®he Slortlt Branch Bcmoaat XXATIVEY SICKLER, Proprietor, NEW SERIES, A weekly Dewocratia , paper, devoted to I'oh ggjgga ' 1 cs News, tho Arts tnd Sciences Ac. Pub- *lB * J li.-heJ every Wednes- ' NgL * day, ut Tunkhannoek fwSm Wyoming County,Pa =/ \' V {T?f. ! J R BY HARVEY SICKLER SiK Terms 1 copy 1 year, (in advance) $'.2,00 if net paid within six months, t2.50 will be chaged NO paper will be DISCONTINUED, until all ar ear igos are paid; unless at the option of publisher. ADV 1L&?: ISTGc * 10 lines or 'll less, make three f onr ( iro three ' six one one square moth year 1 Square 1,00 1,25: 2,25, 5,00 2 do. u { i •?„ 6,00 3 do. 3,0. ; 3??' 4 75' 5 > 50: 7, ?° 9 :°° i Column. 4,00 4.nv C,o" j> ; 00 j 9 '®? i Jo. 0,00 (i.50 10.0 1 ' '-V '}' J[ f ' 25,00 I do. B,oo' 7,(2 14.(Ml 13,00 2a,00 35,00 1 do. 10,00 12,00! 17,00 22 00,28.00 40,00 EXECUTORY, A DMTNISTR A'l'ORS and AI'DI COR'o NOTICES, of the usual length, 62,50 OBITUARIES,- ex jeoding tun lit, s, each ; 11EEI GlOrSaud LITERARY NOTTCES, not of genera nterost, o;.o L tlf tue regular rates. llusLf st nrls of one square, wtth paper. 63. JOB WOH.K of all kin Is neatly executed, and at prices to suit he times. A'l TRANSIENT ADVERTISEMENTS and JOB WORK trust be paid for, when ordered jln.siiif.ss JlotiffS. |> K.lt W iIITTLR, ATTORNEYS AT 5 t LAV*Office on Ttoga Street Tunkhannwck I'n >S. 5M VTT. ATTORNEY AT LAW Of >s i;-o ir Stark" Uric'. IE. :k Tioga St., Ttytk h tnnock, Pa. r_T s. COOPER, PIII'SICIAN A SURGEON t_ I • Newton Centre, Luzerno County Pa. ATTORNEY AT LAW, I' Otii-c at the Caurt lljuse, in Taukhannock Wyoming Co. Pa. T in . RfIOADS, PHYSICIAN ,v SURGEON, •J • will attend prwptly t i all eatla in his pro fession, Mi >e • :i ! at hisOffi'-- at the Dm; Store, (i- i '• eon I'utmin Sieet, formerly occupied by A. K. Piettti ftj. f* i* &*'T i y' l v '• y "i ■ f-; T ' f . " j, - DP.. L T. Kl RNS h - peruMuldwtiy l---.ttcd in I'unki, i-.ih " K lioruugo, .u. 1 i . Gully l.uders his profess.■ nal services to it i. Office on second fo,.i, i> ,i_ occu; ici l y Dr. Wiluian. v(iu3Ctf. T'lf ItteWft Itom o o C7<* H All HI sunu;, PEN NA. The nn-I -r-'trne 1 h ring lately purchased (he "P' 1 i: " -E " property has already eorn meuced • > a alterati. u- and improvements as will ren ler this old i 1 pop tl • li ... • f.pial. if not suj.o rior, t . . v tlotel in too Cii\ „f Harrisl.urg. Aeontinuanoe of the public patronage isrefpei t fully solicited. GEO. J. BOLTON " WALL'S HOTEL, LATE AMERICAN HOUSE, T I! MiIIANNOCK, WYOMING CO., PA. rHIS et .blirhincr.t be? recently been refitted an furnished ; n ti> > latest style. Every attention will l,e given to the comfort and convenience of those who patronize the Jt >u- •. T. 15. Y.'Al L, Owner and Proprietor : Tankhannoek, September 11, 1961. South branch hotel, MESHOPPLN, \\\ OMINti COUNTY, PA Wm. 11. COKTIt IGHT, Prop'r HAVING rt-ae i tie proprietorship of the above II 'el, the 4u SerTgiK-il will c paro no efforts lender the 1 use an groca .le place ot sojourn to all who may favor it with their custom. Win. II CORTRIGHT. Jane, 3rd, 1 63 fjto* SfM, J>. B. BARTLET, (Late eft. PnitAisAßn IIOVSK, ELMIKA, N. Y. PROPRIETOR. The MEANS HOTEL, i one of the LARGEST and BEST ARR ANGED Houses in the country—lt if fitted up in the must modern and improved style, and no pains are spared to make it a pleasant and agreeable i .ppiug-place for all, v 3, u2l, ly. Remedial Institute IOR SPECIAL CASES. J\b. /A 'Monti street, A'eff York. tY I ; u| i lotbrni ition, with the highest testimo nials : also, a ]J.,ok u[\ Special Diseases, iu a seat ed enrehipe, sent It . j~r ]{e^ ure and send far t them, an 'you trill not regucl it ; for, as adver tising pliysici.ins are g<-;„ illy impostors, without reference* no stranger - nul lbe trusted Enclose a stamp tor p.stage and aire. -i v p>li.. LAWRENCE No. 14 Bona Street, New Voik. \6nlslyr., NEW TAILCnINS Sjd OP The Subscriber having La 1 a sixteen years prac tieal experience in cutting and making clothing now offers hi.