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AU TRANSIENT ADVERTISEMENTS and JOB
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ftosinfss sotirs.
re R. <b W. E LITTLE, ATTORNEYS AT
Lv LAW Office on Tioga street, TuukhanuockrV
9. COOPER, PHYSICIAN A SURGEON
• Newton Centre, Luzerno County Pa.
fIBO. 8. TIJTTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW
X Tunkhonnock, Pa. Office' n Stark's Brick
eek, Ttoga siieet.
\\T M. M. PIATT, ATTORNEY AT LAW, 0
f > fice in Stark's Brick Block Tioga St., Tunk
kanneck, Pa. s
&{jf SU£[)Ut §NUS£,
HARRISBURGf PKNNA.
The endersigned baring lately purchased the
••ffiUKHLER HOUSE " property, has already coui
■Meed such alterations ond improvements as will
render this old and popular House equal, if not supe
rior, to any Hotel in the City of Harrisburg.
A*continuance of the public patronage is refpect
fnlly solicited.
7 GEO. J. BOLTON
WALL'S HOTEL,
LATE AMERICAN HOUSE,
TUNKHANNOCK. WYOMING CO., PA
TUIS establishment has recently been refitted an
furnished in the latest style Every attention
will he given to the comfort and convenience ol those"
the petronice the House. .
T. B W ALL, Owner and Proprietor .
Tuakhanneck, September 11, 1661.
NORTH BRANCH HOTEL,
MESUOPPEN, WYOMING COUNTY, I*A
Win. H. CORTRIGHT, Prop'r
HAVING resumed the proprietorship of the abov.
Hotel, the undersigned will spare no effort to
feeder the houae an agreeable pluce ol sojourn f
all who may favor it with their custom.
Win H CORTRIGHT.
Jane, 3rd, 1863
stos Until,
TOWANDA, PA.
D- B- BARTLET,
(Late eft. "BRAINARD HOUSE, ELMIRA, N Y.
PROPRIETOR.
The MEANS HOTEL, i- one of tbe LARGEST
aad BEST ARRANGED House, in the country—lt
ie Itted up in the most modern and improved style,
aad ao pains are spared to make it a pleasant and
agreeable stopping-place for all,
v 3, nil, \y.
CLARKE, KEENEY
AAATRXCTURXAS AND WHOLESALE DEALERS IN
LADIES', MISSES' & BENTS'
fjHuiMasshiurf flats
AND JOBBERS IN
HATS. CAPS, FURS, STRAW GOODS,
{PARASOLS AND UMBRELLAS,
BUFFALO AND FANCY ROBES,
H49 PROADWAY,
CORNER OF LEONARD STREET,
a. r. CLABX, >
a. • KSSSST, [
A. IXKBSBT. J
M. GILMAiN,
iff OILMAN, ha. permanently located in Tank
I*la hannoek Borough, and respectfully tenderhi
profeisiooal service, to the cltixene of this placeand
■errounding country.
ALL WORK WARRANTED, TO GIVE SATIT
HON.
Office over Tutton's Law Offi e near the Post
ffiffioe
NEW
TAILORING SHOP
The Subscriber having had a sixteen years prac
lieal experience ip cutting end making clothing-
BSW emtrt Wr eerviee. in tlda line to the citizen, o-
VlcaobßON and vicinity.
AIM* wishing to get Fiu will find kia shop tbe
ytaee to get them.
W-UMvm.
JHT'S ©OWN 1 .
'•ASHES OP LIFE,"
I have all I could uish for, darling, yea, this i. a
beauti ul room,
Heavy silken hangings shut out the brooding gloom,
Velvet carpet, and rosewood, picture and music
here,
And Looks, aye, many a volume of author. I hold
most dear.
And 'tis only about a twelvemonth since I became a
wife,
And yet I am tired, so tired weary almost of
life;
A dumb, sick longing for something—what it is I
hardly know—
Think ng and blindly wondeiing why the dear God
male us so,
Why the world counts heart-throbs by what they
weigh in gold,
And lips smile gay and cheery when the heart is
dank and cold.
I am tired of all this splendor, sated with empty
show,
Hating myself for wishing and haviDg nowhere to
K°
John is always so busy he has never a moment to
spare
In a foolish caress, or even to praise my eyes and
hair
As he used to , well when one's married we must
not think of these,
Yet 'tis hard tAel ao - all alone" when ona tries ao
much to please.
