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- VOLUMR - MI
I:"C:I3EUTICYJCA-Xa.
WARRINGTON'S FRAM AT VALLEY FMB.
"Father! the hour is dark and gloomy,
• < Huroblp I bow before th thro le
n i t is bitter cup my doom be,
I only . say, "Thy will de done."'
But for my bleeding rountry near
, One prayer. Unseen by mortal eyes,
I come to offer all that's dear .
To man—a willing sacrifice,
4.1 f I bave erred, spare not thy hand,
• L(t all the punis' vent be mine,
But from my loved—my native land.
Father! withold thy wrath divine!
'Gainst me let enemies prevail,
And all mrhard-won honors take,
Thy suffering children make
"If on the deathless roll of fame --
. I had too fondly hoped to 'place,
By honest deeds, my humble name, .
-----Mhe-rec. • h hand efface—
Purge pride, ambition from my heart,
' And make me feel thy awful power—
Let not_thy_countenance depart
From Freedom's cause in this dark hour!"
Thus kneeling on the frozen sod,
Beneath the dark and wintry sky,
The chief poured out his soul to God
And wrestled - witlrhis-ngony.
The - i Firs bo - prayed:the - elouds were riven, _
And through their gloom a star was seen;
It seemed a rnessengt r from heaven
And in its light he grew serene.
SPRING.
BY E. H. GOULD
Spring comes in sweet and soft array,
And throws her mantle o'er the hills:
Breathes on the air a sweet perfume,
And with new life the woodland fills
The tender Made waves in the sun,
f. trem tng eaves
The birds are glad with songs of joy,
And streams go rippling glad and free,
So gladness, come,and o'er our hearts
Thy radiant charms a halo fling;
Bid hope and joy eternal shine,
And love its wealth of pleasure bring
Let vain regret for pleasure put,
And timed fearof future woe,
(Which rob the present of its joys)
Forever melt like Winter's snow
MVIIISOMILL4.43.NY,
THE BEGGAR BOY.
"Get away with you, you dirty old beggar.
— l'd like - to - knoW.teliat right — you have to lOTA
over the fence at our flowers ?" The speak
er was a little boy not more than eleven years
old and though people sometimes • called it
handsome, his face looked very harsh and
disagreeable jus t then.
lie stood in a beautiful garden, just in the
suburbs of the city ; and it was in June time,
and the tulips were opening themselves to
the sunshine. 0 1 it was a great joy to look
at them as they bowed gracefully to the light
with their necks of crimson, of yellow, and
carnation. The beds fi• raked either side of
the path that curved around a small arbor,
where the young grape clusters that lay hid
den among the large leaves, wrote a beauti
ful prophecy for the autumn.
A white paling ran in front of the garden;
and over this the little beggar boy, so rude
ly addressed was leaning. He was very lean,
very dirty, very ragged: I am afraid you
would have turned away in disgust from so
repu stvo. a spec
angels loved him I
Lie was looking with all his soul in his
eyes on the beautiful blossoms, as they sway
ed to and fro in the summer wind, and his
heart softened while he leaned his arm on
the fence railing, and forgot everything in
that long absorbed gaze ! Ah I it was sel
dom the beggar boy saw anything that was
either very good or beautiful, and it was sad
his dream should have such a rude awaken
in The blood rushed up to his face, and a
• glance full of evil and defiance flashed into
his eyes. Bat before the boy could retort a
little girl sprang out from the arbor and look
ed eagerly from one child to the other.—
She was very fair, with soft hazel eyes,' over
which drooled long shining lashes. Rich
curls hung over her almost bare, white shoul
ders; and her lips were the color of the crim•
son tulip blossoms.
uld — rou speak so cross to the boy
sit--asted r with-a—tone_otaad
re
proach quivering through the sweetness or,
_h e r voice, "I'm sure it dosen't do. xis any
harm, to have him look at t. e
likes."
"Well Helen," urged her brother, slight
ly mortified and ashamed, "I don't like to
have beggars gazing over the fence. It looks
so low.'
, "Now that's a notion cifyours Hinton I'm
---sure,--if thellew_ers eau do any body any good,
we ought to be very glad. Little boy (iii - d 3 -
the child turned to the beggar boy and ad.
