x JSIGKLXJUZE*., Proprietor, j
NEW SERIES,
forfb ffraitrii Sfraorrat.
A weekly Democratic
paper, dcvoteil to Pol- feskai /<'( 1?"
ties, News, the Arts i i &
and Sciences Ac. Pub- jttlLVj. 2555=-
1 isbed every Wednes- ,'j
day, at Tunkhannock, \y tfifrrS
Wyowiug County, Pa. V f* &
BY HARVEY SiCKLER, -
Terms —1 copy 1 year, (in advance) -51.59. I
not pain within six mouths, £2.00 wnl be charged
10 lines ori . \ \ l \
less, make three \four \ tiro Jhrcc. \ six one
one square iceeks mo'th mo Ui^year
l"sauar~ ~IM 1,25? 2,2a'' 2,87; 3,OuJ 5,00
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liusiucss Cards of one square, with paper, 85.
TOI3 WOriK
of all kinds neatly executed, and at prices to suit
\fo times.
i i i ■—mr—r r - q— '■ ■ lll ■
glitsiiu'SS
p E<>. • TITTTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW
IJT Tunkhannock, l'a. Office in Fturk's Brick
Block, Tioga street.
Wjm. M. P? ATT, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Of-
W fiee in Stark's Brick Block, Tioga St., lunk
hannaek, Pa.
> R. Si S, W, LITTbE ATTORNEY'S AT,
it LAW, Office on Tioga street, lunkhannoek
Pa.
rT S.COOPER, PHYSICIAN A SURGEON
I. Newton Centre, Luzerne County Pa.
I IMB FOR ? ARMERS, AS A FERTILIZE :
I j for sale at \ ERNOI
Mcsfeoppon. Sept. IP 186' j
T V. SMITH, M. D . RILY.-ICIAN & SURGEON, !
• Office on Bridge Street, next door to the Demo
crat Office, Tunkhannock, l'a.
1 > I?, r C BHO K !'. if .
PHYSICIAN A SURGEON,
Wnnld respectfully announce to the citizens of Wy
oming that he has located at TtnikWannock where
he will promptly attend to all calls in the line of
his profession.
Will be found at home on aturdays of
each week.
WALL'S HOTEL,
LATE AMERICAHOUSE,
TUNKHANNOCK, WYOMING CO., PA.
I'HIS establishment has recently been refitted and
furnished in the latest style Every attention
will fie given to th couiiurt and convenience of those
who patronize the House.
T. B. WALL, Owner and Proprietor.
Tunkhannock, September 11, 1861.
NORTH BRANCH HOTEL.
AIESIIOPPEN, WYOMING COUNTY, PA
Win. 11. COIMRIGHT, Prop'r
j TAYING resumed the proprietorship of the above
L L Hotel, the undersigned mil -pare no effort to
fender the house uu agreeable place of sojourn for
•if who way favor it with their custom.
Win 11 CCKTRIIIIIT.
June, 3rd, 1563
stfaiis I)otfl,
A., .
D- B. BARTLET,
(Late of the BBUAINAKD IIOSSK, ELKIRA, N. Y".
PROPRIETOR.
The MEANS HOTEL, i-on? of the LARGEST
nnd BEST ARRANGED Houses in the country —It
i> fitted up in the most modern and improved style,
and n.i pains are spared to make it u pleasant and
agreeable stopping-piace for all,
v 3, n2l, Iv
M. OILMAN,
DENTIST.
A T OILMAN, ha? permanently located in Tunk
l\l. hnnnock Borough, and respectfully tenders his
professional services to the citizens of this place and
urrounding country.
ALL WORK WARRANTED, TO GIVE SATIS
FACTION.
I'if' Office over Tut ton's Law Office, near the IV-
Jffiee
Dee. 11, 1861.
A GENTLEMAN', cu.ed of Nervous Debility. In
competency, Premature Decay and Youtiiful Error,
iictuatee by a desire to benefit others, will be b ippy
to furnish to all who need i■ t (free of charge ), the
recipe and direction? for making the simple remedy
used in hiscase. Those wishing to profit by bis. and
liossese a Valuable Itemed}, w-11 reieixe the came
by return mail, (carefully sealed,) hy addressing
JOHN B. O(? n EN
No- 60 Nassau street, New York.