-: services in this line to the citizens of NICHOLSON ADvl viyinity. Those wishing t., get'Pit3 will find his shop the place to get them. . . n r Sozv, R, SMITH vsnao-(knos HELMBOLD'S FLUID EXTRACT BCCHU is pleasant in taats and odor, free trom all injurious | propertie#, and immediate ia its aotioa. "TO SPEAK HIS THOUGHTS IS EVERY FREEMAN'S RIGHTS. "—Thomas Jefferson, COURTING AN EMIGRANT FEMALE IN WASHOE. [From the California Golden Era.] Our Washoe bachelors are always on the qua vive duritig the la9t months of sum mer and the first and second fall months,- when the emigrant trains are rolling in off the plains with whole troops of of sun browned damsels. The girl- hare all heard that the chan ces for getting husbands are "awful good in Washoe." They know there are sights" of chances, so they begin primp ing shortly after passing Independence Rock, and by the time they strike the wa ters ot the Carson they're in a perfect state of wriggle. My friend Condrick wanted a wife, lie wanted a piece of "unsophistoca ted calico from the states." lie talked much of when the trains would arrive, and of pretty emigrant girls. He swore he would "gobble one up this fall, sure." At last it was reported that a big train w r as camped on the Carson, two miles be yond Dayton. Condrick mounted his mustang and de parted with alacrity. The report proved true, and what was hotter, "Women absolutely abounded," as Condrick afterwards informed me in bis enthusiastic way. lie rode among tho tents and wagons, ostensibly much concerned to know exact ly the state, county and town from wnich each family bailed, but in reality taking notes of the finer points of all the mar riageable looking females in camp. At last lie struck one that suited him to a dot. Long afterwards, he said to me with a grout sigh, which he tried to smother in a laugh, "Oh ! she was a clipper! Trim as a gazelle; lithe a a willow; cheeks which (though sun browned) showed a peachy ruddiness; with eyes! ah! such great brown swimming eyes! that drove your soul down into your boots, dragged jour heart up into your throat and left you speechless and slaughtered." To this sumptuous female Condrick laid siege. II is progress was good. As the shades of evening settled down upon valley and hill, he and his charmer took a stroll. As they walked along the meandering banks of the Carson, the full face of the moon rose up from behind the eastern hills All nature seemed filled and quivering with love. Love d.inecd in the rays of moonlight that glanced on the stream ; the willows rustled their leaves to the passing breezes and so swiftly told the story of their love that even the restless winds were for a while enticed to*linger, forgetful of their journey; enamored night hawks were dimming the love-laden air in voluptuous circles, rays of languishing light gleaming in answering flashes from their lazy wings; crickets, peeping irom their holes iu neigh boring hillocks, chirped to each other in mellow, tremulous notes on the ripe and gushing love of their surcharged hearts; beetles, crazy with love, thundered hoarse ly their plaints of the tender pain that racked their mailed bodies, and the sweet honey-dew of Heaven fell softly into the heart cup that each meek plant held trust ingly up. The sympathetic hearts of the lovers ac knowledge the tender influence surround ing them, and shared tho sweet thrills with which all nature quivered. Slowly the pair, in fond discourse wan dered on. What throbs of affection stirred Con di ick's heart! What fires of love burned in Condi ick's eyes. . j \s his charmer leaned trustingly upon Ins arm, Heaven seemed to descend and rest on the lower and uearest hills. As the murmur of a bee in a rose was her voice to his soul. Seating themselves on agrassy bank,they gazed together on the darkling eddies of the gliding stream In the glowing colors Condrick painted for the fair being at his side, a picture of the wonderful wealth hidden within the rocky vaults of the Whipporwill mine. Charmed by his eloquence and absorbed in the contemplation of the picture he placed before her, she forgot all else, and gradually her beautiful head dropped— dropped lower and lower—and finally rest ted upon his bosom—his manly chest. Great Heaven ! A thrill darted through his frame and so affected him that it was only by a tremenduous effort