-dressed him a prince,) "I'll pick you some
of tne tulips, if you'll wait a moment.",
'"Helen,.dobelieve you're the funniest
Airlrthat'ever lived 1" ejaculated the child,s
brother, as he turned away, and with a 'low
.whistle sauntered down the path, feeling very
uncomfortable; for her conduct was a strong
er reproof to him than any words could have
been.
Helen plucked' one of each specimen of the
N ,
tulips, and there was a great varlet of:these,
and gave them to the child: Hig fac righ
tened as be received them and thanke her.
Oh ! the little girl had dropped a "pearl
of great price" into the black, turbid billows
of the boy's life, an.l the years would bring
it up, beautiful and fair again.
Twelve years had passed. The little blue
s •ed ,irii.,:ikiNaLigigiggijallagjaaj
man. .One bright June afternoon si e wa . -
ed with her husband through the garden, for
she was on a visit to her parents. The place
was little changed, and the tulips had. open
ed their - lips ot crimson, and gold to the sun.
shine, as they had twelve years before. Sud
denly they observed a young man in a work
man's blue overalls, leaning over the fence,
his eyes following eagerly from the beautiful
flowers to herself. He had a frank, pleasant
countenance, and there was seined:ling in his
manner that interested the gentleman and
lady.
"Look here. Edward," said she, "1,11
some of the flowers. It always does me good
to see people admiring them ; ' and then re
lcasingher husband's arm, she approached
the paling, (and the smile round her lips was
very like the old, child one) saying, !‘Are
you fond of Bowels, sir F It will give me
great pleasure to gather you some."
----7 1 V. ---61.k7r,---
ae young workman looked almornent very
earnestly into the fair, sweet face—
" Twelve years ago this very month," he
said, in a voice deep and yet tremulous with
feeling, "I stood here, leaning on the railing
a dirty, ragged little beggar boy; and you
asked •me this very question. TWelve years
ago you placed the bright flowers in my
hands, and they made me a new boy ay_!_,t,
l and they made a man of toe, too. our face
114i - 3 been a lightma'am, all along the dark
hours of my lite i and this day that little beg
gar boy can stand on tile old place and say
to you, though he's an li - unable and hard work
ing man, yet thank God, ha's an honest one."
, Tear drops trembled like Morning dew on
I the shining lashes of the lady, as she turned
to her husband, who had joined her, and lis
tened in absorbed astonishment to the work
man's words. "God," said she,
"put it into
my child-heart to do that little deed of kind
ness, and see now how very great is the re
ward he has given me."
And the setting sun poured a flood of rich
purple-light over the group that stood there,
over , the workman in blue overalls, over the
proud looking gentleman at her side. Al
though it was a picture for a pain ter, the
angels who looked dowo on it from heaven
saw something more than a picture there.
ance on t e tree
If married people would be happy, they
must inflexibly see through each other; they
must know each other's faults and understand
each other's weaknesses, and then learn to
bear 'with and help mutually to eradicate
them. Many. husbands and wives foolishly
fancy that they "should be blind to each oth.
er'sfaults;" but this lark pernicious fallacy;
they can't be blind to them. Their faults
will be constantly bubbling and bursting eut,
and at the most inconvient and annoyingcon -
4one:tures, too: The only proper way is
clearly to see each other's faults, and then
lovingly correct and generously forgive them.
If a man only loves his wife for her pleasant
and attractive qualities, what does he more
than another? Anybody would love her for
them. A husband siwuld love his wife—
faults and all ; and the wife should reeipro--
, cate the affection.
This idea of "going it blind" in the marriage
relation—this
. ostrich like attempt to thrust
the conjugal head in the domestic sand, is
utterly fimlish and unphilosophical, and can%
not fail to be attended with deplorable results.
No woman living is an angel—(at least not
after the expiration of the honeymoon)—nor
is any live man overstocked with goodness.
Tr ia Is and troubles abound ; dishonest
debtors, envious and malicious competitors,
aching heads, smarting corns, indigestion,
tight_ boots and smoking chimneys are too
much for man and woman, married or single,
. • - husbands d
y e lusbands a. ti wives who
would be the happiest of your race, "how
yourselves to each other as you really are,
honestly understand each other's • character,
practice the most loving forbearance,, and
mutually help to bear each other's burdens;
but let us have no "going it blind"—no os-
trich artifices—no attempts to blink the inev
itable facts of nature, as you value your pros
perity and happiness.