% 3-n4O-3m0..
DO YOU WISH TO BE CURED 7-n
BI CUAS's EKOT.Isa SPECIFIC pitps cure, i
ess than 30 days, the wor? f "ftses of NKiivorsHESS —
1 mpotency, Premature Docay, Seminal Weakness,
Insanity, and all Urinary, Sexual, and Nervous
Affections, no matter from what cause produced -
Price, One Dollar per box. Sent, postpaid, by mail
on receipt of an order. Address,
JAMES S. BUTLER,
Station D, Bible House
New York.
n3l-3iu. M. & Co,.
rT SE Jf? o OTHER '-BUCBAK'S SPECIFIC
n . „ 'l' arc the only Reliable Remedy for all
Distitsai of the Seminal, Urinary nnd Nervous Sys
rn'nv a M° d be cureJ ONE DOLLAR
A HOX. One hox m l perfect u CHre , or lQ re
tmied. bent by mail ou receipt of price
JAMES S. BUTLER, '
Stat n D. Bible Poase
NvtV York,
... General Agent
U i.Ce *
fact's Corner,
The Independent Farmer.
Let sailors sing of the windy deep,
Let soldiers praise their armor,
But in nij* heart this toast I'll keep,
The Independent Farmer,
When first the rose in robe of green
Unfolds its crimson lining.
/.nd ronud his cottage porch is seen
The honeysuckle twining ;
VYhon banks of bloom their sweetness yield,
To bees that gathet honey,
lie drivos the team across the Sold,
Where skies are soft and sunny.
The blackbird clacks beh nd the plow,
The quail pipes loud and clearly,
Yon orchard hides beyond its bough.
The home he loves so dearly •
The gray nDd old barn doors unfold
His ample store in measure,
More rich than heaps of hoarded gold,
A precious, blessed treasure ;
While yonder in the porch there stands
His wife the lovely charmer,
Thesw, etest rose on a 1 his lands—
The independent Farmer.
To him the spring comes dancingly.
To him the Summer blushes.
The Autumn stuiies with mellow ray,
His sleep Winter hushes ;
He cares not how the world may move,
No doubts or fears contound iiira ,
His little Ilock are linked in love.
An 1 household angels roune hiin ;
lie trusts to Go! and lovbs his wife,
No griefs no ills may harm her ;
lie's Nature's nobleman in life —
The Independent Farmer.
Select Sdorn,
l — / - -o
TH K NY I EE'S J > It K AM.
"Your partners wife has them, Frederick
an i I should think y< u would try and keep
upjwith him, when your income is precisely
the s:;tne. 1 have been mortified to death j
every tune Mrs. Denham has culled."
"Pity, isn't it ?" was the laconic reply,
and the iips of the young husband took a
decided curl, as he busied his eyes on the
morning paper, which had been lying unno
t ced beside him.
Mrs. Porcivai pushed her plate away, and,,
arose from the tabic with a dissatisfied air.
and entering the parlor adjoining the cozy
little breakfast room, commenced pulling ah
stractedly at the brown leaves ibat had hid
den themselves among the bright green of
the vigorous plants that occupied the win
dow o( the pleasant little {parlor; and now
and then she w. uid bestow a contemptuous j
glance upon li e plain white screens that
shaded the upper part ef the window.
" How meanly they do look," she said to
ln-rself; " 1 will not give it up so. Fred
(aloud.) I wish you had the least bit of pride
in the world."
" Yi i have en >ugh for both of in," was
the response, as the husband threw down
his paper and joined his wife.
'• But, riffle, truly these plain shades suit
my taste much better than those guilt ones
you were so desirous of obtaining. They I
are in such perfect keeping with the whole
room. Can you not see there is nothing to
compare with these expensive curtains ?"
" 1 know everything is as cheap and mean
as can be,'' was the unpleasant reply, "If
you on!} had a little of Denham's spirit,
things would wear a very different loon."