I think sometimes I was happier in my old home by
the mill ;
1 can see the golden sunlight and fresh June rosea
still!
The river winding in and out, through the valley's
grassy woof,
And the elm tree's drooping pranches bending o'er
the mossy roof ;
Daisy, and Bet, and Brindle, down in the clover
lot,
An t a dreamy sweetness hanging o'er each dear
[emeuibered spot;
And .there in the little arbor, where I used to read to
Koy-
You remember him, d.n't you, Anderson's oldest
boy 1
Browning and Longfellow he loved, but, oh well, it
. was idle paly ;
Yet he's getting a f itn lawyer, down in Ilamp
stead nsw, thry My :
I used to thisk that 1 loved him—perhaps it was
but a whim—
But there's always a flutter at my heart e'en yet
when I think of him. •
And that is very seldom, for I kDew it is a sin,
But one cannot always stay the fire that femes so
wild within ;
And it seems somehow that destinies get strangely
jumbled up.
Some of ue sip from pleasure's and some from sor
row's cup.
Now I've told you uiora, my darling, tbn I've ever
told betorc.
And I'll shut my heart this moment, and open it
never more.
Tbe dear God's love and mercy is underlying it
all,
And he knows what is best for us who " noteth the
sparrow'e fall "
We muet learn to be patient— ch, sweet Chiist t
make us so,
And guide our weary footsteps where Thou would.!
hate us go.
Jlclcct Jstorg.
lIOQ,EET OF ROSES.
Walking in my garden the other day, I
stopped bi f 'r< a tree covered with yellow
rose*, and looking at them reminded rae of
a tale, which 1 will relate.
Two years since, I dropped iu to spend
my evening with an old lady who resides
near my house. She is a most charming
person—amiable, clever, witty, and charit
able in all things. She is passionately
fond of flowers; and yon will scarcely
credit the coquetry and gallantry I expend
in making boquets for her, nor how much
I rejoice at her surprise when i bring her
a flower of the name of which she is ignor
ant, or which is very uncommon in our
part of the country.
One evening, when I arrived at her
house, I found her seated with an old gen
tleman w ho had been residing on his prop
erty more than a year, —a handsome es
tate in the vicinity, which had been left
bun by a distant relative, on condition of
his taking tiie name cl his hi nefactor; con
sequently he was called Monsieur Di-seoud*
raies. lie had obtained an introduction to
mv old lady, and I had every reason to be
jealous of bis assiduities. They became
warm friends, and passed almost every eve
ning together, playing backgammon.
I bowed silently, on the evening in ques
tion, as I entered, not to interrupt the game,
When it was finished, I presented Madame
de Lorgerel a bouquet of yellow roses
which I had brought for her.
My roses were very Beautiful, and singu
larly so because the continued lains of ihe
season had blighted most of those of the
neighboring gardens ; butlhul taken the
precaution of sheltering mine by a shed:
and they were, perhaps, the on.y ones to be
met with in perfection. Madame deL<>r
gerel uttered an exclamation of d'-light
• hen she saw she beautiful l.oquet. Mon
sieur Deseoudries said nothing, but seemed
preoccupied. I looked at him with sur
prise, not well able to comprehend the mys
tenons influence of my yellow roses. Mad.
de Lorgerel shortly afterwards spoke of
' something else; and 1 thought 1 ha i been
j mistaken.
A minute or two subsequently Monsieur
Descoudraies suddenly burst out laughing,
and said, " (Tould you believe that this bou-
"TO SPEAK HIS THOUGHTS IS EVERT FREEMAN'S RIGHT. M -Thi
TUNKHANNOCK, PA., WEDNESDAY, OCT. 10, 1866
quet has evoked a9 by magic, an entire ep
och of my youthful days? For five min
utes 1 was only, in imagination, twenty
years of age, —for five minutes I became
again in love with a woman, who, if she ex
ists, must be at least sixty years of age. I
must tell you this history ; It is one which
has had an immense influence on my life,
and of which the memory, even now,moves
me in an extraordinary manner, —even
now, when my blood has only just warmth
enough to keep rae alive, an<i enable me tu
play back-gammon. I was twenty, —that
is more than forty years since,—l had just
quitted college, where young men were
kept a little longer thrn they are in the
present day. After well weighing the mat
ter—but without consulting me, —my fath
er decided on my future path in life, and
announced to me one morning that he had
obtained a lieutenancy for me in the
regiment, then iu the garison in Ave r gne,
and desired me to be ready t leave in
three (lays. 1 was not a little taken back,
for several reasons. In the first place I
disliked a military career; but that objec
tion the sight o! a dashing uniform would
soon have overcome; added to it. a few
ambitious hopes excited, and a little mu
sic, would, all combined, have mad either*
a Ceasar or an Achilles of rae. But I was
in love. Nothing in the world could lave,
induced me to utter a word of this to tny
father, whose only reply to such a confiden
tial communication would have been to
send me away that very night. But I had
an uncle—and what an unci-! He was
then a man of the same age that I atn now ;
but he was still young,—not for himself,
for no old man ever renounced Satan and
all his pomps and works better than he
did, —but for others. He loved the young
and perfectly understood, without being
jealous of them. He did not deem the in
tirmalies of age a progress ; neither did he
think length of years necessary to be wiao.
