By W. Blair.]
, VOL. IV.
SELECT .POETRY.
ONE SHORT YEAR.
n one short year, owho can tell
What changes time may bringl
he sun may shine as brightly then,
The birds as sweetly sing;
Thy flowers unfold their petals fair,
And all without be gay,
But those we love so dearly now,
May then have passed away.
Misforeune's tide mayVl along,
And cloud the noble row;
And hearts that are from sorrow free, .
May then in sadness bow. •
The future may all'bright,appear, .•
As one unclouded day; .
But clouds may gather dim and dirk,
And beauty fade away.
The young may now dream gol•len dreams, '
- The future has in store;
But ere one year path passed away
Their blissful dreams are o'er;
They find the earth bath many wrongs
To steel the youthful heart,
And make the spirits bow beneath
Their earth depressing art.
The changes vast of one short year
So strangely do they seem;
That we can scarcely dream them aught
But one short, mournful dream.
one short year, and all we love,
May then have passed away;
And we have gone the way of earth,
Toyealms of brighter day.
For elegance and beauty, the following lines from
the pen of Charles Mackay, challenge the whole
world of poesy.
How many thoughts I gave thee!
Come hither on the grass,
And if thou't count unfailing
The green blades as:we pass;
Or the leaves that sigh and tremble, \
To the sweet wind of the west,
Or the rippling of the river,
Or the sunbeams on its breast,
I'll count the thoughts I give thee,
My beautiful, my blest!
How many joys I ottre thee!
Come sit where seas run high,
And count the heaving billows, '
1 That break on the shore and die—
Or the grains of sand their fondle,
When the storms are overblown,
Or the pearls in the deep sea caverns,
Or the stars in the milky zone
And I'll count the joys I owe thee,
My beautiful, my own!
And how much love 1 proffer!
Come scoop the ocean dry,
Or weigh in thy - tiny balance
The star ships of the sky;
Or twine around thy fingers,
The sunlight streaming wide,
Or_fold it in thy bosom. •
While the world is dark beside;
And I'll tell hoii much I love thee,
My beautiful, my bride! -
SELECT MISCELLANY.
THE HOSE LIFE OF A WOMAN.
"A women's work is never done," said.
Mrs. Brown, as she brought a chair from
the rank file against the wall. and offered
it to her neighbor. Mr. Jones. In perform
ing this hopsitable action, Mrs. Brown cal
led the ghost of a smile to her face, andiak
the care-worn features could be seen signs
of beauty and sweetness that lobe 'and
trouble was stealing from er. She re
sumed her seat;<aid‘ while eking the cra
dle, wearily proceed to pare, quarter
and core the apples in the pan beside her.
while she discoursed in this wise to the
strong. hearty-looking farmer who sat op.
posite.
-.No, John isn't in. Mr. Jones. He's
.gone to the village to hear about secession
—something or other.- I can't keep 'track
If • so hurried and tired. 'Togged
atone - and. wearied with disaster.'
mother used to say."
ou mean to say you hain't any purl
, don't - care what ,those rascally fire
..s do, anyhow, I suppose; little odds
you whether Major Anderson holds out
or. not" Mr, Jones said this in a won
dering.,good natured way.
-.Non, look here, neighbor," and into
'Mrs. Brown's pale cheek a taint crimson
crept and wavered uncertainly; then sta
tioned,itself in the accustomed place.—'
“Look here. neighbor. you know that hen
of ours—that speckled one, that's so fam
ous for raising chickens I you,. know : how.'
she worries fur 'em, and gets poor .and i
fretted like. so she's nothing at last but a
bundle of bones and feathers—but the
chickens come through all right.:- fat. -antl- 1
plump. and bright-eyed. You know old
er
Fass—that' the name Joh gave" \her—
never minds•what she eats, o how heavy
"ate rain pelts downupon her, nd isn't a , .1
fraid of anything for the chicketreinoe,=, l
Well. snmehow 1 ihanklaw like the poor
Add "he» •u ` ' .• ' ' c'
• MVP Brow° dropped the knife and bent
.over-the credie a moment. Farmer Jones
didn't notice the tears that fell upon the
baby's cheek.
