(The 31otfh lirvimh Democrat. T T A.H.VEY SIOKIiBR, Proprietor.] NEW SERIES, forth Bnntfli pniurrrai u A ireckly Democratic {>rcr. devoted to Pol- . v ^ffl tie?, News, the Arts * listed every Wednes- ||Sp day, at TunkhaHnook, , Wyoming County, Pa. *-/ \ - 'ftajf BY HARVEY SICKLER. * Terms-—1 eopv 1 year, (in advance) 51.50. If no t pain within ?i.x months, 82.00 will be charged. advetitising. 10 lines off i 1 1 I . I less, mike three ]f ur tiro .three, six ] one tne'square week-,'weeks nio'th mo'th mo 1 year 2 do 200 2.50, 3,25 3.50; 4,50 •j ,i„ 300 3.75 4,75 5.50; 7,00 ; 0,00 4 Column. 4. 0il 4.50 6.50 8,00 10,00; 15,00 4 do 600 7,00:10,00 12.00 17.00 25,00 i do p'lH) 0,50 14,0" 18,00 25,00 35,00 1 do. lU,UU 12,00: 17,00 22.00,'23,00 40,00 Business Cards of one square, with paper, S3. jon wonii of all kinds neatly executed, and at prices to suit fbe times. Bii.sinrs's pottos. rIACON STAND.—Nicholson, la. C. L ) JACKSON, Proprietor. [vln49tf ] USTCOOPER, PHYSICIAN .t SURGEON . Newton Centre, I.uzcrne County Pa. p RO. S. TUTTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW, JT Tuukhnnnock, Pa. Office in Stark's Biick flleek. Tioga street. tTT >l. M. PIATT, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Of- Y fice iu Stark'. Brick Block, Tioga St., Tuuk lanneck. Pa. 1 ITTI.E .v IHAVITT, ATTORNEY'S AT la LAW, Office on Tioga street, Tunkhannoek, ?a. R. K. I.ITTI.F. J. T>K WITT. T V. SMITH, M. 0. PHYSICIAN A SURGEON, J • Oflic-e on Bridire Street, next door to the Demo ir.it Office, Tunkhannoek, Pa. TARA F.Y !<'KI.EK, ATTORNEY AT LAW 1 and GENERAL INSURANCE AGENT - Of i a. Bridge street, opposite Wall's Hotel, Tunkhan lo k I'a. r. W. IlIXOgklDSi, TJL. 3D., Graduate of the University of Penn'a.) r.egnoctfully oTers his professional services to the iti/.ens of' Tunkhannoek and vicinity, lie can he nuni. when not professionally engaged, either at his .•rug Store, or at his residence oil Putnam Street. NR. J. I . UORSELIUS, HAVING LOCAT _y El) A'l 111 E FALLS, WILL promptly attend all cults in tiio line of tiis profession—may lie found it lieeinerV Hotel, v.acn not professionally absent. • Falls, Oct. 10, 1961. OR~ 1. YOMING CO., 1A. PHI? establishment has recently been refitted and I. furnished in tho latest stylo Every attention 'ill be given to the comfort and convenience of those bo patronize the Hou=e. T. B. \l ALL, Owner and Proprietor. Tunkhannoek, September 11. 1961. mmi sbanch hotel. MKSHOPPEN, WYOMING COUNTY, PA ULEY WARNER, Prop'r. IAA TNG resumed the proprietorship of the above Hotel, the undersigned will spare no effort to "dcr the house an agreeable place of sojourn for lii who may favor it with their custom. RILEY WARNER. September 11, 15G1. MAYNARD'S HOTEL, wY 0M ING C(MJ NT Y ,SIENNA. 4t)II N MA Y N AKI) , Proprietor. J AVING taken the Hotel, n the Borough of •t 1 uiikhanneek. recently oceypied by Riley arner, the proprietor respectfully solicits a share ot '"he patronage. The House has been thoroughly pa-red, and the comforts and accomodations of a •U •'lass Hotel, will be found by all who may favor *'th their custom. Ber.teir.bcrll.lS6l. M. OILMAN, DENTIST. /: vi 9s T OILMAN, has permanently located in Tunk -* • hannoek Borough, and respectfully tenders his Sessional services to the citizens of this place and froun-iing country. ACTION ORK WARRANTED . TO GIVE SATIS* t over Tutton's Law Offio#, near tho Pos n^e. hec. 11, IS6I. HOWARD ASSOCIATION, II 111 LA DELPHI A. Uie Relief of the Sick Distressed, afflicted with iruUnt and Chronic Diseases, and especially tor the Cure of Diseases •/the Sexual Organs J m advice given gratis, by the Acting Surgeon iuuble Reports on Spermatorrhoea or Sernina* akness, and other Diseases of the Sexual <)r & ns 1 ie t l ex \ in the DispeLso- WBt to the a filleted in sealed letter envelope froc tharge Two or three stamps for postage will be $ xS- A,ldress '„ Dr J-SKILLIN HOUGH Anting Surgeou, Howard Association. Nsolv ""th Street, Philadelphia Pa, ln2oly IME FOR FARMERS, AS A FERTILIZE" J for Ba,e YERNOY'S. Mvtlioppcn, Scjt. 13.1361. Corner. The War, who Pays the Cost! Who pays the cost'? Ask the sister, Sorrowful she sits and sighs— Mourning for an only brother, " The cost is mine," the maiden cries. Who pays the cost 1 Ask the father, Grieved, l ut silent, quelling grief, That swells his bosom for his boy, "I ve dearly paid" his answer brief. Who pays the cost ? Ask the mother, Bent with sorrow as with tears ; She weeps a son, in battle fallen " The cost is mine, I pay with tears." Who pays the cost 1 Ask the orphan, Sad and friendless now his life; liis father in the conflict tell— "' Tie mine, the eost of this fell strife." Who pays the cost 1 Ask the widow, Broken hearted, lone and poor — Iler husband slain, she doth bewail, " Tve paid my all, 1 hate no more." What is the cost ? Bank bills and gold! The dross that misers hoard and hide 1 Those tears of grief, a thousand fold, Outweigh all other cost beside. [Columbus (O.) Crisis. Sclctt stoni. From the San Francisco Golden Era. A Truthful Story of to-day. Mrs. Smith !