that he could smother the volcano of emotions swelling within his bosom. lie felt a desire to bound to his feet and utter a wild whoop ! But he didn't. No ; he constrained his emotion ; he re sisted the impulse. Her head was now fairly and snugly nestled upon his breast. As she lay gazing into his handsome face, her parted tresses of rich brown fell back ward in affluent waves from her broad fore head, uukissed by the sun and of marble texture and whiteness. Her great liquid eyes looked into his and he gazed down in to their unfathomable depths till all the past all Uie future seemed to center there. Heaven came down still lower and rest ed on the valtey. But this could not always last. lie felt that it could not. She seemed expecting something. Iler great eyes closed wearily and the silken fringes of their curtains rested on her TUNKHANNOCK, PA-, WEDNESDAY, MAY 15, 1867- cheek. lie wa9 happy as he was, but ho couldn't be as he was forever. She seemed to have the same thoughts. She lightly raised hsrhead. Its pres sure on his chest was not so great as for merly. He was distressed. Would she rise ? Was he about to lose her ? The thought was agony. His head grew dizzy. . He felt himself standing on a precipice, lie was losing his balance. He was topping over. Courage! lie gasped—gasped out his tale of love. It was not a long one. But it was to the point. She sighed—sighed a long, long, tre menduous, convulsive sigh. But she said nothing. In a murmuring tone, he asked her if she hadn't some feelings of the same kind for him. She put her arms about his neck, and hiding her sweet face in his shirt front, sobbed out in a broken voice that was what ailed her Heaven let go all holds, and fell at his feet. Here followed several deep, searching, delicious kisses. [For the gratification of my readers,and that they may know the exact number and duration of the kisses, I have put them all down, They were as follows, rep resenting their number, and the dashes the duration of each ;_******_•_* *** *** ** *_*_* * *f: **•.* *. It will be observed that the last one was of immense length. It has a tail tojit like a comet. I am not sure that it was not even longer than I have repre sented. Condrick is not even snr6 about it. He thinks about here he was insensi ble for a time.] After all these kisses came an awkward pause. The situation to be sure was not an un happy one. But again my friend felt that it was time for something more. lie had made the leap from one precipice —another was before him. He was tottering to its brink. He must speak of marriage. llow would she take that ? She had acknowledged that 6he loved him. Good ! This gave him courage lie gasped, and chokingly gulped out the question —in fear, and with his eyes slight; ly closed. She clasped him more tightly about the neck, and sighed deeply. Poor Condrick ! all sorts of fears attack ed him. The very blood in his 4 heart seemed con gealing. lie felt a drop of something moist fall on bis band. At first he thought her nose was bleed ing. lie held his hand aloft in the moonlight, and on it beheld a glittering tear. He felt better then. His heart gave a great leap, and he said : —"Thank Heaven !" He was now much encouraged. He agaiu made inquiry as to her love for him. She said then, in words, that she loved him—"Oh, so, so much !" which for a tinae comforted liirn greatly. Condrick now began to urge immediate marriage. She objected, but clung more closely to him, and said, "Wait awhile." Condrick wanted to know if there was any obstacle to their immediate union. She kissed him [*** * *]aud said there was aslight one. lie then tenderly kissed her [** *]and if they oould not be mar ried in a week. She raised her great swimming eyes to his face and gazed fondly upon him, but said nothing. Her pouting lips were in tempting prox imity to his own [** * * *]. lie now repeated his question, when in an agonized voice, she cried ont: "Oh ! dear, I can't tell ! I've got aphth isicy old cuss of a husband out in one of them wagons, and he's just spiteful enough to live a month yet /" Condrick is still a bachelor, lie had a bad spell of something like mountain fever the next day after he visi ted the emigrant train—at least, he went off into the mountains, and shunned man kind and womankind for about two months. But lie is all right now. .