"Your Sea, neighbor." the 'woman Went
on, 4' when -my heart and band were full:of
sbo l ughte and. work ifor John and ,the chit.
dren—ol bow :1 can manage to save here,
and'gei alonig , 4Font this, and' make that .
lavt l beyond all reason--I don't havamuch
dine-left' to ibinrobout these' politics or '
anything,heyond Oka loom we live in
BM I umetto have „thoughts outside .ofth is,
about the .countries _away over The sea,"
and-tlie woman's eyes bad a fared mourn
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RY D. HARDY, U.
TRUE POETRY.
ful to in them. "In geography, I re
membered how I liked to learn about 'em,
and then 1 thought may . be I'd see all those
beautiful things some day; you know girls
have their fancies. But I've given allthat
up. 'Tian% easy to go, &wool-gathering'
when I see bub's toes among out of his
stockings. and John's phone needing a
patch. I'm afraid you men don't make
hardly allowance enoug for us, always.--
We're not so stroneas ou, and then our
work is different. You are out in the
fresh air and sunshine, bu a stay in the
house and don't have much c ange. Yon
go to market, and haul wood and straw,
and meet your neighbors and have a plea-
sant word with them, but we see the same
thing day after day, and get lonesome
sometimes, and wonder' why we were put
into such kind of lives as these."
"Then it's trying to a woman's neivas
—the kind of work she has to do. 'Tisn't
like plowing, and sowing,und driving hor
ses, that's-heavy work, to be sure, but
then you're strong to do it. But we have
such particular, careful work.. Now, there
is bread making—you don't know how
much worry there is about it. You must
take so much into the account, the kind of
flour, the kind of wood you have to make
your fire, the yeast: all these are changing
and you must make allowances for this.—
You must let the bread rise just so much,
and fix the dampers just right, - and handle
it so careful. Why, Dr. D— told me
that its like managing chemicals; and he
said men that had to work with chemicals
were the most nervous kind, because they
were always so full.ot thoughts and care.
Then there's preserves, and pickles, and
cakes and coffee. You don't know any
thing about the care and trouble it is to get
them up so nice, when you sit down to eat
the light, crisp pastry and drink the coffee,
creamed to the color that suite you. You
don't know how tiresome it is to feel so
much care always on you. nor how much
patience and watching it takes, before a
turkey to roast ) is 'done to a turn.' "
Mr. Jones looked steadily at his neigh
bor while she talked. She paused a mo
menu° replenish the fire. He sat in a
kind of maze, without offering her any as
sistance. Finding he did not speak, she
continued :
"And so you see, with all these things,
I don't think much about what's going on
outside, that you and John talk about,
though I often wish I could. And I think,
somehow. I'm like our old hen, I spoke or.
for I don't mind much about myself. I
see that I'm getting to stoop more every
year, and there are gray hair on my tem.
pies, though I'm not thirty yet. The
wrinkles are so plain, too on my forehead.
I'm sorry; John thought - I
was pretty
years ago.l remember pow straight and slim
I used to be, and had nice brown hair and
red cheeks. Dear me! there hasn't been
a bit of tolor in them for.Jears. John is
always good and kind. but he don't know
ow worried I get. mast every day. and
when I speak short and fretful sometimes,
he looks surprised and says, •W hat! Mary,
is it you speaking in such a voice as
that?' "
Mr. Jones looked up in a wondering
sort of way. .'Why, I never thought of
this before." he said. '• thought women's
work wasn't much any way. But I see
you're right. According AO your strength,
you have the hardest time. 'We work hard
then, as you say, we're stronger and have
more variety; then at evening we rest
I'm glad you spoke so, Mrs. Brown. I'll
be more considerate toward -the women.—
I'd advise you to keep a hired girl, only
they're such cross, vexing things "
"No. I don't think so." Mrs. Brown re•
plied. 'Hired girls are abused, too. They
have the same troubles that I have, almost.