" Eflie, you know Mr. Denham has dono
comparatively nothing towards furnishing
his house ; Mrs. Durham is the only child of
wealthy parents, who supply her with every
thing she wishes. Had you been such, you
would have been furnished with luxuries,
perhaps "
" Don't fiing my poverty in my face, Fred
erick Percival'" was the quick retort, while
her far face flushed with anger. " I wish
from my heart you had married a rich wife."
" And }ou a tich husbaud."
" I did not say it,"
" But you thought if. Very well, I wish
you had."
Mr. Percival turned into the hall with a
deep cloud upon his brow, almost the first
that had been visible since the happy morn
ing. one year before, when he had brougut
his bride to the pleasant home, in one of the
ino6t beautiful of the suburb towns ncai
the metropolis, where he had just entered in
to business inon the capital he had carefully
hoarded through the lcng years of his clerk
ship. This home had looked very sweet
and beautiful to the newly wedded pair ; and
the furniture, carefully and tastefully select
ed and arranged, and looked quite elegant to
Effie. But long before there was a spot or
blemish upon any article in the nice'y-kept
rooms, they were-tarnished in her eyes by
the contrast presented in the newly-furnish
ed home of her husband's partner ; and for
weeks she had been growing more dissatis
fied and unhappy—constantly urging some
trifling change, which her husbaud made, or
as kindly refused, till, wearied by her con
stant importunities,thhs morning had brought
-> open disagreement.
The j-ou'ig husband put on his overcoat in
the hall, and without the usual parting kiss
and kind good rooming went out, and Effic
"TO SPEAK HIS THOUGHTS IS EVERY FREEMAN'S RIGHT. "—Thomas Jefferson.
TUNKHANNOCK, PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 20 1864.
watched him fr m the window as he hasten
ed down the street, hoping for some token
of love, but there was none. lie stopped a
moment to hail a passing car, jumped quickly
upon the platform aud was beyond her sight.
Soraow and anger were mingled in 'her
heart for a moment, but the latter quickly
gained the ascendency, and returning to the
breakfast-room, she commenced clearing the
table with such a resolution as to cause the
little maid, who was the only servant in the
household, to leave het breakfast unfinished,
and gaze eageriy iuto the troubled face of
her mistress.
Oh, what hard, bitter thoughts rolled over
in the mind of the young housekeeper, as
she went about her morning duties !
' T > thinkhow I have to drive and delve, '
were a portion of her thoughts. " I don't
get tune to read or prac ice, and my hands"
are getting so black and dingy, and I grow
old and faded every day ol mv life. Oh,
dear, and then to think, after all I do for
him, 1 <aii't have anything I wast."
But when ihe work was all nicely com
pleted, and a cheerful fire lighted in the par
lor, .Efffe went in and sat down to her sew
ing. It was a dress for herself she was mak
ing, of a costly pattern which Frederick had
place' under her pillow a few nights previous
and had proved such a welcome surprise.—
Now it had lost ail its beauty ; her thread
knotted, her stitches looked long n;.d uneven,
and at last she threw it down impatiently,
and taking a book which was lying upon the
table, tried to interest herself in its pages.
Frederick had heard her wish for that too,
and it was his hand that had traced the lov
ing lines up ui the fly-leaf the day previous.
Somehow everything she touched seemed to
prove that her husband was not such a ;
■hard-hearted wretch after all ; but she was !
hardly ready to acknowledge it to herself
ju-t then, so she petted and nourished the
hard, revengeful lcelings, till she dropped
asleep upon the sofa.
The vision of an elegant home rose before
her. Tho hangings upon (he wall were choice
and costly ; the carpet was of the finest tex
ture : the rich furnafure and all accompani
ments of wealth and luxury surrounded her;
while before the windows hung the identical
shades which had filled her waking moments
wi:h such anxious wishes. But she, the mis
tress of it all. was still unhappy. A vague,
undefinabie fear found its way through the
mazes of .sleep. Her husband's affections
seemed alienated from her, and she was alone
at nightfall anxiously awaiting his return. A
confused murmur of voices ran through her
dream; heavy footsteps were heard treading
the hail; the door opened nd the body
of her husband was borne into her presence.