—— The little I have seen of the world, and know of the history of mankind, teaches me to look upon the errors of oth ers in sorrow, not in anger. When I take the history of one poor heart that has sinned and suffered, and represented to myself the struggles and temptations it has passed through, the brief pulsation of joy, the feverish inquietude of hope and fear; the pressure of want; the desertion of friends ; the scorn of the world ; threatening vices within—health gone— happiness gone —even hope that remains the longest gone—l would fain leave the erring soul of my fellow man with him from whose band it came.— Longfellow. A good heart is indispensably nec essary to the knowledge ot truth ; he who finds nothing can learn nothing. A WOMAN'S LOVE. "A woman's love !" Bah !it is as ev anescent as a snow-flake, and about as warm ! Whoever heard of a woman dy ing for the man she loved, except in sto ries where such a circumstance merely ex isted in the writers own silly brain ? Look at those women in there, Ralph ! Do you suppose their thoughts ever rise above the furbelows on their heads f Humph! That is their seventh heaven 1" Will Harke's lip curled scornfully as he looked in at the open window on a gay, langhing, chatty party of the sex he was abusing. Will Harks was a crusty old bachelor, fair reader, as you might know, for none but a sour, narrow-minded speci men of that order, or a chicken-hearted, henpecked husbend would have made the above assertions. "Hush!" Ralph Delane laid his hand on Will's arm, and looked sternly into the surprised face of his friend. Then raising his great, dark eyes, he looked in at the French window, with its silken draperies and rich lace. His eyes rested on a slight, little body, half reclining on the crimson velvet cushion sofa, her face lit up with a bright smile as she listened to some merry talc or other. Brown eyes and hair, a sweet witching little mouth —no wonder the gray eyes grew dark and tender as they gazed on the beautiful picture. Cine little white hand was caressing the great Newfoundland dog that Sat by her side, the other was resting in a silken sash.— Poor, little withered hand! its work was over. We will listen to its story. "Will, do you see her—my wife? I will tell you of a woman's love! Y'ou will take back your hasty words when you hear it. You remember w'uen we were married, and how soon I enlisted after that had taken place ? Well, it was our first qnarrel that sent me away, Dou't shrug your shoulders, aud smile in that sarcastic way, but hear my story. It was ab'nt such a silly, frivolous thing, I will not mention it. But you know my proud, stern temper, and Effie in there was the most wilful, obstjpate, and tantalizing little piece that ever breathed. She would have died rather than relinquish anything she had set her heart on, and I—Will, I should have borne with her—she was but a child —scarce eighteen when I married her. I was very stern and cold with her. I thought she would grow tired, and come back to my arms again ; but I was wrong. The child grew thin and pale, but she wouldn't unbend from her stately dignity. Oh. we lived along in such a miserable wav, and just then I was offered a cap taincy iD the volunteers, and in a tit fit of desperation I accepted. I said noth ing to Elfie, but she found it out someway. I saw it in her eyes, and yet the little white teeth were shut closely together, as tbou"h thev would never open to speak loving words to rac again. The moraing T was to start I sought her out, thinking "she will not —cannot let me go without one word of peace between us!" Her face was white and cold, her small hands were clenched together so tight the nails pierced hor tender flesh, but she bowed coldly to me, and 1 returned it—that was our part- 1 inf ? In my cruel selfishness and con ceit, I never thought that I was to blame ; that if I would open my arms, she would fly back to her resting-place. My poor little bird ! 