—of course you know her.— Her husband, Mr. Smith, is a wholesale deal or in codfish, gimlets, molasses, cotton goods and patent medicines. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are of the real ban lon,the recherche of socie ty, beau mov.de considered Mrs. Smith the belle of their peculiar element. You meet Mrs. Smith upon the street and politely raise your hat, or more properly duck your head ! in a bow, in token of, " I would cut it off if it j would render you any pleasure." Now you would hardly believe Mrs. Smith, that richly ; dressed and fashionable lady, with proud j step and a continuous curl at servant girls! upon her beautiful and haughty lip, was once a servant—ah, twice—once a servant and factory hand, in the l'ankee land of Lowell. That's to her honor ; for have not kings mar ried commoners, and dukes made duchesses ol peasant girls ? She was haughty a few months ago, but those who thought her all arrogance now find in her amiability, and ' those who thought her haughty, now love j her for lier sympathy and kindness. There-! by begins our story. Mrs. Smith was the most unpleasant mis tress servant girls ever tried to please, and if by dint of perseverance any one of them remained in her employ two weeks Mr. Smith's astonishment was plainly visible. Well, Smith puts on airs, as well as Mrs. Smith.—lt was by a lucky accident he go* started and followed up his fortunes until lie obtained his present importance. Tell Smith he worked at common labor a few years ago, or how he learned the art of buying or sell ing for profit by graduating from boarding house stewardship, and there learned his first idea of' trade,' he will probably reply— " Ah, them was old times." Old times, true enough! Just a decade gone siuce ' them old, old times.' The man at the intelligence office had sfint •five different girls to Mrs. Smith's employ in two weeks, and on this particular morning Mrs. Smith wanted a new servant. " Mrs. Smith," said the lady, addressing her senior partner, iu a tone that said plainer than her words—" I have an order for you this morning." Mr. Smith, the steamer has arrived. I see by this morning's paper, there were three hundred women on board, and I should think that you might get me a real good servant woman. I Want no more girls about this house. I bel'ove that if 1 have as much trouble another six months, with ser vant girls, as I have within the past six, I shall go distraeted, die, or he .obliged to do my own house work." " Well, dear," Smith replied, in a banter ing tone of voice—(bantering with Mrs. Smith was like little boys venturing upon thin ice ;) —" well, dear, if you do the first act, I 6hall take good care of you—in the asy lum ) if the second, I will see you decently entombed; if you do your own housework, 1 will pay you servant's wages. There!" For a moment Mrs. Smith held her breath, then came low murmuring®. Smith began to move. Then the first sharp drops from between her pearl like teeth and rosy lips— Smith was in the hall. Then, with the thun dering majesty of Zantippe Junior she spoke —aud Smith was making for the street. A boy and a girl came running towards the breakfast room while yet the clouds hung over tie atmosphere of that cozy place. Mrs. Smith smiles—and the sunshine breaks thro'. •'Not yet dressed, my darlings?"—and the full tide of tho noonday brightness shines re splendent all through, mellowed by the tone of a mother's voice. " I would like a situation," said a mild face at the intelligence office. The face was not actually what is called pretty, but there was "TO SPEAK HIS THOUGHTS IS EVERY FREEMAN'S RlGHT."