It may never come. To some .persons it
will never come. if it should come to you,
how do you anticipate spending it—for pleas
ure or far profit, in the service of God ? Ey
cry man should have a purpose and fixed
habits, not only through the week but also
on the sabbath, which.has its appropriate du
ties. flow many wisely make their calcula
tions for the week ; and leave the Sabbath to
chance! They have no plan about it. The
-first-they-economize-well;the - secolid - th •
thoughtlessly squander. Upon the one, may
.• •• • • empora -- TatoresWlttiart e other,
his eternal condition. Then do not leave the
• tter-tia-accident.—Let-notr-another-Sa
bath be wasted. If you are forty years old,
almost six years of Sabbaths have gone, and
the man of seventy has had ten. If all these
were improved, what would be the result ?
The Jews termed the Sabbath the "day of
light;" the Africans, "Ossady, the day of
siPLICO f • the Grealndianb ' 'the praying
-il
.ayilt-the-early-Ch-ristiansi-Isthe-cpreen-ot
days ;" all significant. It is the Lord's day,
the day of rest. How will yea spend the
.next ?-4forning Star.,
owers 1
"Pa, stint I growing. tall?" "Why, wbat
is your hoight. sonny ?" "Seven feat, Tack
ing a yar4.! Pa fainted.
jgb. Family Weevv.ol: 7 4Str)ol•ls Ne6l.l,tral in. 3E 111. 01311.09 nri.cl
WAINESER,O% FIiANKLESIXINNA PENNSWANIA I TRIDATILORNIKAM #. 18
To married Folks
Next Sabbath.
Affectation is a proof of vanity.
OUR MINISTER'S TRIAL.
BY REV. W. H ,11AYWARD.e.
A good man was our 'pastor, Rev. Thorn
ton Haven, and of no common eloquenee.-:-
Our best—l had almost written good—
•chnrch members loved him. lam sorry to
say that a few, thorned by the words that
fell from his lips when he endeavored to ex
cite hia_brethren-and-sisters-to
"A closet walk with God,"
regarded him with other emotions than ,the
fruits of the spirit.
Like all other good men he was carefully
watched by those who would have been
transported with a fiendlike delight could
they have found a flaw in his conduct
"Well! well!" said Mrs Monroe, the wheel
wright's wife to her husband, as they sat at
the breakfast table one morning, "suppose
Mi Haven did kiss Fanny Lawton. She was
almost one of the family what was the harm."
"But," said the wheelwright, "I don't be
lieve that he did kiss her."
"Fan-ny—sa-ys-41kat—kei--4idf - ' - 7e - piired — the
wife.
This seemed to be a clincher to Mr. Mon
roe.fle deliberateinvived his face with
his handkerchief, and with a downcast,
thoughtful look and much slower pace than
usual, went to his shop. He had hardly, ta.
ken his shave in his hand, and began to ply
it on an unfinished spoke, before Deacon
Brown came in. The Deacon stood - awhile
chewing a small fragment of a shaving and
talking about this, that and nothing. Sud
denly he said:
"Brother Monroe, have you heard about
our minister ?" •
-• "Yes," replied the brother. Then there
was-not_a-w-ord_sitken:for_se.v_eral_minutes-
The_brother_ lustily workedon the_sp_oke,_the_
Deacon looked out of the window.
At length Monroe asked sotto voce, 'What
s to be done?"
"Something must," was the Deacon's an
swer, 'or the cause will suffer," and then he
walked rapidly up the•street.
"What's this story about Mr. Haven's im
proper treatinect Of young ladiesr" asked the
cynical lawyer Thompson of Woodward; the
tavern keeper.
"Why," said, the mixer of sherry cobbles
and the drawer of strong beer, -"the parson
ie• no better than others."
I •lfave you heard
_of priest_flaveWs—full?"
was the question of ono infidel to another.
!'Yes, just as I thought it would be—ha,
ha, ha 1"
"Something must be done," were the words
of Deacon Brown, awl that soon, he thought
but did not speak. So from the wheelwright's
be went to the house .of another Deacon,
Benton Johnston. Hs had heard the story,
and being an enemy, believed it, and was de
termined to deal with the offender.