No wonder they complain sometimes, who
have canoe always. We ought to be ear•
ry rot-them, and remember their troubles.
And then, John can't afford to keep a girl;
I wouldn't let him. No, there% no way
for me but to keep working and worrying
till d can't do any wore, and then they'll
lay me away where it is quiet, and I shall
rest. But" and her eyes grew bright, ••my
children will grow up tall and strong, and
if my life goes to nourish theirs, I suppose
it'a all. the, same.. And yet I sometimes
wish my life had been-a brighter one." . -
A rough hand fell on The woman's head,
but its touch was gentle as her mother's
might have been; a 'firm manly voice said:
••Your life shall be a bright one, Mary.
God help me to make it so."
— She turned quickly, exclaiming in her
sad. sweet voice - - • -- •
• ••John, John I"
• The New 'York Tribune makes the fol
lowing sensible remarks on the subject of
hasty marriages:
There is not a city, there is scarcely a
township which does not -number among its
inhabitants women. who have married on
very short acquaintance, only to be aline
eil, deserted, and left a burden and a life
long sorrow to the families in which they
were born rearediand which they most
improperly deserted to share the fortune
of relative strangers. If ' young
would realize how grossly indelicate, es
well is etilpably seeklessi, - such inarriagei
appear in the ilea 'of , the obierving, they
surely would forbear.-•-A Year's thor.wgh
acquaintance with the most eirentnetantial
accounts.. frost ..-diainieresied and. . jsltable
w ineirsesopft he antecedents from_
are the very least guarantee Which-oily
-woman "rho realizes what ,marriage wilt
segeivu of estranger, :.Even , then, if iier
parents are nut .lutly iratislied ..as., :well as
herself. site should .'still hesitate. Alar
risge is an undertaking in which nodslay
can he so hazardous as undue precipitation
Vainily News Paper: Neutral in Politics and Religion.
.wityNisßoßc PRINKLIN COUNTY, PpNr . A . ,: . IIIIIII% . JWIARy''; 186,2.'..:r - .._
~'
Reader. have you ever thought hpw
beautiful is prayer?—that myslic,indescrih• '
able, invisible ladder of faith, by which we
ascend in the grey dawn and the evening
shadow up to God? .
Have we ever closely contemplated the
suggestive • eloquence of that familiar in
vocation which for eighteen hundred years
has gone up from altar and fireside, from
cottage and palace, all over the broad
sweep of Christendom? Have.you thought
of the lowly hearts it has :inspired, of the
deathless deeds its clarion notes have Wei
-1 Led! Have you• thought of the weaheoule
i► has made strong. of the lowly ones it has
projected into greatness and crowned with
immortal amaranth? How ,it has rolled
over the tongues of heroes and martyrs, of
patriots and saints. blunting the sharp edge
of the flame and the sword! Good men
have been proud to (lie for it. and cowards
have grown brave as they thought of it.—
Time and again it has been the only gift
of the humble mother to her boy; it has
been hie passport through the granite bat
tlemente of the world. and before it the
crystal gates of eternity have rolled back.
W hat a tale it tells of" dungeons and of
scaffolds, of persecution and of suffering.
Backward it carries us through the long
pathway of ages, past the gravestones of
epochs and the monuments of empires.
in its clear rays we read the faith that
wade those old Christians stronger than
their persecutors and inducted theirtho t te
beyond the stars.
What a pillar of cloud and column of fire
this prayer has been to the tried and to the
tempted, the weak and the desolate, all
the world over. Great men and good• men
have found strength and inapiration in its
teaching,a ad itirmacred syllables have made
glad music about the death bed and in the
dying ear. From lip to lip it has 'descen
ded from generation to generation, a bless
ed heritage for ever. All the past days
come back to us in its meledy,aripie, feel .
the sunshine of life's morning again upon
our cheeks.