—Thomas Jefleraou. TUNKHANNOCK, PA., WEDNESDAY, FEB. 18, 1863. ' a charm about the whole person that was I rather prepossessing. The intelligencer look | ed at the woman—as only men in that sta tion can—to see if the women would 6uit the place, and the place suit the woman. • " I have only one place," he replied, " Mrs. Smith's and she is the hardest women to suit with help in this city. But if you have a mind to, you can try the place, and if you stay with her a mouth I'll charge you the usual fee ; if not I'll get you another place." The woman was sat isfied to try, and a boy was sent to show her the lady's residence. " Mrs. Smith," soliloquized the woman as she walked up towards the mountain. " Mrs. Smith." A paleness overspread her face as she caught a glimpse of the features of Mrs. Smith through the window when she turned into the basement of the house, but with an effort she gathered courage ; and her cheek grew red with the returning flush. "Mr sent this woman," said the boy to Mrs. Smith as they entered the large breakfast room, where the children were making boats out of egg shells and floating them in ponds of coffee. " Another woman," cried Ed, running up to her and catching hold of her gown, "an cther wom'n,' lisped little Kate as she follow ed her brother's example. " Woman, never mind them," said Mrs, Smith. "Ed and Kate go and be dressed— go this instant, or I'll whip you." The children did not heed the mother, and the woman was hardly conscious of eithe r .— She seemed ail attention to other thoughts— perhaps about her own children or these she loved and left behind. The office boy, the while, was saying, " And Mr. 6ays he hopes she will suit you—and since there has been so much said about girl's wages in the papers they are all going off in the country— and thi.i one came on the steamer, yesterday, from the States." The boy's errand done, he left the mis tress with the woman. Mrs. Smith seated herself upon the lounge, wlii'e the woman stood gazing with apparent astonishment around her. " What countrywoman are you 7" Mrs. Smith inquired, as she began the formula of her accustomed c/nH-echism. " American," the woman articulated, in reply, as if half afraid to speak. " llow old are you ?" " Twenty-two." " Maid or widow V " Widow." " Can you take good care of children. Ed and Kate are two dear sweet children, and if you are any ways cross, I fear you will not suit me." " I am very fond of children, madam," and the woman fairly shuddered as she spoke the word " Madam." " Can you wash for the family ; there are only four of us." " I can try." " Can you cook a good dinner if our ser vant man helps yon—for sometimes we have company, at other times we are not particu lar?" " I believe T can. My sister used to praise me for being a good cook." " Your sister 1 Poor soul, perhaps she was not a judge." The woman bit her lips until the biood f.ii'ly started from their trembling veins. " Well I want you to do chamber work besides, and make yourself generally useful about the house. Now what wages do you expect V " Thirty-live dollars a month, I was told was the usual wages." •' Thirty five dollars," and Mrs. Smith raised her eyes in surprise. " Why you must mean twenty-five dollars—that is the high est wages I ever paid," she exclaimed. And Mrs. Smith smiled for she had heard the boy say that the woman had just arrived, and she was one of those women opposed to high wages for servants. " I suppose it must be twenty-five," said the woman timidly. " I do not know what wages are paid here for help—l only arrived yesterday." " I can assure you, Bridget, that twenty five dollars a month is very good wages, and if that will do you, why—l will try you." Bridget, Mr. Smith had called her-—and as Mrs. Smith had called every girl and woman °f the fifty she had. Bridget's first duty was to wash and dress little Ed and Kate— and somehow or other the children were made to look unusually neat that morning, and Bridget's eyes were red as if from weep ing—and Ed and Ivate each had a remarka ablc story, " the new woman kissed them most to pieces." When Mr. Smith returned to supper that evening he was agreeably surprised to find the house in unusual good order. Mrs. Smith was in cheerful spirits, for she had found less to do that day than she had for a long time before. Bridget seemed to be ahead of her in everything and to anticipate her wants, — The children minded her by instinct, and Mr Smith declared that if Bridget was as good every day in producing comfort in the house hold as she was on the first of her introduc tion, ho would not part with her for thrice her wages, Two months rolled around and Mrs. Smith began to become very uneasy in ber new sit uation, for she had no occasion to direct or superintend affairs—she became irritable and nervous, One day there had been quite a number of visitors, and whatever went wrong in the parlor that raised Mrs. Smith's ire, was visited on the head of the uuoffending Bridg et. 'Husband,' was Mrs. Smith's ejaculation of complaint as soon as Mr. Smith entered that evening, 'to-morrow morning, when you go down town, leave a note at the intelligence office, and tell them to send me another wo man. Bridget was quite impudent and saucy to-day, and I will not put up with a servant's impudence,' 'But wife,' was Smith's remonstrance. I thought that Bridget was the chief par excel lence of house maids, 1 think y. u said ' 'Mr- Smith I know what a servant should be,' she exclaimed, 'and I do not want you to tell me.' 