The Deacon called on the minister. Dea
con Johnston was sposesman. The story in
tall was that Mrs. Barnard, a grass widow—
that is, a woman whose husband had gone
off because lie could not live with,her—had
heard as she was passing the parsonage Fan
ny Lawton say to one of the children, 'you
lost a kiss from your father by not being in
the house when he got home this afternoon,
from the lower village, and I got it:
Mr. Haven denied ever having kissed the
girl, and suggested that the Deacons should
wiite to Fanny, who was teaching school a
bout twenty miles distant, and get the truth
of the matter. The 'Deacons did. They
stepped into the minister's study and wrote.
In a few days there came a reply.
"You ask me if on one occasian Rev. Mr.
Haven gave me a kiss—where we were, and
who, were present. In answer I state—Rev.
Mr. Haven did one afternoon while I was
staying at his house, and in the sitting room
gave rue a kiss—no person but ourselves
were present"
Deacon Johnson was elated, and immedi
ately wrote to his wife's cousin, a young can
didate, that there would soon be a vacant
parish, where tie, no doubt, could receive
call
Deacon Brown was thunderstruck and dis-
be doubted; it was so plain a matter there
cotild - be uo mistake. Mr. Haven, atter all
was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Still the
minister denied
,the charge. He could not
do such a thing without being aware of it,
and knew at hehad never.kissed the girl,
or any girl but his • wife, before marriage or
since, in his life. •
Deacon Joheson brought the matter be
fore the church. He was excellent in such
cases. The charge contained tern allega
tions:
1. Rev. Thornton Haven had been guilty
of an impropriety, which rendered itilexpedi
ent that he should be dismissed from the pas
torate. •
11. He had lied in the matter.
Fanny Lawton was sent for, and tiN church
called together. Rev. Solon Dicki*n, the
pastor of a neighboring church, was present
to moderate the meeting. Olu, meeting.
house was filled. Every memr of .tiu
lhurch, b old
~ onCild bed-ridden Polly Stearns,
Iresent. The tavern was well represent-
ed. All the scoffers and semen within halt
a score of miles, who could — get there, were
tier,
• The chnrch meeting was duly opened.—
Deacon Johnson brought forward the charg
es. ,
•
Fanny was called to testify. Her testi
mony was: •
"One afternoon I think it intuit have been
early in March , three of Mr Haven's chil.
cmlf
treoAriF - i.ft - sei were alone in the Bitting
room; their mother had gone to the sewing
circle. I Mr. Raven came into the - house
from the other village; the children met him
at the door which 'opens from the sitting
room into the hall: as, he came in they went
out, and he gave one, as they met him, a
kiss; then coming in gave me one:"
A painful silence followed Miss Lawton's
testimony. At length Deacon Johnson. ask
"Did he close the door before he came in=
to the sitting . room?"
The aoswermas; "I thiok be did."
Had a pin-fallen on the carpet it would
have been heard in any part of our large and
beautiful sanctuary.
Then Mr. Haven rose up and said, "Miss
Lawton, what did you do with that kiss I
gave you?"
"Here it is," said Fanny, bolding up a
specimen of that Species of confectionery
sometimes called a kiss.
Then there was another pause, and silence
dust was oppressive. Ail were too tnueh—i
mond, and either gratified or mortified and
disappointed to move. Most held their
•FP `,48.
ireW3.
"Fanny," said qur blessed minister, "did
ever kiss yon?"
"No, never. I never said you did."
So ended our minister's trial.
Awful 000 urranee.
•= it - Itticw - when we have been more
shocked than in perusing the following. It
occurred in St: Lawrence Co. N. r, and i.
given — tit - I - the authority of a 'gentleman of un
doubted veracity and unimpeachable charac
ter.'
A young man addicted to.iutemperate hub
its, during ime,of his periodical sprees took
a sudden notion to pay a visit to his sweet
heart On the evening alluded. to the young
lady and a female
,associate were the only
occupants of the house where she resided.
About ten o'clock in theevening-th-eyouThig
man arrived at the house considerably worse
from the use of the beverage. Ilia strange
manner in approaching the door excited the
suspicion of the young ladies, w_hoesupposed_ i
the house to be attacked by robberS._l-le_
- knocked — at the door and demandedadmis
mission, but his voice not being recognized
from the thickness of his tongue, the ladien
refueed_to admit him.