Oh! there is a world of beauty in the
associations .that cluster around the old
time prayers of earlier and happier years
—the prayers of our mothers %alight us un
der the old roof and about the shrine of
home! How they speak to us, like famil
iar voices, of Ike loved ones that have gone
out into the shadowy mystery and inspire
us with emulation and with reverence.—
And oh, have we not need of such emula
tion and reverence in the shock and whirl
of life? Have we no need, of the strength
and assurance that come from prayer when
the battle rages with and the legions of
temptations press close to our want and
our woe? Have we no need of this when
honor is death,and virtue a pauper's grave?
Have we no need in the meriting of life,
whilst yet on the threshold of existence,
when all things look bright and beautiful
around us, and the bud and blossom of
springtime hedge us thickly shoed—have
we no need, t repeat, in the outset of this
pilgr image of promise to look for guidance
and instruction, for aid and succor, to 'Our
Father who Sri in Heaven?' And oh! with
the glitter 'and charm of gold assailing us
at our weakest point, with the ranks of
glory. vacant and the throne of -power un
occupied—with ambition in our rear and
the wide world before us--!have we, 1 say,
thus vovironed, no need to send oursouls
up to God on the wings of that divi ne
. in
vocation---.lead us not into temptation,but
deliver us from evil?"
Have the sad and forlorn, the widow
and the fatherless, the desolate, and those
that have no helper, and to whom life of
fens nothing but shame or misery—oh!
have they no- need, from the depths of
their bruised and bleeding,hearts, to cry
..Give us this day our daily bread" And
have the great In intellect..and the power
ful in offices of responsibity and trust,who
hold the reins of civilization and guide the
helm of nations. and the destinies of men
—have these. drank with prerogative and
privilege, with nature inclined to vanity,
and with the constituttonal thfirmitiea of
lesser men—l ask, have not these need, -
in devout and' earnest recognition, to ex
claim, Thine is the kingdom, the power
and the , glory?" And when the 4 , pale
horse" comes with its terrible , rider ; and
strikes down our hopes and..ner,-joye ;
when the "sickle is put in becanse,the
harvest has come," and the loved and the
cherished are gathered hoine ; when the
soul is appalled and the heart overwhelm.
ed by griel;,when tears gather thick: on the
bier and the shadow, of bereavement, hangs
heavy upon us--then. old then, has .the
rebellious spirit no need.. in humility and, l
faith, to pray. !!Thy will•be done on earth
as it is in heaven?'' •
And thus, in some , way. or other. We
havei all need of divine help and consola
tion that flows from this, i bueolihil fountain
of prayer. At every ,inomem. some
,neces
lily of our-nature otenuilitiott ot our lives.,
demand it. , is our-sun and our nhield,
our sword and, our ,is God's
beaeon light along .the, ensist,of beaven,,io
guide ,us safely, home., •,,,
.
Then, cut - it, upon our ; hearts, oh weak
and frail. oh.
_tempted arid „doubting.; oh'
.
sorrowful and. suffering .humfmity., its
,proud truitia-llasti visit inaiiirgiun, quip,
your struts ond kind Le . .v ice in
your wayward. and a l elOsh.na
tare.. Give- We reVESi in its peace;
fol.sharle ,an J sanctity" , oh. , world..weary
. 1 104 despoirdinalli rave it int
„your,,hatttp . .
dugs. ye, peerless Je,gina pJ , !pier!). let
Air hispiriag Oath)", ,kiss the' Irma:ranks
Of your armies like a blessed. heuedieiinn:
grasp it firmly when danger threatens,ond
WAYSIDE GLEANINGS. ,-
"OUR FATHER." .
press it close to, your heart in the smoke
and the flame of battle. And oh, keep the
memory of great , hero, before You, and
you will not forget hop to strike hie Col
ors.' Keep your. eye - upon your standard
and your heart in your eyes, and if death
comes you Will know bow to welcome it;
and your loyalty to your flag and your
faith in its cause shall be the teat of your
merit ai a soldier of ' the' legion of the
CROSS.