1 went away the most wretch ed being on the face of the earth, and vow ed that if Death did not find me in my first battle, it would not be my fault. We had been in camp only a few weeks when a lot of recruits arrived to fill out our companv, as fine a set of fellows as I ever saw. Among their I noticed a frail, girlish looking boy, with great soft brown eyes, that dropped like a girl's when you look at them. Somehow they made me think of Eflie's eyes. That was why I took such a fancy to them, I think. His face looked pure and innocent, as if it had never been away from a mother's loving 'care before, and I thought, "What will this sensitive spirit do among these rough men? *1 will take him into my own tent and care for him as for a brother." I sent for him that night, and finding him well educated, I told him I would keep hira as my clerk. "He should be my tent mate," I said smiling. He crimsoned, and finding my gaze embar rassed him, I went on talking carelessly, and found his name to be Ellis Lee. lie would tell me no more of his history. From that time he was always with me, ar.d I grew to love the boy as though he belonged *o me. He won all the men's hearts by his gentle, timid ways, and they never were rude or rough when he was near, but grew gentle as tbey would in their far-oft'homes in the presence of moth ers and sisters. He would share every danger with me, and sometimes when I re fused to let him go, he would look at me defiantly and say, "I dare not keep him from his duty ! ' At night when we wore out scouting, and lay under the sky, the cold, pitiless rain beating on our heads, I have gathered the form of Ellis up in my arm* and tried to shield him from the storm. I have gone to sleep, aud dreamed sweet, tantalizing dreams of my darling, and awoke to find his head nestled in ray bosomjust as Effie's used to. All this while there was no word from her. I had waited till my heart seem ed breaking; then I had written, but no answer came. Oh, the dark despair of those days ! I think I Bhould have died if it liad not been for my boy. Whon he saw my head bent in agony, he would come and lay his hand on it caressingly, while such a strange look would creep into his eyes, I TERMS, SS.OO PER ANMIIIC could not fathom them, " One day we were surprised, and a fierce battle ensued. There was sharp, quick work, and through it all my little soldier kept close by my side manfully, I had or dered him to the rear, but I hardly think he heard me. We routed tho enemy, but not before many-of my brave boys had bit the dust. Ellis and I were unscathed. We were walking among the killed and wound ed, when my attention was called away by an orderly. I heard a little low cry, and Ellis spiang forward between the ball and iny heart. A wouuded man lay'ng near had raised himself on his and fired the t.hot. 1 caught,the boy in my arms— his head fell back. A beautiful smile crept over his face, while lips murmured, "My husband !" Then I kuew I was hold ing the lifeless form of my wife, who had died for ine perhaps—l, so worthless, so harsh and cruel to her ! Thank God she was spared to me ! You see that poor, use less arm, Will ? That is what she gave for iny life that day. With all the pain and suffering she has had with it, there has never a murmur passed her lips. O my wife! my darling ! Eternity is hardly long enough for mo to recompense your love!" Ralph Leland's face was lit up by the beautiful light of worship as the fairy form stole out to his side in the moonlight, and looked wonderingly at Will Ilark's sober face. That gentleman bent his head down and sighed. THE LADIES' FASHIONS. —Our fashiona ble society gets gayer and gayer as the city gets wicked and wickeder, The ex travagance of the ladies'dresses this Spring takes the shine out of ancient Babylon. Where the money all comes from in these "har ' times" is the mystery of mysteries. Blue seems to he the prevaiiiug color, out of contempt, perhaps, for the blueness of the times. 