From exce-sive goodness and good sense
he lived in the happiness of others. He
was ever fond of sympathizing with the no
ble and generous follies of youth ; he was
the confidant and protector of all true lov
ers, of those harmless debts young men
contract, and all of youths hopes and fears
I went to hira, and said, "Uncle, I am very
unhappy!"
" I bet twenty lonis you are not," was
the reply.
" Ah, uncle, don't laugh! Besides, you
would lose."
"It 1 lose I'll pay ; and perhaps that
would help to console you."
•' No, uncle, money has nothing to do
with my grief"
"Come, tell me your tale."
"My father has just informed me that I
have a lientenancv in the regiment."
'• What a dreadful misfortune! One of
the most gallant regiments i n the service
—a handsome uniform, and all the officers
are men of rank."
"Uncle, I don't wish to be a ■oldicr."
"Howl Yon d.rn't wish to serve ? Do
you happen to be a coward?"
"I don't know yet; nevctheless, you
are the only man whom I would permit to
address such a question to rae."
"Veiv well, then, Cid, my good friend,
why don't you be a soldipr ?"
"Uncle, because I want to marry"
"Oh!'
"There's no oh in the question. Uncle
I'm in love."
"And you call that a misfortune ! Un
grateful wretch! I should like to be in
love ! And prav who is the object of your
ardent flame ?"
"Ah, uncle, she's an—"
"I know she is, of course, —it is always
an angel ! A little later in life you will
prefer a woman. But bv what mortal
name do ynu call this angel?"
"She is called Noeini, uncle."
"That is not what I ask you. Noemi
is enough for yon, I quite comprehend ;
besides, it's pretty name. But fot me,
I must know who this angel is, and to
what family she belongs ? What is tbe
family name.* 1 '
"'Tis Mademoiselle Amelot."
"Thai's better than an angel,—a bru
nette. tall and slight, with eyes like black
velvet, I d'>n't at all disapprove of the
object of your aff cti >n."
"Alt, Uncle, did yon know her soul?"
"I know, —I understand alll about it.—
And does she return your affection, as we
u*ed to say ? Is that still what ycu young
ones call it ?"
"I don't know, uncle "
"How! You don't know, nephew, un
worthy of an uncle like myself? How ?
You are every day in her house, and don't
know yet whether you are loved."
"She does not even know that I love
her."
"Oh, in that idea you are not mistaken,
mv handsome nephew, an 1 comprehend
nothing of woman's nature! She knew it
at least a quarter of an hour before you
did so yourself."
"All 1 know uncle, is, that I shall kill
myselt unless she marries me !"
"O, oh ! (Tell, then, I can tell you
that there exists many chances against
your union. Y'our father is tnqoh richer
than her 9; and will not give his consent"
" (Tell, t ten, I know the ouly thing that
is left rae to do."
"C'o.ue, come, li-ten to me. Let us see,
don't go and commit any act of folly. Let
us look into the business."
"I am all attention, uncle."
"In the first place, then, you cannot
marry at twenty years of age."
" (Thy not, for goodness sake I"
"Because I don't choose yon should do
so. And, without me, this marriage can
not take place."
"O, my good, dear uncle !"
"If she loves you, and you will promise
to wait three years—"
"Three years?"
"Don't argue with me, or I will say
four. If she will promise to wail three
years, you shall join your regiment, but
not at Clermont, I will get you an ex
cha'.ge into one a few leagues from Paris ;
and you shall come here once every three
months until the expiration of the given
time."