Determined to force an •entrance, he com
menced a series of assault upon the-barred
and bolted door by kicking and pounding.—
After a number of desperate-kicks thi - panel
of the doof - gave way, and . the leg of the be.
sieger went through the aperture, and, wea
immediately . siesed' by one of the ladies and
firmly held; while the other, armed with a
saw commenced the work of amputation !
The grasp was firmly maintained, and tho
saw vigorously plied till the leg was com
pletely severed from the body of the young
man!
With the :oss of his kg, the intoxicated
wretch fell upon his back, and in that condi
tion lay the remainder ol the night.
In the meantime the ladies were frighten
ed almost to death. With the dawn of morn
ing the revelation was made that one of the
ladies had participated in the autpatution of
the leg of her lover!
The wounded man was still alive. his
friends were immediately sent for, and he
was conveyed to his home, where with prop
er treatment, be gradually and miraculously.
recovered, and ho is now alive and well.
"We hardly oiedited,!'says the editor of
the journal from which we take the above,
"the latter part of the - story,"and contended
that the man 'must have bled to death on the
spot, insisting, indeed, that it could not be
otherwise. But we were mistaken—
ma ley- wai a wooden one!
Old Bachelors
"Talk about old maids I" says a lady cor
respondent,llif-there-is ant
featly abhor, it is an old bachelor. There's
one of my acquaintances, for instance. (1
am sorry to acknowledge the fact,) who has
spent over fifty years of miserable bachelor
hood, itinerating from place to place, until
he has become so shrivelled and dried •that
his bones rattle when he walks, like an emp
ty barrel on a wheelbarrow. His face has
become of the hue of saffron, and• his hair
a Strange imitation if red pepper and salt.—
It is not hlr fault., the reason he, has
never struck a match lie has been vainly
endeavoring to light one at the hymieneal al-
board recently at a hotel, kept by a friend of
mine who knowing his forlorn condition, re
solved to act accordingly.. The hour for re
firing
came and Mr. le., was assigned to No
74. Repairing thither, what was his ant
prise and delight to find sweetly slumbering
there a maid, fairer to his infatuated — sight
than ought he had ever seen before S Long
he gazed, while_thehours-flew-swiftly-,
Could he but catch a glimpse of her face—
but no,
that was turned away from him.
He locked the door; a thought had struck
hint—ihe should'nt escape from him now --;-
The parson did not lire far off: he would
carry her there and he married before the
morning revealed his age.—l will not• die-
Mose further.. Suffice it to say, the landla
dy found in the morning be had run away
with a girl wade out of her nightgown, a roll
of ma Wog, a broomstick, and a pair of tongs!"
AN IRISH MIRACLE.—Mias Cobb; in an
arlOt
Juror o
Lions," in the Victoria Magazine, tells the
following-story-ofan-Irish-dtaitio ,• , -
acle:
A_ sriest_inireland,havingpre,tched-nse
mon on miracles, was asked by one of his
congregation ' walking homeward, to explain
a little more lucidly what a "miricle" meant
"Is it a merakle you want to understand ?"
said the priest. "Walk on then there fer
niest me, and I think how I can explain it
to you." The man walked on, and the priest
came after 'him and gave him a tremendo ,
kick. "Ughl" mired the sufferer, "why did
you do that ?" "Did you feel it?" asked the
priest. "To be sure I did," replied the man.
•'Well, then, it would have been a miracle
if yon had not," returned the priest.
Why should a thirsty man always carry a
watch? , Bocauso thOWS B spring iusido' of
It.
[For the Viliaj l t Record.
NOTHING FORDIEVIDI VAIN•
DY JS A. h.; qvitroir site& eighth.
The sun and moph thst•shiije
Above our heads so high,
The little stars that twinkle;
So brightly in the sky, -
And all the rapid rivers
That flow with might and main,
Were molded each for something
And nothing fornied in vain. -
Even the shrubs and lilies • •
That are filled with perfume,
Tht; hyacinths and roses,
That deck your yard with bloom,
And every herb or flower
That grows from root or grain,
Was also formed for something
And nothing formed in vain.
The vast and mighty ocean,
And the beauteous laud
Was for
By One, All.powei
He gave the winds their mission,
The storms their wild dom ain,
And all was formed fot something,
And nothing formed in vain.
The Fury of a Woman Scorned.