'Yes, yes I have no doubt you do and Smith balanced a plate upon his fingers, as if in the act of washing ib, and Mrs. Smith's face blushed as red as a scarlet. 'Mr. Smith' sh exclaimed—and shrank back unable to articulate more—and just then Bridget entered and cut short her accu mulating words. The twilight of evening had come, and the sitting-room was lighted. Mr. Smith took out his portfolio, rang the bell, and Bridget entered the room. 'Bridget,' said Mr. Smith, "I am sorry but Mrs. Smith says she will dispense with your services after two months—l wish I could say two years—and lam sorry to pkrt with you- Sign this receipt and hero is a bonus with your wages.' And he placed a package of coin by the side of the paper. Bridget took up the pen, and in a neat hand wrote 'Frances Depue.' Mr. Smith took up the receipt and glanced at the name, and then walked across the room and held the paper before his wife.— Mrs. Smith,' said he, 'her name is Frances— not Bridget.' A blush suffused Mrs. Smith's face. 'Frances, what State are you from V inqui red Mrs. Smith, as the woman was leaving the room. " Massachusetts,' she replied. 'What part Frances V 'Lowell.' 'Was you accquainted with Mr. Robert De pue's family, they have the same name as yourself?' she eageily inquired. 'Yes quite well, she answered very quietly. 'And is the old gentleman still living V Mis Smith earnestly asked, and continued: 'I have not heard from there iu a long time.' 'No, he is dead,' she replied with a sigh.— 'lie has been dead about a year. 'Dead! Poor old man !' Mrs Smith ex claimed, and she bru shed a tear from her cheek, 'Tell me, Frances, all you know about him and his death, and I will bo thankful to you for it.' 'I suppose his death was like that of many other poor old men,' she began—and contin ued, as a sad expression stole over her face; 'The old gentleman had two daughters. The youngest got married and emigrated to St. Louis with her husband, leaving the oldest at home with her father. Finally she too got married, and like her sister emigrated West with her husband, leaving the old gen tleman alone, and 1 believe he never heard from her afterwards, only through strangers. I know that they came to California, and it is said that her husband Mr. Smith, is rich.' 'Frances, hasten your recital,' exclaimed Mrs. Smith excitedly, and tell me about Mr. Depue's death.' The tale is a short one, madam,' Frances replied—and she gave Mrs. Smith a look that tnado her tremble, "The old gentleman,' she continued, 'was left alone to the tender mer cies of strangers. A long sickness followed, and exhausted his once competent means, for in the absence of those who should have been at his bedside, there was no one to take care of his affairs. After all was gone they mer cifully sent the old gentleman to the alms house." "Oh my God ! and he died there ?" ex claimed Mrs. Smith, between the choking sobs that escaped from her lips. 0^ " Oh, no, he did not die there," Frances re plied, " for his youngest daughter returned. She had buried her husband at St. Louis, and after gathering her estate together, she turn ed her attention to her father's house." The misfortune of her only parent and friend was a sad blow to her ; but she soon provided a home for him, and lor nearly a year she nursed and watched over liiin, and on his death-bed received his last blessing in re ward for her dutiful conduct, lie is buried beside his wife iu the old burying ground." " She remained in Lowell for some time af ter her father's death," Frances continued, " expecting to hear from her sister Elizabeth, to whom she had often written without re ceiving a reply. She finally concluded to corao to California. She arrived here two months ago, and by a strange fatal.ty was in troduced into her sister's house as a servant, where she remained ever 6ince." Iler words were so calmly spoken that Mrs. Smith was startled. " llow could this be ?" exclaimed Mrs. Smith, as she sprang towards Frances, " and 1 know jou ?" Ah ! Ella Frances, my sister ; and Mrs. Smith ex tended her arms to embrace her. But Frances quietly prevented her from doing so, as she replied; " No, Elizabeth. I came here as your ser vant ; as such you have treated me, and as such I will leave you." And she left the room. Not the prayers of her sister nor the entreaties of her brother in-law, could change her resolve. It was a terrible lesson to Mrs. Smith, and she will never forget it. Ella Frances Depue \\ was soon afterwards married to a merchant who knew her at St. Louis and