So sudden and terrible was the shock, she
only gazed in speechless agony upon the
wounded body ol" her beloved companion.—
The strangers who had borne him thither had
withdrawn, and she was left alone with the
partner of her husband, who approached her
and grasping her arm firmly, said in tones of
deep sternness:
' Woman, behold your work ! in your fool
ish pride and ambition,you have iv:coked ihe
happiness of that noble, generous soul. One
hour since he came into the store with pale
face and agitated frame. ' Walter," he said
feelingly, "I ain a ruined man. To gratify
Effie's ambition and have peace in the house
hold, I have bartered my soul and body and
now the end has come. lam overpowered
with debt ; I cannot meet the eyes of the
world, ncr the reproaches of my wife;" and
before I could detain bim be had taken his
own life in his hands and ended his miserable
existence. You have sent him uncalled and
unprepared into eternity. IDs blood be upon
your head."
In agony Effie awoke from her troubled
sleep, and springing up, gave an eager glance
around the appartment.
"Thank God," broke fervently from her
lips, "it is only a dream I
Never before had her own little parlor
looked so sweetly in its plain, substantial
dress ; and even the despised shades wore a
changed look, now that sue no longer saw
them through a distorted vision,
"Dear Fred, what a naughty wife I make
you, I ought to be ashamed, aud lam truly
Yon are yet hardly stalled in business, and of
course want to be prudent till you know how
you are to succeed ; and I am burdening you
wit 8 reproaches, and teasing you for every
thing that comes into my little, wilful head.
Oh! if that dream ha' been true. It must
seive m for a lesson at any rate. I was no
happier in my sleep that I had all those beau
tiful objects around me,for which I have been
wishing so constantly. And would they be
worth 'fFredrick did not love me? While
I have him and the wealth of his deep affec
tion, I ought and will be satisfied."
The tears flowed d ,wn the flushed cheek—
not the bitter tears of unsatisfied pride,but
hearty, generous repentance. Before the tears
were wiped away the door bell rang. The
shades had come.
"Mr. Percival sent them. Tn which room
will vou have them hung?" *
Effie was not expecting them, and there
was only a momentary struggle before 6ht
answered firmly :
"I am sorry to trouble you, sir, but since
my husband went out I have concluded to do
without them. \Vhst shall I pay you for
your and get you to take them
back ?"
"Not anything, Mrs. Percival," was the
hearty response. "Indeed, I hardly knew
how to let your husband have them, as they
were partly promised to another, but he
seemed to have quite set his heart upon them
It's all right,l presume."
The clerk went dowu the steps, aud Effie
turned back into the parlor with a happier
heart than she had ever known at the gratifi
cation of her most cherished desires, and
when ou the same afternoon, she received a
call from the partner's wife,so fair a face had
her home put ou she forgot the contrast be
tween the two, and ceased to feel tho least
mortification at her own humble lot.
The day wore slowly away, and, long he
fore the nsual hour Effie had tea ready, and
stationed herself at the window to watch the
coming of the absent one. The warm breath
that left its faint impress upon the glass
against which her anxious face was pressed*
came a little quicker as the familiar form
came up the street. She ran to open the hall
door as usual, but blushes nestled in her
cheeks, and tiiere was an embarassment min
gled with ker joyful greeting-
Her husband met her kindly, but a faint
remembrance lankled in his heart, and he
could not forbear the thought:
I should have met with a cooler recep
tion had it not. been for the shades conse
quently his first glance was towards the
windows, but tho satue old curtains occupied
their place.
" Didn't Mr. Webster send those shades 1
ordered ?"
"W hat shades, Frederick,'"' inquired Effie
w'th a strong effort to control the mirth that
was speaking from her eyes, and which at
last broke from tho rosy ,lips with the histo
ry of the day.