"But how am I to know whether she
loves me ?"
"How are you lo find it out? By ask
ing it, to be sure !"
"Ah, dear uncle, I never dare do so !"
"Then obey pour father, and pack up
your portmanteau."
"But you do not know tbe girl. A hun
dred times I wished to tell her I loved her.
I have bitterly blamed myself for my tim
idity. I tried everything to gain courage
to speak ; I learned my speeches by heart;
I wrote piles ofletters; out, when the mo
ment arrived, the first word I endeavored
to utter choked me, and I began speaking
of something else.
She had so sw eta look, and yet so
stern, that it seemed to me she could not
love. As for the letters, it was far worse
At the moment I attempt to give them, I
found them so stupid that nothing appear
ed diminutive enough to tear them into,
lest a word should appear against rae."
" Well, but, my boy, you must decide at
last, and for this reason—your father has
not confided all to you. If he sends you
to deimont it is because the colonel of
your regun-'nt is a friend of his, ..ml has a
daughter, and this daughter is destined for
you, because it will be a good and rich mar
riage. But don't answer me ; I know all
this is nothing when we love. 'Tis a very
stupid thing to think thus, and love disin
terestedly ; but I should be sorry not to
have been guilty of so doing. Only men
of biassed minds are incapable of tbe like
I know the old call these delusions; but
who knows whether it is not they who are
self-deceived? The glass which diminish
es objects is not more true than the one
which enlarges them. If she loves you,
you should sacrifice everything for her. It
will be very foolish to do so, but quite
right ; and you must do it ; but first find
out whether she loves you. and you have
an excellent opportunity of doing so. Thev
wish to make Iter marry, nepew,—you
turn pale at this idea ! You would like to
have, this odious rival at sword's length
Well, then try and gain a little of this not
able courage in the presence of vour fair
Noemi They want her to marrv; you
are richer tl*an she, hut the man they pro
pose to give her is richer than yourself,
besides being titled and quite ready (the
wedding clothes and presents arc also;)
whereas they would he obliged to wait for
you. Now go and seek Noemi, tell her
you love her, —she knows if, but it is, nev
ertheless, a thing always told. Ask her if
she returns your affection; and tell her—
for she must love yon, I am sure—you are
young, handsome and witty. Ask her to
promise solemnly to wait three years for
you, but to write to me, and I will keep the
hitter. I will then break off your marriage
with the colonel's daughter. I will get
your exchange ; and despite your father, in
three years you shall marry Noemi!"
"Uncle, I've an idea."
"Let's hear it."
"I'll write to her."
"Just as you please, my boy ; only act
at once.
"1 quitted mv uncle, and went to write
my epistle. This was not the most diffi
cult task. I had written fiftv letters to her
before, though I had never fo-warded them
The most embarrassing circumstance was
to ser.d or give it. Nevertheless, as there
was no time to be lost. I made tip my mind,
and, purchasing a bouquet of yellow roses,
placed the note in the centre of them It
is very silly, hut I seemed even now to live
over the time again in memory. After the
avowal of my love, I besought her to love
me, make nie happy, and wait three years
for me. I implored her, if she consented,
that evening to wear one of the yellow
roses in her bosom. "I shall then dare to
speak to you," I said, and tell what you
must do to securs my happiness. 1 dare
not say our*."
"And you put the note in the bouquet?"
asked Madam tie Lorgerel.
"Yes, madam,"
"And then ?"
"Well, then , in the evening Noemi had
no rose in her bosom ! I wanted to kill
mvself, but my uncle carried me off to
Clermont. He remained two months with
me, mixed with the young officers, and
ended by calming my sorrow and disap
pointment, by proving to me that Noemi
had never loved me. "But, uncle," I said,
"she was—she appeared happy when I ar
rived, and reproaohed me gently for com
ing late."
"Women," continued Monsieur Des—
couiraies, "love the devotion of all the
world ; but there are those th y never love
In short, I ended by almost forgetting her.
Then I married the colonel's daughter,who
died eight years after our marriage ; and
now lam quite alone, for my uncle has
bee.i dead a long .irae, - would you believe
I often think of Noemi ? and—that which
is more serious and absurd—l always tee
her in imagination as a youn<* girl of sev
enteen, with her dark brown hair, and, aa
my uncle said, her eyes like black velvet!
JFhereas, if living, she must be now an old
woman."
Yon don't know what has become of
her?"asked Madame de Lorgerel.