ap preciated her and she is now mistress of a home equal in wealth to her sister's, and more replete with happiness. With the exception of names, this " Story of lo day" is true ; and the actors need not blush at its recital, for this is but one of the many that are stranger than fiction. ifiliscellantous. THE SOLDIER'S FATE. BY PEAKL DE VERS. Missing ! That was all the paper said ; but upon the heart of the mourning mother, who sat there, with the yellow sunlight drifting slowly over her folded hands, it fell like a note of doom; and in that one word was con centrated the agony of a lifetime. The apple-trees were all white with their pink-tinted blossoms when, at his country's call her fairhaired boy, her only one, had said : " Good-bye, mother!" And as, with a blending of pride and ten derness, she watched his receding form until it grew dim and indistinct in the distance a murmured prayer went up before the throne of Ilim who "doeth ail things well," that He would guide her boy, and keep him from all harm. And Hope with magic hand had paint ed many a fair picture, woven many a golden day-dream, which now lay broken and shattered before the terrible reality contained in the one word "Missing". And oh ! well might the hope fade from the mother's heart! Many time shall the pink tintcd apple buds burst into blossoms, and be drifted in white clouds at her feet ; Many times shall spring merge in to summer, and summer, into autumn, but he will never come again. Far down in a quiet valley, where a few days before silence reigned, and the grass grew fresh and green untrodden by the foot of man, the harvest-moon shone upon the life less form of the widow's child, as he lay sleeping calmly the last still sleep of death. The light wind sighed mournfully through the tall trees which waved above him, and lifted the bright hair stained with life's crimson current from his fair forehead ; the blue eyes were closed forever, and the white hinds, which had never defrauded another, were crossed over the stilled heart, which once beat so high with hope and happiness, but now never would know joy or Borrow again The moonbeams glinted down through the trembling leaves, and cast unearthly shadows over the still face of the sleeper, and the cold stars looked down pityingly upon the beauti ful dust of one who was cot permitted to rest near His home, or sleep beside his kindred. And as the moonbeams also crept into the happy home which had once been his, but over which the dark shadow of grief now rested like a pall, tho mother clasped her hands, and prayed—prayed that God would give her strength to say " Thy will be done,'' and prayed that among the redeemed In hea ven her fair-haired boy might not bo "miss ing." THE JAIL HOSTAGES. Mr. Greeley recently threatened in his over-bearing way another New York editor that the newspaper press should be bent to the support of the Lincoln dynasty, or the editors be sent to Jail, We copy below the spirited reply of the Express : BROOKS vs. GREELEY— Now Mr. Greeley and the Express and the public may just as well understand one another. If a Mr. B. is kidnapped and taken to a Washington pris on, as many others have been, from this city and State, 25,(XX) men will band together tj kidnap Mr. G. and te keep him as a hostage for the safe return of the Washington victim. Fort Lafayette now is not strong enough to hold a State prisoner imprisoned for politics. No soldier of Democratic or Whig antecedents, or of Republican conservative antecedents will guard such a prisoner. Or if they did, a posse comitatus, under a sheriff, 100,000 strong, can be summoned to bring him out. A thorough understanding of all these things may save the city and the State a world of trouble, because the Ecpress intends here" after, very fearlessly, to discuss the perverted issue# of this war, and to dare the consequen ces. When and Where a free press, amena ble "only to the laws, cannot be published, life is not worth having. The political skies in this section are looking brightly. From all parts of the country, we hear of men forsaking the Re publicans aud coming over to the side of the Constitution and truth, TEnMS ■- ai-QO 3?EH annvk THE IRISIf OLOOD Stu/i 1 , How many Irishmen have bean mutilated in this war ? How many of them h*r e killed in it ? How much Irish blood s'ed in all our battle-fields ? How many Irish vid ows and orphans has it made? These M-Q. melancholy questions. Who can solve them i W* cannot but rejoice that our people have enlisted freely in support of the Constitution. Their patriotism and their valor honor their race and their adopted country forever. But what has their blood, their valor, their