But, as she proceeded, tears toek the place
of smiies, and tho eyes of her husband pre
sented a sympathetic appearance, and press
ing her more closely to him,"he 6aid :
Wiles* you, my little wife, and forgive roe
too, for harboring such unjust thoughts to
ward you, I went into town feeling very
bitterly, aud everything went so badly it on
ly increased bad feelings "After a little time
M rs. Denham and her cousin come in. I was
hidden from them by a pile of goods, and the
first words 1 noticed were from the younger
lady :
"We are going to call on your partner's
wife this aftei noon, Mr. Denham ; I am pre
pared to love her dearly from Hester's ac
count.' '
" She is a paragon of perfection in her eyes
I believe," was the reply ; " and she quite
merits it, for she is truly a charming littlo
lady."
" Oh, Fred, Mr. Denham didn't say that
about ine /"-{chimed in the young wife.
, " Yes, and that's not all. Mrs. Denham
went on to speak ot you in terms of war
mest praise, and then she said, she is a cap
ital housekeeper lam going to ask her to
give me lessons when we are a little better
acquainted. Her home is so neat and nice,
that when I come from a call there I feel
really ashamed of my lack of taste. By the
way Elfie, I guess that is the way you ladies
have (4 seeing other people's houses. Well,
then, I thought I was a perfect monster. 1
know the conversation was true, and I deter
mined to spare nothing that wonld add to
your gratification, and show others what a
model housekeeper i bad for a wife. That
was bow the shades happened to come.
" Ab, Effie, in my pride for you, I might
indeed have realized the fatal ending. Let
us wait awhile, till we are established in bu
siness. and be sure r.ot to go one ccut be
yond our income now, nnd perhaps one day
we may have luxuries too "
" Aud don't we have rww, Dear Fred ?
Is not it a luxury to have you come-home so
strong and well, and to hold so much love for
each other in our hearts? How fojlish I've
been to envy Mrs. Denham, and to make my
self wretched and ycu too. Forgive me just
this once, and I promise never to forget the
"Dream Lesson."
VILLAGE LIFE.— How many pleasing ideas
does the term call up in the fervid imagina
tion—peace, purity che, fulness, simplicity,
kindness, rural scenes and rustic sports.—
The words have magic power. The chord of
feeling is touched and sweetl}' will it vibrate
beneath the hand of the magician fancy .
Hallowed by the music of Goldsmith and
Crabbe, village life is decked with images
the most delightful. It rises up, before u?
ever as they have painted it; the holiest,
kindest feelings live in its pages ; the relig
ious, aud domestic, the neighborly virtues
shines brightest there. The village church—
the village school—the village green !
sweet thoughts of gentleness and love, are
yet a kroawi ? Do ye exist only in the pare
minds which have so Bweetly shadowed ye
forth? Ah; how often have the inhabit
ants of the busy city, worn with the cares
of world, yearned for your peaceful joys,
kear village life. How often has the member
of refined society, satiated with gayety, long
ed for a retreat which he thinks can only be
founri among your shades. Yes !—the
mouii.-r over past joys—the roan or the
woman who has 6een the fleeting wealth of
| tne world depart, 6eeks fur obscurity and
I happiness in the village life.
The Slighted Maiden
M, P- an old soldier of atern and un
yielding disposition, decided to marry hia son
to the daughter of a fellow companion in
arms. Tne young man ha 4 conceived other
projects, and conlPacted another engagement,
but, through,excessive timidity, poor Arthur
did not dare openly to resist the com
mands of his father, whose first word
had been so brutally overwhelming, that he
parsed all the tune between the engagement
and the wedding, doing nothing but sighing
deeply. Mile. Fmraa L took his melan
choly for classic symptoms of love, and began
to adore him more than ever. On the morn
ing of the wedding, they repaired to the
house of the magistrate; Arthur was sad, re
served, and seemed to have formed seme des
perate resolution. Emma was in raptures.
Monsieur, the Mayor ofO the pre
liminaries being over, addressed the bride
groom the customary question :
"Arthur P ,do you consent to take
Emma L for your wife ?"
Arthur slowly raised his head, and ina
voice choked by emotion, but full and reso
lute, replied :
No!"