A SOUTHERN ZikRTYIL
When the secret history .of current 43-
'vents at the South is brought to Light, here
will be revelations of sacifffice and suffer
ing for loyalty to ,the Union that will show
that the . age of, heroism has not wholly
gonehy. A recent lettei from a lady in
Charleston, o f undoubted authenticity,
gives an account of a martyr to loyalty.
whose name will be honored in the history
that is yet to be written of the great events
of this age, though now concealed from
motives of prudence:
Poor is dead; before• the fall of
Sumter he exerted all his influence, using
,both pen and voice against xebellioneuntil
to was thrown into prison. At first he
was treated as an ordinary criminal await
ing trial; but after the battle of Manassas,
the Confederates seemed drunk with tri•
umph at their victory, and mad with rage
over the vast number,of victims who fell
in their ranks. I wrote you with what
porn this city mourned 'her dead; amid it
all when the 'Confederates Mist seemed
like to win, F---was offered freedom and
promotion if he would espouse the Con
federate cause. • RIB military, and scientific
attainments were considerable, which made
them anxious for his services. "I have
sworn allegiance to the Union," he said,
"and am not one to break my
_pledgee".
When tempted 'by promotion if he could
be prevailed upon to enlist beneath their
canner, he said, "you cannot buy my loy
alty/. I love Carolina,, and the South; but
I love my country better." Finding him
faithful to the flag he loved, he was made
to feel the power , of his enemies. He was
thrown into a miserable, damp, ill, Yentas '
ted cell, and fed on coarse fare; half the
time neglected by his drunken keeper.--
His property was confiscated, and his wife
and children beggared. , Poor fellow! he
sank beneath his troubles. and was soon
removed from the persecution of his oppres
sors. The day before his death he said
to his wife: "Mary, you are beggared be
because 1 would not prove
""God be thanked for your fidelity!" re
plied the wife, "They have taken your
wealth, and life, but could not stain your
honor, and our•children shall boast mon
spotted name. My husband, rejoice in
your truth." She returned to her friends
after his death, openly declaring her proud
est boast should be, her husband died a
martyr to his patriotism. Who shall say
the day of heroism hai passed?
An Aniumn for the Nation
There is something exquisitely beauti•
ful in these ideas of the Rev. Mr. Fletcher
pastor of the Second Universalist Church
at Lowell, Mass., a few days ago, from the
text: e all do fade as - a leaf." tie is
speaking f the late frosts and unusually
fine weal er of ,the autumn of 1861, and
says:
~ Summer, glorious, protracted, beauti
ful summer, loth to leave her cherished
treasures, lingered and breathed upon fields
and gardens long after
. the. usual thee of
her departure. Autumn, came, / and hand
in hand they walked along,, so gently, so
,harmoniously, that flowers looked:up avid
smiled hi all their loveliness beneath the
influence of their united reign., Pat
. they ,
have spoken their adieus' 'and intrtg com
pany, and with her breath cif frost ' autumn
has spoiled the hingeling , freshness Of the
field and garden, and touched with ruiset
the foliage of the forest. " Yei i'ven,no,vr
we have her in her gentlest mood; and by
such measured and considerate steps is she
conducting us tromilural groves to fields
that will ere.. long ,wear, , icy coronations,
that we are scarcely conscious of the change
It is as if the power , which keeps the plan
eta in their co urses and gives a character
to all the seasons „ had looked in kindness
on the unsheltered. soldiery of our beloved
country, andjempered the winds to their
conditions and
,necessities; as if he pitied
the poor in thir deatitntion•,,Ond . ny this
most : unusual actin= had ,kept .the, sun.
