so dead should be careallly stirred,
O'er the used-up cabal wall forgivingly tread,
And leave the dead t,aitors to bury their dead.
"Hurrah, thon, for Lincoln, tho fearless and trued
We'll stick by the captain that sticks by his drew,
He'll not fall Ina cairn, who the tempest hue briyied;
And Lincoln shall rulo o'er the land ho has saved.'
THE OLDEST IRON SHIP.
We find this statement in the .London'
Engineer :
"The Richard Cobden, said to be the old
est iron ship afloat, has entered the Bruns
wick graving dock, for the purpose of hav
ing her bottom cleaned and painted. She is
now twenty years old, and has made twenty
successful voyages to the East Indies; not
withstanding some rough usage, she has
never made a drop of water, and her plates
are apparently as sound as ever. On ono
occasion she took an entire cargo of iron
from London to the East ; while on her first
voyage she ran aground and flattened her
bottom to the extent of three inches on ono
side of the keel. She commands the high
est freights in Bombay, and her owners are
so satisfied with her seaworthiness that they
do not effect any insurance upon her; The
cost of her repairs hitherto has been merely
nominal. Messrs. Dalby & Co., the princi
pal owners of the Coalbrookdale Iron Works,
gave the order for her construction twenty
one years ago, to Messrs. J. Hoclgson•& Co.,
of Liverpool, for the purpose of testing the
capabilities of iron as a shipbuilding mate
rial. The result is evident, and while the
Richard Cobden is still as serviceable as ev
er, there are now no less than 76,000 tons of
iron shipping in Liverpool alone."
MUSIC AT HOME. -No family can afford
to do without music. It is a luxury and an
economy; an alleviator of sorrow, and a
epring of enjoyment; a protection against
vice, and an incitement to virtue. When
rightly used, its effects, physical, intellectual
and moral, arc good, very good, and only
good.
Make home attractive ; music affords a
means of doing this. Cultivate kindly feel
ing, love. Music will help in this work.—
Keep out angry feeling. "Music bath charms
to soothe the savage breast. Be economical.
Pleasure, recreation, all must have, and no
pleasure costs less in proportion to its worth
than home music. Make `•our sons and
daughters accomplished. - What accomplish
ment is more valuable than music ? Fit all
your daughters to support themselves in the
future, if need be. There has been no time
in many years when any young lady having
sufficient knowledge to teach music could not
pleasantly earn a respectable support in that
way. " But, some may say, " I have no
ear for music, nor have any of my family."
Probably not one of you ever tried it faith
fully. Perhaps your sons had no natural
"car" for reading, or your daughter no na
tural hands for writing; and certainly un
less they have learned these things, they
would neverhave been accomplished in them.
Music does, indeed, come more natural to
most people than many other accomplish
ments that are next to universal ; yet it does
not come to all without much time spent in
careful cultivation.
The one best means of introducing unisk
to a family, and ensuring its cultivation, is
to procure a good musical instrument. If
no one of your daughters or eons can play at
all, yet if they have a good instrument at
hand some of them will learn. In almost
every family this will be the case, Buy an
instrument and try the experiment ; if it
succeeds only to a very small extent, the cost
will be repaid many fold.
A Fu REMARKS BY JOSH BILL/NOS:
have offen bin tole that the best is to take a
bull by the horns, but I think in many in
stances I should prefer the tail hold.
I never kud see enny good in naming
wooden gods mail and fomail.
Tha tell me femails are so scarce in tho
far west, that a grate menny marred wim
min are already engaged to thare second and
third husbands.
Josh says:
That John Brown has halted his march a
fu days for refreshments.
That most men would ruthor say a smart
thing than dew a good one.
That backsding is a big thin,g eshpeshsila
Cial3l3
That there is two things in this life for
which we are neer fully prepared, and that
ie twins
That yu kant judge a man by his religgun
envy more than yu kan judge his shunt by
tha size ov the kollar and ristbands.
That the devil is always prepared tow see
kompany.
That it iz treating a man like a dog to cut
him oph short in hiz narrative.
That "ignorance is bliss," ignorance of
sawin wood for instance.
That 'nanny will falo to be saved simply
bekatize they haint got ennything to
That the virtues of woman are all her ov,;n
but, her frailties have been taut her.
That dry pastor are the best for flocks—
flocks ov sheep.
That men of genius are like eagles thaliv
on what tha kill, while mon ov talents aro
like crows tha liv on what has bon killed
for them.
That some people are fond ov bragging
ov ancestors and their grate decent, when
in fack their grate decent iz just what's the
matter with them.
That a woman kant keep a secret. nor lot
anybody else keep ono.
That 'a little laming is a dangerous thing.'
This iz as true as it is common; the littler„
the more dangersome.
That it iz better teW fail in a noble en ,•
terprizo thart_tew suckseod in a moan one i
That a grate menny folka have been odi
catcd oph from.their foeC '
That luv. Woman's liarto is - a good
deal like a bird in a cage; open the door and
the bird will fly out and never waists tew
catiee back, again. „
That Sokertary .Chase is e;iiileritty failing,
the time Of 'his last beat being.lo , =:4o;
N. 13.—Iielias failed!
,laEg; The exports .from• New York.last
week, exclusiv,e of specie, Wore -$8,230,612.
The figures for the pretious week were . oqttal , .
ly as.large, thuS making over sixteen xhil4
hops for -the fortnight, Imports, : ‘in ~the
meantime, ail), snialkand(the latter promise
to continue so 'lot '.some time 'come,: 'At
this rate we Shall . " seen hairs) `_coming
back from. Europe. 'Exchange is already at
alpaint tliat . vendets - shipilients of - cobs un...
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