General excitement, scandal and scenes of
confusion prevailed. {They separated in dis
order, the indignant parents demanded an
explanation from M. P. , the father, who
seimed struck with apoplexy. As for Ar
thur he escaped and left for Paris.
Some days after, a young lady uscended
the stairs of a furnished hotel, llue Saint
Ilonore, She had inquired of the porter.for
M. Aithur P , who had arrived the ev
ening previous. It was Emma come to Pa
ris with her father aud M. P , in search
of her affianced who had so shamefully iD
suited her ; but she was alone now. She
rapped at the door of No. 17, and entered
without waiting for an tmswer. The young
roan was lying down reading a newspaper.
Emma walked directly up to the bed, and
drawing frutn under her shawl an enormous
horse pistol, which doubtless, she had stolen
from b-T father.
"Sir," said she to Arthur, her eyes Hash
ing lire, " you have insulted me; I demand
satisfaction; that satisfaction I exact pistol
in hand. Let us return to the Mayor of
C , both in wedding attire; he will put
you the usual question ; you will say 1 yes,
I wi!i sav ' no.' "
Emma brandished her pistol in both hands
T t was an argument. But, after all, it was
only her right, or nearly so ; at least such
was Arthurs opinion. He consented, and
left the same evening with his father, who
gnashed his teeth all the way. They ap
peared again before the Mayor—tho same
.magistrate. Arthur boldly answered "yes,"
and prepared his countenance, always bashful
cuough, in order to hear the reply of his be
trothed.
The Mayor continued Emma L '
do you consent ?" Emma answered " YJE6,'
in 'he most natural tone imaginable.
M. P , the father, is deiightod, and feels
a>>ured that a union commenced under such
auspices will end in a fairy tale !
One of Oss lan Dodge 's stories
We recent!v met our friend, Dr. J. J.
Lord, formerly of Boston, Mass The doctor
is notonTy compouduer of roots and "y arbs,"
but one of the finest poets in the land. He
has been a resident of this section for about
six years. During hi* first few years he was
extensively-engaged in buying wool, end, on
one occasion, becoming a little bewildered
Pith the multiplicity of crooked roads over
the bread praries, he rode up to a small cab
in, enclosed in a clump of locust trees, and
hailed a boy, perched on the top of a hen
coop, with :
"Hello, boy!"
"I reakon you're a stranger?" was the rc-
spomc.
"Look here, 6onny."
" I ain't your sonny."
''No, you ain't my sonny, but If you'l
jump down and come hero I'll give you a
dime,"
The boy sprang as if alighting from a
wasp's nest, and, coming up to the stranger,
exclaimed .
" Well, old lioss, what is it ?"
"I've lost my way and don't know where
I am. Can you tell ?"
"Yes. You,re sitting on that hoss."
Mr. Lord laughed at the boys wit, and
handed him the dime.
The boy took the money, looked upon it
with mingled feelings of wonder and delight,
and sa'd :
"I reckon you roust have a power of raon
ey ?"
"Why so?"
"Cause you slather it away so."
"What's your father's name ?" inquired
Mr. Lord.
"Bill Jenks." was the reply.
"All, yes. 1 know him, exclaimed Mr.
Lord. He grows wool, don't he ?"
"No ; but his sheep duz."
If you new me, my lad, you would be more
respectable in your replies. I'm a friend of
your father : my name >6 Lord.
1 0. yes," exclaimed the astonished and
delighted lad. "I've beam pap read about
you in tho Bible, ana starting for the house
on a dead run, ho bawled out at the top of
his lungs, Mother, mother, the Lord is out
hcie a hutLiick,u d las lost bis way."
TBR.MS: 81.00 XOEBZt. A.KTT.XTTJU:
? J Ft 3 PJJP > 1 J 11 Vjr
There are certain things in this world
which hare so uniformly turned out is the *
same way, that nobody dreams of their re
sulting in any other. In short they are set
down as •' matters of course." For exam
ple :
W hen a bank suspends specie payments,
it is always done for the public good, as a
matter of course.