" Not"
" Your name then i not Des coudraies?"
she hastily inquired.
"No ; that is the name of the property
left me by my uncle. My name ia Ed tu ond
d'Altbiem."
"So it is 1"
"How do you kuow ?"
"I will tell you," ahe added, without re
plying to his question, "what has become of
Noemi."
"Can you ?"
"Yes : she loved you !"
"But the yellow rose ?
"fShe did not see the uote. Your hasty
departure caused her many tears ; then,
afterwards, she married Monsieur de Lor
gerel."
"Monsieur de Lorgerel ?"
"Yes, Monsieur de Lorgerel, whose wid
ow I am to-day."
T Fhat! you Noemi Amelot ?"
"Alas ! yes, as truly as you arc, aud are
not like, Edmond d'Altbiem !"
"Good gracious ! who would ever have
thought that a day could arrive in which
we should not recognize each other ?
"Yes, it is 6trange, is it not ? And only
reunited to play backgammon !"
"But the bouquet ?"
"The bouquet is here. I always preserv
ed it."
And Madame de Lorgerel went to a cup
board, and, opening a box in ebony, took
out a faded bouquet. She trembled as
•he did so.
"Untie it ! untie it!"' said Monsieur De -
coudraies.
She untied the bouquet, and found the
note which had been hidden there forty-two
years ! Both of them remained silent. I
wished to go, but Monsieur Discoudraies
rose.
Madame de Lorgerel took his hand, and
said : "You are right. We must not let
this memory of youth in our hearts pass be
fore two old face* like ours. Let us avoid
anything so ridiculous which would de
grade the noble sentiment which will, per
haps, make us happy the remainder of our
lives. Do not return for some days."
Since that evening, Descoudraies and
Madame de Lorgerel scarcely ever quitted
each others society.
There exists between them a sentiment
such as I never before beheld. They go
over together all the minute details of that
one which -was never explained or express
ed. They have a thousand things to tell
each oilier. They love iu retrospection.—
They would much like to be married; but
they dare not, so much does ridicule often
mar out the purest wishes.
N. B. —Young ladies, always untie and
well examine any anonymous bouquet you
may receive; for a lover is more agreeable
at twenty than at sixty; and foity years of
expectation is really no joke!
A FATAL DRINKING IFAGER— A fool
ish wager was made at a wine shop which
resulted in death. At a breakfast, where
the conversation turned on the quantity of
drink which a person could take, a Brick
layer, named Florentine, made a bet that
he would drink twelve glasses of wine
when the clock of the Tuileries was stri
king twelve. He drank thrae glasses be
fore the clock had struck three times. At
the next glass he stopped to breathe. At
the seventh he began to driuk more slowly
but, making an effort he drank of the
eighth glass. He then turned very pale,
and breath'd with difficulty. His friends
wished to stop the wager, but he said he
would go on, come what miebt, and SWAI
lowed the ninth glass. lie had hardly
emptied the glass when he fell down
.senseless. A surgeon was sent for; but
in spite of all his efforts, the foolish man
died in three hours.
WHAT THE HEART IS. — The heart is
like a plant in the tropics, which all the
year round is bearing flowers, and ripening
seeds, and letting them fly. It is shaking
off memories and dropping associations.
The joy l of last year are ripe seeds that will
come up in joy again next year. Thus the
heart is planting seeds in every nook and
corner ; and as a wind which serves to
prostrate a plant is only a sower coming
forth to sow its leeds, planting some of
them in rocky crevices, some by river
courses, some among mossy stones, some
by warm hedges, and some in garden and
open field, so it is with our experience of
life that sway and bow us either with joy
and Forrow. They plant everything round
aoout us with heart seeds. Thus a house
becomes sacred. Every room hath a
memory, and a thousand of them; every
door and window is clustered with associa
tions.
—
POWER OF GENTLENESS. — No bad man
is ever brought to repentance bv angry
word*—by bitter, scornful reproaches.—
He fortifies himself against reproof, and
hurls back foul charges in the face of his
accuser. Yet, guilty and hardened as he
seems, he has a heart in bis bosom, and
may be melted to tears by a gentle voioe,
(Those, therefore, can restrain his disposi
tion to blame and find fault, and can bring
himself down to a fal'en brother, will soon
find away to better feelings within. Pity
| and Patience are the two keys which tm
i lock the human heart. They who hare
been most successful laborers among the
poor and vicious, have been the moet for
bearing.