patri otism achieved ? Certainly not that which was expected. , For this bad result we are to blame the inability and dishonesty of the politicians," statesmen, and county-attorney warriors at \V ashington. It is not an unfair calculation that thirty thousand Irish lives have been lost in this war—that it has made ten thous and Irish widows; that it has made orphans of forty thousand Irish children ; and that it has rendered desolate forever, thousands of Irish parents and brothers and sisters. Ver ily, the Irish have an interest in seeing this war ended ! Ihere were once ample reasons for holding that they did not enlist in vain ; that the splendid sacrifice they made would be followed by the triumph of the Republic. Those reasons exist now only in the shadow ; and in addition to their substantial disper sion, their solid places are occupied by rea sons of another kind. THIS ABOLITION JAC TION IS THE GREAT CUIISE OF THE COUNTRY. Justly m3y we all go on our knees and in voke the God of nations to destroy it for all time. It merits the Irish malediction in a most particular manner, only for its heart rending desolation had not entered tens of thousands of our happy Irish homes ! WINDS DAGEROUS TO THE HEALTH. The dread of the east wind is universal.- Every one has seen and experienced its effects. Man and beast turn from it as from an enemy; and vegetation shrinks from its. blasting influence. Rising in the dry arid plain of Asia, and passing over the great northern plateau of Europe, it is deprived of all moisture, imparting to everything it touches a dry, chilled, parched feeling, verifying the well known adage, "when the wind is in the east, it is neither good for man or beast" The Mistral, too, in the south of France, is destructive to health and life. The Sirocco, prevailing in the Mediterranean Italy, and Sicily, is a hot, south east wind enervating the body -and destroying th© energies of the mind. Its heat; like a blast from an oven, is insupportable. Under ita influence every fibre is relaxed, every pore is opened, all nature languishes, and life itself is burdensome. In Spain, the Solona and Gallego—the one a cold and the other a hot wind—are pernicious in their effect; this . dreaded for its keeness, that reduces those with whom it comes in contact to a peculiar state of inactivity. The air of Madrid is exceedingly insalubrious, rendering the Capi tol of Spain one of the most unhealthy cities in Europe. Nor are Spaniards unaware of this, for they have a proverb, that u the air of Madrid isjio subtle that if will not put out a candle, yet it will extinguish a man's life." £2£T The Tribune informs the nation that. "Simon Cameron, true to this policy and to "the manhood of his report of 1862, propose# . "to lead a brigade of colored Unionists into . "the heart of the rebellion." The Tribune is hard upon its chromatic patriots. Simon. Cameron may be very happy to lead a brigade of "colored Unionists" into the heart of the • rebellion (wherever that may be) or any where else out of I he reach of Dr. Boyer and . senatorial committees. But what will the "colored Unionists" say to the matter? "Wendell Philips," said a certain Boston.law-- yer of dubious fame to an acquaintance, calP v ed me Judas Iscariot in a speech to-night, but I don't mind it." "1 dare say not," replied his acquaintance; "but how do you suppose Judas would like it 1" HAPPY WOMAN— Is sho not the very sparkle and sunshine of life 1 A woman #o is happy because she can't help —whose smiles even the coldest sprinkle of. misfortune cannot dampen. Men make £ terrible mistakes when 4 then they marry fpr beauty, for talents or style. The sweetest wives are those who possess the magic secret of contented under any circumstances. Rich or poor, high or low, it makes no difference —the bright little fountains of joy bubbles up just as musically in their hearts. Do they live in a log cabin, the first that leaps up on its humble hearts become brighter than the gilded chandeliers in Aladdin's palace. Were the stream of life so dark and unprop itious that the sunshinq,of a happy face falling on the turbid tide wonld not awake an answering gleam. Why, these joyoua tempered people don't know half the good they do. * JGSTTake care of your neighbor; dunH let them stir without watching—they may do wrong if you do. To be sure, you never knew them to be anything very bad, but it may be on your account thoy have not— perhaps if it had not been for your kind of care, they might have disgraced themselves a long timo ago, Therefore don't relax any effort to keep them where they ought to be. Never mind your own business— that will take oare of itself ! .; VOL. 2, N0.28.