If the said bank becomes irretrievably
insolvent, and is forced to liquidate its af
fairs, the directors publish a card stating that
the assests are amply sufficient to pay every
thing, as a matter of coarse.
People who put any degree of eonfidcnoe
in such statements are always deceived and
disappointed, as a matter of course.
When a man commits a murder, or a for
gery, and is detected and tried, he is proved
to be insane, as a matter cf course.
When a fire occurs, whether it provea de
structive of property or not, it is the work of
an incendiary, as a matter of coujse.
hen two locamotives come into collision
on a railroad, destroying each other, knock
ing half a dozen of cars to pieces, killing a
dozen passengers, and wounding twice as
many more, the public are promised full in
formation concerning the same, as a matter
of course.
W hen such information comes, if at all it
exculpates everybody from blame as a mat
ter of course.
W hen a quack medicine is invented, it is
tremendously puffed, as a matter of courso.
But everybody who believes one half that
is stated of its wonderful virtues, geta egre
giously humbugged, as a matter of course-
Every man of intelligence and common
sense is a subscriber to a newspaper, and, if
he is honest, he pays his subscription, as a
matter of course.
Mouthful Memories.
It is something inexpressibly delicious to
remember the locality ot childish and youth
ful years. Old trees and rocks,and old houses
and old faces, all form the most delightful
subjects of memory. It is curious to notice
how we misjudge the size of objects in thus
looking far back to them from the present
point of time. Houses that were small seem
to have been very large. Apple trees are
oaks in memory, and the hill that surround
ed a valley in which childhood grew to youth 1
seem Alpine in the retrospect. The column®
of an old verandah which a child's tiny arms
could not reach half way around, seem to the
man's memory as gigantic as the colums of a
temple ; for memories like these never take
into account the growth of the limbs as the
boy matures, and he is astonished when he
goes back and finds that now his brawny
arms will easy embrace the pillars, aud if
need be, / ear them down. The stream that
was a river to the tiny feet of the young girl
is but a brooklet after .11, when she goes
back to it, a full grown woman. The villago
milldara is a Niagara in memory. Such ar®
the illusions of home reflections. But not
such are the voices of the pac,. Sounds re
main familiar. The songs of the old hum®
are never forgotten. The whistling quail
down in the cornfield has not changed hi®
voice The gate that creaked on ita hinges
has the same old sound as it comes back '*
through the silent years. The wind in th®
tree-top soughs and sighs, and sobs as then.
I hose sounds are not apt to be forgotten.
■ ——..
JHEDKAR HARK IKS.— The army corres
pondent of the N. Y. Tribune , writing about
t e distinguished services of'Suaoked Yan
kees in guarding trains and prisoners, end
such like light and pleasant duty, says ;
"We have seen them on picket, their hands
clasped upon their muskets, looking out
with a watchful eye into the woods and field
which might conceal a lurking enemy We
have seen them upon the march in close
ranks, with elastic and willing steps, instrohg
contrast with tne loose, careless, ahuffliug
gait of our chosen veterans,"
The saying of a White Mountain
stage driver to a New Yorker sittiDg by him.
"I B 'P° se if I went to New York I should
gawk around just as you folka do here"— -
was not bad.
£3T When you see a gentleman at mid
uight on the step in th® front of his hous®
combing his hair with the door-scraper, you
may judge he has been out to au evening
party.
JEST It is a sad thing when men have
neither heart edough to speak well nor judg*
ment enough t> hold their tongues ; this is
the foundation of all impertinence.
" These are the sweets of matrimony," at
the man said when his wife threw tbo sugar
bowl at bis head.
C2C" Every roilroad has a smoking car.
It might save the feelings of ladies and
gentlemen if every one had also a swearing
car.
AN OPINION ABOUT GRANT.—Th® JVeis
Nation, the F emoirt organ, says : "Grant is
the complelest aud dearest failure of all th®
blunders mtdo by the A^lnioUt^ition. ,,
- j.' ■*' . V ?r* ■ '
YOL. 3, NO. 48
MATTERS or COURSE.