"Belles" call a giaat many people to
tfcarefc-
TJDZtMSv Sfi.OO JPUHL AimT3M
VOL. 6 NO. 10
A WORD TO WIVES.
Little wives ! if ever a half suppressed
sigh finds place with you, or a half-unlov
ing word escapes you to the husband whom
you love, let your heart go back to some
tender word in those first love-days; re
member how you loved him then, how ten
derly he wooed you, how timidly you re
sponded ; and if you can feel that you have
not grown ur.worlhy, trust him for the
same fond love now. If you do feel that
through many cares and trials of life you
have become less lovable and attaactive
than you then were, turn—by all that you
love on earth, or hope for in heaven— turn
back, and be the pattern of loveliness that
won him ; be the "deai one" your attrac
tions made you then. Be the gentle, lov
ing, winning maiden still, and doubt not the
lover you admired will live forever in your
husband. Nestle by his side, cling to his
love, and let his confidence in you never
fail; and my word for it, the husband will
be dearer than the lover ever was. Above
all things, do not forget the love he gave
you first. Do not see kto "emancipate."
A LAW JOKE—A lawyer of fluid ten
dencies was discussing some nice point of
law, and getting out of patience at the ina
bility of the court to take his own view of
it, said the intellect of the court was so dark
a flash of lightning could not penetrate it.
The judge, being a new-comer, and not
knowing tbe peculiarities and failings of
the man, imposed a severe punnishment on
him for contempt of court. Some of tbe
lawyer's friends stated the case to his hon
or, and the punishment was remitted on
the condition that he should publicly apolo
gize to the court. lie was accordingly
brought up the following morning, and
made amends by sayinor.—
4t l regret very much that I said, in the
heat of the moment, that the intellect of the
court was so dark lightning could not pen
etrate it. I guess it could ; it is a very
penetrating thing."
|jg" Music is one of the fairest and most
glorious gifts of God, to which Satan is a
bitter enemy, for it removes from the heart
the weight of sorrow and the fascination
of evil thoughts Music is a kind and gen
tle sort of discipline; it refines the passion
and improves the understanding. Those
who love music are gentle and honest in
their tempers. I always loved music, and
would not for a great matter be without this
littie skill which I possess iu the heavenly
art.
MODESTY AND PRESUMPTION*. —The
modest deportment of those who are truly
wise, when contrasted with the assuming
air ot the young and ignorant, may be com
pared to the different appearance of wheat,
which, while its ear is empty, holds up its
head proudly, but as soon as it is filled
with grain, bends modestly down, and
withdraws from observation.
A SENSIBLE MAN. —A Jerseyman was
very sick, and was uot expected to recov
er. His friends got around his bed, and
one of tbem says, "John, do you feel wil
ling to die !" John made an effort to give
his views on tbe subject, and auswered
witu hisfcebe voice, "I—think—l'd rither
staj —where I'm better acquainted."
A little girl,after having been to chnrch
was very fond of preaching to her dolls.—
Her mother overheard her one day reprov
ing one for being so wicked. "Oh, you
naughty sinful child," she said, shaking its
waxen limbs. "You'll just go to that place
of brimstone and molasses, and you won't
burn up—you'll just sizzle."
t3T "Did tbe rainisler put a stamp on
you when you was married, Mary ?"
"A stamp, Charlie! What for, pray ?"
"Why, matehes ain't legal without A
stamp, yon know !"
CONSOLING A WIDOW.—A clergyman
consoling a widow on the death of her hus
band, remarked that she could not find his.
equal.
"I don't know about that," remarked the
sobbing fair one," but I'll try."
A Coquette treats a lover like a bo
qut —carries him about a certain time tor %
amusement or show, and then quietly picks
him to pieces.
tW A young lady of this town, a short
time ago, in a fit of desperation, hung her
self to a limb—of the law.
Black men are not always proud. On®,
of them presided at a radical meeting in
Oberlin, Ohio.
|g* Mrs. Veal, who had lately given
birth to a son, was offended at a neighbor's
inquiry for the health of her young calf.
An eminent German musician says
there are better judges of ransic in the
United States, better critics and better
performers than can be found in Europe.
The Chicago papers tell of a dog (
that was taken from that vicinity across
the plains to California, but did'nt like the
country and footed it back to his old home.
tar An old mdid is like an odd boot—
of no use without a fellow.