light on their hen rill . stones,, li welcome
substitute tor; fuel, and , wrapped. them in
n,almosphere. ammiiej „thritliey,,bme,not
been Buffeting ,for
,winter„garmnlfq,a, 9 ;l l
the new . ,and ,fearful exigencies, ef
. pres- 1
ent day demanded, ; a delay je t • lte,Kerefiri
qf,the seitepne,,Arit.l
,Gfoilibad kept the,stin
horn sinking teow,ards the autumnal fquilltpt'
to give our armies time in
... which,to;ponisn
treasot.” , ~z , ,
'Rutte.-- TI Ir , it k. r -Ne'vei
row as paper, bo'Ok. fttl fa, horse;eart,
plc wy shovelkiipade, or any
thing else, whateve r , it you 'esti" On:4SW
do without it. nor 'then . .eith'ern'isletil"with
eniusent'of the esirner. 2: 7 lie'iSilee:r "we..
—lll,ot only use the borrowed' as
carefully, is it sv,eie yoUr'otvis:',litst resi;re
is,Ocit osivn-;-Jit:' retain" it
beyond' the - time agreed' to; ivithOui the
osvapes verb.! convent. - 3. The abhteil
'flute ".:=4.14 sonn as you 'have thiniPtiiiiic
rye thioghtirrowed, returnit ,with
ail .4l ' ll q reafly . io return the lavor: " '
Ile in-'the - performance:: °Vibe,
duties' of Itfe c timn fifc, , like‘aklutiful
re watillour fdifigetibetwidtt,sue-
• .1 I .
'a ,wise siibon' tie . 1# ;dell
oir. caii.skrep 80.
, " 411
Th: LO. ' hid '
I believe there L'k no period in life - so
happy an that in' ._:ch-la'''thliving lover
leaves his inbitress afte .'s,.firet success.
Elie joy is more perfect the then- at the
moment of his own, _absolute eager vow.
and her self-issenting blutAee. - Then' he
is thinking most , of her, and is to a certain
degree embarrassed by the effort necessa
ry for his success._ But when the promise
haronce been given to him, and he , is able
Co escape fnto,the domain of hie own heart,
he is a conqueror whO has mastered half a
continent by his'own strategy. It never
occurs to him=he hardly believes that his
success is no more than that which is the
ordinary lot of mortal man. He never re
flects that all the old married fogies whom
he knows and despises, have just as much
ground for pride; if such 'pride were endu
ring; that every fat, silent, dull. somnolent
old lady whom he sees, and quizzes, has
at some period been deemed as worthy
prize as hie priceless galleon; and_ so
deemed by as bold a captor as himself.
Some one has slid that every young
mother, when her first child is born,
re•
garde the late babe the most wonderful pro
duction of that description which the
world has yet seen. And this, too,is_true.
But I doubt whether even that conviction
is so strong as the conviction of the sue-
cessful young lover, that he has achieved a
triumph which should enoble him down to
late generations. As he goes along be
has a contempt tot: other men, for they
know nothing'ol such a glory as' his. As
he pores over his Blackstone, -he remem•
bers that he does . so not so much that he
may acquire law;as that he may acquire
Fanny;. and then , all other porers over
Blackstone are low anti mean in his sight
—tire ineroettary'in . their views and unfor.
tutifite in their ideas, for they have no
Fanny in view.
The Power of Silence.