1 lie outlay for "bugles" must, be enormous, and we pity the unfortunate husbands and fathers that have to face the music. We to thiuk the Indian squaws were fond of beeds, but they never couM shine with the female ornaments of society that exhibited their wampum on Hamilton street on Monday afternoon. The peplums looked so fancical and at tractive. The spring hats, with glass drops hung all around the edges like ex clamation points wrong side up, is also ex quisite. Glittering on the brow of youth and beauty, tlicy remind us of what the poet says about the "icicles on Diana's temple." Likewise short veils, which reach just below the nose, and rouqded off to wards the ears; tliev are so becoming! To a round (ace they give * celestial ap pearance, like that of full moon half eclipsed. Waterfalls, now we notice, have been transferred on top of the head, which is a pleasing change, as it slants the hat over the eyes, and gives the wear er the aspect of one of the b'hoys disguis ed in petticoats. When the hat is worn a litt'e on one side, as well as cocked up be hind, it gives a how-are-you style of ex pression to the countenance that is very touching. Wonderful, truly are the fash ions aud the ways of fashions.— Allentown Democrat. There wuz wuust a man who wuz inebriated, ani that he might present him self in a state approximating sobriety to the partner uv his buzzum, he wuz essaven to vcrfhit, trying thus to case hiz stomicuv the cause uv the unpleasantni? therein, but he coodeut do it. He heaved and heaved, but there wuz no rezult. At this criticle period another man approached, who re marked kindly that, "if he desired to vom it, his best holt wood be to run hiz finger down his throat." The drunken individn ooal looked up indignant at this unwarran ted interference with his rites : " Blast your eyes, sir," said he, "are you or mo boasin this yer puke ?" &W Dress has a moral 4 the conduct of mankind. Let any gentleman find himself with dirt)' boots, old sourtout, soiled neckcloth, and general negligence of dress, lie will, in all probability, find a corresponding disposition by negligence of address A Wisconsin paper tells a story of a man who eloped with another man's wife, but on going to the hotel breaicfast table iu Chicago, where such congenial spirits most do congregate, was filled with consterna tion at seeing his own wife with the man whose domestic peace he thought lie had wrecked forever. After consultation each escorted his own lawful wife back to his deserted hearthstone. A GOOD HABIT.— When a Spaniard eats a peach or pear by the roadside, wherever he .is, he digs a hole in the ground with his foot, and covers the seed. Consequent ly all over Spain, by the roadside and else where, fruit iu great abundance tempts the taste, and is ever free. Let this practice be imitated in our own country. • Ifjf Wendell Phillips says he was wed ded to truth and qhilauthropy when a boy. The Boston Post thiuks Wendell ,uuat have become a widower when quite young. Quilp, who has heretofore been a Unircrsalist, now believes there are two things destined to bo eternally lost^—his umbrella and the man who it, VOL. 6 NO. 40. FINE HANDS. —We do not know a cor poral distinction which the exquisite co*~ eis more than a small white hand, a mem ber which will fit easily into a lady's glove, and may be exhibited npon a snowy hand kerchief, without its color suffering by tba contrast. To many, as well as to the late- Lord Byron, such hand is a distinctive mark of "gentle," or as we should rather say, "genteel" blood. We confess that thia is a feeling with whicn we have never sym*> pathised. The bronzed hand, with it# pow er of muscle, and its swelling veins,is to ua a far more gratifying object, for it tells of exertion, and society holds on to civilisa tion y its stalwart group far more secure ly than the most aristocratic fingers would enable us to do. We are ail the more in clined to preserve this teeliDg after reading a paper by M*. Wilson, upon the ancient Iberian population of the british Isles.