A terriole illustration of what a scorned
woman's fury will lead her to do, occurred,
recently, in Jttilwaukie. A lady of thlttL
re nedly—frouacrll,_
ss
in the room usually oc
cupied by herself and husbaud.• The door
being closed, she was reduced to the keyhole,
and to this aperture she applied her eye.—
She saw the future of a woman ;_stauding_by
ealous wife, ae-
er was the husband of they
Ifiallfengaged adjusting a shawl upon the
shoulder of the female intruder. The wife
went to another room, took % loaded shot gun,
returned, opened the door, and deliberately
shot the strange woman iu the back. The
husband screamed, the wile . fainted. When
the 1. " id
/atter rewrite( to — cou - smousness, she
found the wretch of a husband bending over
her, with a well feigned solicitude in his
glance Mutual explanation ensued, and the
body of the woman' who had been shot was
brought in. it was a dummy ! • The hus
baud,. who pursued the respectable calling of
a retail dry goods dealer, was wont to use this
figure to exhibit the mantillas and shawls
with which he desired to charm the eyes of
the Alilwaukie ladies. The dummy, front
long exposure and hard • usage, had, become
shabby, and the merchant bad that morning
brought it from the shop for the purpose of
renovating its exterior. Not finding his wife,
he was trying in his awkward way to do the
work, add probably swearing at his clumsy
attempts, when his wife, mistaking the ac
cents of passion, let fly the fatal shot. This
tragedy in real life will teach her a lesson,
• •.
perhaps.
Touch not my Sistor's Picture.
The following incident was related by a
Confederate prisoner to an attendant, who by
many acts of kindness had won his confi
dence
"I was searching for spoils among the dead
and dying upon a deserted battle field, when
I discovered a small gold locket upon the
person of a dying boy, apparently about fif
teen years of age. As 1 endeavored to loose
it from his grasp, he opened his languid eyes
and implored me, by all that was ood and
pure, by o memory of my own mother, not
to rob him of his sister's picture. 'Oh !' said
he, 'it was her last gift. I promised' her.
when she kissed my cheek at parting, that 1
would always wear it next my heart, in life
ar death.' Then, as if throwing his whole
soul into the plea, he exclaimed
!
touch not my sister's picture As the last
words faltered upon his tongue, his voice
hushed in death. By tho dim light of the
stars I hastily scooped a shallow grave, and
buried him with his sister's picture lying up
on his breast."
a e wars ot is wor i pra.ab y pone
were ever waged upon juseer principles than
the present. Grant the principle 'of seces
sion, and there is not a nation on the earth
that can stand longer than the whims and
caprices of telly and ambition, will allow.—
Permanence in government becomes impos•
Bible.
Secessiou is devised for ruin, and has no
.ther-end-or-teudency. Au. - should the - chi - 1.
dren of the present actors reap its fruits they
will curse the heads that:devised, and : the
hands that brought it to pass."
It is said that when Gen. Grant was going
down from Washington .to the front, the,
train, having attached to it the special ear,
stopped at Brandy Station. Some soldiers
who were waiting to go down asked' if. they
could not get in the Zar. "No," was the an
swer of the officer; "this is Gen. Grant's spe
cial car." Gen Grant, who was sitting by
the winslow_said_reneral—Grant—oeou
pies only one'seat; the soldiers can ride.
EW AUBE TOR RATITUDE'TO GOD.
—Rev. Dr. Storrs, in his address at. the an
itirersarresereises,3
ivary, said that a returned prisoner lately re
marked that while at the South he could ea
sily endure the taints of men, but that he
had never before realized what and how ter
rible was the stinging hate of woman, so' in
tense, bitter, and beyond all belief, and had
come back with one additional mercy for
hick to
a woman.
Religion comes trout women more than
from tnett-:- from mothett moat of all, who 'ea.
ry tho' key of our smile in their besoinal:
_
j or
Sorrow can never ,wliolly fill ihe lie tffiat
is occupied with others : , welfargt. -9 ot
n ,
ielanoholyis rebellioir. ,•,-. ,:, -- :
n-nlotio
ul Fiend.
• e evt was
~ •.,
--. ).-..;r.,
^.t . .r; :.:. 4: . .if:;',.. - ::::. ,
j
SX.itiCVD,is2,orrezt.zi.
PADDY O'REILLY'S REI•Eis.-r-V1i10.9 o'.