A good woman in Jersey was sadly an
noyed by a termagant neighbor,' whn often
visited and provoked a quarrel. She at
lasf•sought the counsel of her pastor, who
added some common sense to his other
good quahties. Having heard the story of
her wrongs, he advised her to seat herself
quietly in •the chimney corner when ; next
visited, take the • tongs in her . hands, and
when ever a hard word came •from her
neighbor's, lips, gentley snap the tongs,
without Uttering a word.. A day or two
afterwards the woman came again to her
pastor, with a bright and laughing face, to
e - ommunieate the effect of this new anti
dote fur scolding, Her iroubler had visi•
ted her, and, as usual commenced -her
tirade. snap! went the tongs. Another
volley. Snap! Another still. Sunlit—
A.Why don't you speakt"said the terms
gent more enraged. Snap!- "Do stiCak: I
shall die if you don't speak!" and -away
she went, cured of her malady by the ma
gic of silence. it -is poor work scolding a
deaf mpn, it is pro fi tless beating the air;---
One-sided controversies do not last long,
and generally end in victory fur the silent
party. •
~ Narrow Escape.
The Cairo correspondent of the St. Lou•
is Republican has been visiting the Rebel
ramp at Columbine under a flag of truce.—
He relates the following story told by the
Rebel General Cheatham,of the manner in
which he escaped capture at the CaTtle.of
Belmont,,Mo.:
• Just as the opposing armies were ap•
proaching one another, General Cheatham
discovered a. squadron • of , cavalry coming
down a road near his position. Uncertain
as : to which force it belonged,accompanied
only hy an orderly, hp rode up to within a
few,yarils of it and inquired: ..
*.W hat cavalry, is that?"„
lllinitts Cav - dry, sir." as the reply.
”Olil Illinois Cavalry. All right; jest
stand .where you are.'
The cavalry obeyed the Rebel nrder,and
unmolested by them,, who supposed he
was one , of the Federailfricers, the Gener
iT retie Safely back, directly under the guns
Of another Federal regiment, which had4by
that time come up. but who, .seeing -him
coming from the direction of ;the cavalry,
also supposed that he was one of , thern.--
Some of our n'ffici , rs remenibered thetinci
dent aniVagreed. with•the hero - af it ; t tat if
they bad known who he was. it was very
,probchle that there would, ,have been one
Rebel General less that night.-
.-Rsuctir:Fo titles tx—rit tr , Ft ELD.- - he're.
cent , ; .ktesaag.s, of,,tho Retts I Unvenpirs, • a nd.
otirr.p l ( .itU so,4l . - 11 4oFligeras,, put , Mph by the .
State autrittes. en ,61e us Ao',:fprtirt a,pret
ty, Fp.frect :t stlin).lte of the . st,Tetl,lll,:tlf
,Rebels now tot the `field. •I't is ieuving uIT
••
C7ertigie. ,{• • " ; • 27.000
. , •• • ; 25,000
Sont,ll Carolina 19.000
Sriigiii is; , 83.000.
Tsifnt epee;`• •• • ' ' 85:000'
-Kani A roy a t. , .10.000
k 1. 4 4,00,1164 -4.9Y0
111baM . : , 22 000 e
314 iiiilli1 1 4 - • : ** 21.000.
' ' • le obo . '
• .1
80:000'
.INorpt, : paplint4,, ; ; , , a . ;,,(1Q0
Writaueas.•
~ . 24,000
• '2;000
`Total 847.111
marry the
,girt
parllie her inAiihel: ii4iiniia tn , the
t _4, • I . •:1
.117. hen you:see a aknaii waist. MIME npar
great a \vititeOf 'health
$1.50' Pox Annum, in. Advince
iIIIIMOROUS„
...i ..
Good fokee s like old maids, raroly die.
.When is stealing perfectly justifiable?
When a blacksmith steals an axe.
A man will bear the gout and yet won't
let a fly tinkle Ma nose.
• Women are like horbes—the gam the
harness the more they wriggle.
Make choice ofyour wife by the cure,
not the eyes.
The than who don't take a paper was in
town last week, and wanted to know if
New England wasn't in New York.
With many wom n. going to church is.
very little better than looking into a bonnet
shop.
To make a girl love you coax her to
love somebody.else. • 11,there be anything
that woman
_relishes, it is to be contrary.