— That gentleman states, that from an exam ination of the sword hilts of those warrior hunters of old, it is evident that they must have had very small hands—much smaller than the men of the present day. The Danes, too, and the Vilkings—the sea rob bers—the marauders and pirates of ages ago were distinguished by the same pecul iarity ; their' massive swords scarcely fur nish room within the guard for the delicate grasp of a lady's taper fingers, while the Saxons, the workers of the earth, are mark ed by the large, hand of the laborer. The small hand is the representative of luxuri ous uselessness, the large hand of earnest toil; and just as the small-handed warriors ot old vanished before sturdy continuous energy of the large handed Teutons, will idle beauty pass away before the truth of industry, and the labor of the large hand ed will at once support and rule the world. A WORD TO WlVES. —Little wives, if ever a half suppressed sigh finds place with you, or a half unloving word escapes you to the husband whom you love, let your heart go back to some tender word in those first love days, remember how you loved him then, how tenderly he wooed yon, how timidiy you responded ; and if you can feel th;: yon have not grown unwor thy, trust him for the same good luck now. If you do feel that you have became Ima lovable and attractive than you then were, turn —by all you love on earth or liope for in heaven—turn back and be the pattern of loveliness that won him. be the dear one your attractions made you then. Be the gentle, loving, winning maiden still, and doubt not the lover you admire wilt live forever in yonr husbaud. Nestle by his side, cling to his love, and let his con fidence 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 ho gave you first. Do not seek to emancipate yourself,—do not strive to unsex yourself and become a Lucy Stone or a Rev. Miss Brown; but love the high er honor ordained by our Saviour of old—> that of a loving wife. A happy wife, a blessed mother, can have no higher station needs no greater honor.-- The Lidict' Home. A BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT. —We clip the following from a sermon preached by the Rev. Chas. A. Humphreys, and reported for ahe "Liberal Christian," a very able journal published in New York. "Show nae the vilest pander, the mean est assassin that walks the earth, and I will find in his some germs of good that, if nour ished, would grow into trees that would gladden the gardens of God, and some as pirations whose blind gropings and vain stiugglings would make an angel weep.— This human soul is a breath of God's spir it, and though at times it is almost smoth ered under our ruined and wasted lives it only needs to have its earthly incrustation broken'to soar upward to its native air.— Religion is love to God and uiau. It is a growth, not a spasm ; a life, not a transient experience ; not sad and depressing, but bright and inspiring. It does not com© like the lightning, flashing in a moment from ea-t to weatjtbrough all the spreadinfi heavens, but lika the rising sun, piercing the gathered mists with many an ineffectu al ray, then struggling slowly iuto twilight and at last climbing into perfect day." THE IND AS A MUSICIAN. —The wind is a musician by birth. We extend a silk en thread in a crevice in a window, and the wind finds it and sings over it and goes up and down the scale upon it, and Paga nini must go somewhere else for honor, foe lo! the wind is performing upon a single string. It tries almost every thing on earth to see if there is music in it—it pursuadea a tune out of the gjeat bell in the tower, when the sexton is t home asleep; it, makes a mournful harp of the giant pine and it does not disdain to try what sort of a whistle can be made out of tl e humblest chimney in the world. How it will play upon A tree until every leaf thrills with a note on it, whilst a river runs at its base in a sort of murmuring accompaniment. And w hat a melody it sings wheu it givea a concert with a full choir of the waves of' the sea, and performs an anthem between the two worlds, that goes up perhaps to the stars, which love music most and sung it first. Then, how fondly it haunts old' houses ; mourning under the eaves, singing - in the halls, opening doors without fingers a measure of some sad, old song around th® fireless and desertedjhearths. EST Why do little birds in their nesl agree 1 Because they would fall out if they didn't. • v
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