Reilly ; ,the soldier whe:waSikfested on. * Mor,-
ifs Islona, fOr making soine• hard poe•
try, and paidoired by the Piesidenthi regard
to a witty poetical petition, • has arrived in
New' York ou a furlough; and met with-an
enthusiastic reception by his old mates. kita
has Sent a hymn of thanki A tO the, Pieltdent,
begEnning:
"Long life.to. you. Misther Lincoln; .
Manor' die both late an' aisy;
An' whin yotklie wid tho top of aich toe
Turned up to the foots of a daitiy,
Nay this be your epitaph, nately writ:
"Though thraitors abased him' vilely,- •
He was honest an' kindly, he loved a Jac,'
"Au' he parcluaed Miles O'Reilly." • .
High station, riches and magnificent RV
; parel truly, in the world in which we live,
give, (so it is said) many friends, for they
rank us among men. Money has every hero
its charms. It is alone the sincere friend ;
for when:*l4_d_t OppearsAteic.arerim-m(4&
friends on earth
"A LEET
f-"SOlrie• mon thrsince,
wrttes a correspondent from Rondout, on the
Hudson, "our minister was impressing upon
his hearers the duty of a greater regard "Dr
the services of the day of Thanksgiving, set
apart by the Governor, and was informing
them that on that day he would preach s
sermon at that place, and he wished thorn alt
to attend, to render, in a proper manner, ad
-kuorrients for the r many benefits of the
past year—for a season of bcalfh and boun
tiful harvests, etc." Here a little wiry man,
in a blue coat, with metal buttans, and a very
elevated collar, popped up from his Seat and
squeaked out : "poutinie, I wish you'd jet'
-the
gtvo the 'dater rut a leetle tech in ihatsar
- inowo' - youTtilri — Efeen dreadful bad with
us !"
--N~~f ~_"'_
. A restless genius, who went-to 7 a Quaker
tmeeting, and after bearing a decorous gravity
for an hour or two,_at -last declared he avulil
stand it no longer.
"Why," said.he, "it's enough to tire the
very d-----out." 'Yes, friend," responded
an eluerly gentleman .01 the congregation,
'doe, thee know that is exactly what we
:want ?"
Jemmy remarked to his grandmother that
old Mrs. Clranshaw hadihe apphatanoe of a
person with one foot in the grave. "Well,
really, upon my word," said the antique lady.
"I thought I noticed she walked a little lame
lately."
„.
•'How sharp your toe-nails are," as Pad
dy said when he caught the hornet.
There is alady in Boston who is habitu
ally so Sleepy that her curiosity cannot be a
wakened.
Our devil says that getting in love is some
what like getting drank,, the more a fellow
does it the more he wants to.
"Facts speak for themse Ives," as theloa f
er said when he surveyed his tattered panti
loons. •
The lady who "pis lost in amazement, has
peen found. • -
Lean liberty is better than fat slavery
It is not easy to straighten in the oak the
crouk that grew iu the Stl
There is ono good wife - in the country,
and every man thinks he hath her.
That's but an empty purse that is full of
other folk's looney.
One might as well be out of the world as
.beloved by nobody in it.,
Advise not what is the most pleasant, but
the most useful.
Be contented and thankful; a cheerful
rit makes labor light, sleep sweet and all a-
If youth is a blunder, manhood is *strug
gle, old age a,regret.
A bleeding finger is more noticed than a
bleeding heart.
Friendship-is - the-medicine - fin
but iugratitade dries up all goodness.
Everybody condemns scandal; yet no - thing
circulates more readily.
Without a rich heart, wealth is an ugly
beggar.
Never do that by proxy what you can do
yourself.
Woe to those preachers wholistee not 1 , 0
themselves.
What you must do, do cheerfully and gra
ciouel .
Let a man do his best, and theworki.mag
Coatent is the wealth. of nature
Avoid a:slanderer,- as yon would a toad
nog. -
• The best outlay of money is nu . g.d3d
deeds. ,
A long face is - plagny apt to cover t,loiy + 7
conscience.
A 'spare and 'simple diet colytibutiii
prolongation
Traeatii , Viet taatoil4rielira,;:i;o6 6 k . C .
gale of witi!L '
4f
Pnenk'nii '
aalikv:f.
Thoighte of
are like.the,irane
ed, which sem ,
•
t ' 1 'll
1.
~YI~-
I~`~?~' r. ..
lIER-5
mis or one,