An Irishman complained of his' physi
cian that he Btu fred him so much with
drugs that he was sick alter he got well.
An,' editor. speaking of a 'woman's rights
convention.' says-4.persevere ladies—pet
ticoats will,ritt by and bp" • ,
A New Orleans paper states that there
is in that cityi a hog with his . ears so tar
that be can't here hansell squeal., •
ADVICE TO 11111 4 11A1C05.--.TO ascertain
wheine , yoUr wife is jealous, lace up . an•
other lady's shoe,•and let her catch you at
it I 11,that don't make her round should
ered, nothing will.
A Ronins.—A room with (our corners
had a cat in each corner, three cats before
each cat, and a cat on every cat's tail.—
How many cats where there in the room.
-A dandy Oliserved that he had put a plate
of brass 'upon his , boote to keep him up
right. "Veil palaneed, by ling said a
Doehman. ”pratis:st . both ends." . •
There is a deg . in - Itozbyry,-Massachti.
setts,' whO has acquired the habit of chew.
big tobacco. "lie is• shunned by all the de
cent dogs in the neighborhood.
Corpulent' Petering desitioue to lessen
their circumference _should' apply to some
newspaper 'establishment for the office of
collector. ,
What word would give .cforrow to the
mechanic and joy to the . prisoner?--Die
charged. . •
Stated—that the rebel's continue to raise
hemp:• Sagacity ,thinks •,that hemp will
some day raise the rebels. •
A rigidly pions .old lady down East
says 'this civil war is judgement upon
the nation for permitting women to wear
hoops.
IV hat is the matter Frank? said a moth
er-to her .little three ye. old, •who was
troubled With' a' pain ,one day; i'got the
b' a ek ache?' eNo,:nie not got the back ache;
me got the front ache.' -
An iiidian out West was heard to make
the folloising efelimation, on . seeing one
our fashinnatile , (hooped)• ladies:
• Ugh mucli wig woad'
There ie a tine in the West Who — has
snored so often, that whenever, a- , covered
wagon cotrs near hit, nituse, hischiettens
all march up and fall on'their - 16eks,""Ond
eirosis'theii'legs, ready tribe tied 'Bd& eir
ried.to thenest stuppiag place.
A darkey who blacks boots it the . Nation
al Hotel; in Washington, has the fofloiving
mono conspicuously .displayed over, his
stand: , ,
lEl=l
„., 1:1 , /
Give me the Yankee girls yet, for when
lou'kiss•tfient::;thes'iwilt-inottestlyielifaim.
:Iyou,dare'-not dq,it Lwiee WOrtb.”; : 71:11e
rof rkapsaa why) 0 1 3 - is.setj,
stantly lamp as high as.a,Forii from
_a beer
botille, 'and' SaYt gatid:"
But ilie-girf.i'of - our•ow - o :State. L.anewihe
like to• attempted.,lare :oft itko .a.c,flock, of\
xtoOes at the report. a gun,,not: teweiian
(lca to one if they don't tell ' their 'maintuas.
Here is the Jest 'Agood tbiug" About the
.
hoops.
. LiUle BO'S.--,i'tto"ii hush?"' ••':'
mothe r , dty dear,, by de-you
askr!.: , • 1
„Gittie,BoE—ltlieestre I
asked
‘q ,s ter fp, ne
m esee l rdaywhat' mode bei stick
ealit s' t::
Wives who do not try to keep their . h9s•
bands wilt - loae them.-- kinen does the
44 0461114" bt:ciiref nourviste; and. the wife
inutit do -iiiaftvr marriage; or some our
AIuAvAAPI
•
PeOlirktiever improve atter morriege..o6. ,
The tirrthat ' tO her 'parsers
win liirter3r apt , ill give "ease" :to her hue.
baud.
NO. 42
"NO NORTH. NO SOUTH,
nU r." So" wttit, •
TRUST!'"