, v.. . - . , ' ' ' .. - ~. ..., '.....,.*“..4. • .....: '' A nh - :4 2. .... ~ 4 4 , ' , .. -- 7"7"'" ...... ..t t , ' , 7 A • , I ' • • ~ . . ' t N•, • . • • 4 , ts t' - ^• , # +...,.,!r • 1' ' '• . :i. ' . ' - ' - ~ . ' Y. s. , • ' • . ^ ~.., •A • •• ,' ' ' ''''' i, .! 4 4 ' 4 * , • • „ ',,,. ') fo / 0.• ~1 # .... •JI E , © , B • , . , A N V[l LIL ---- 'B ------ ----5-1 ~ I .1... :. . t . , wr,:, , ~.., ... 4 , _it. . . „ . 7 : : : :,. .,' .. , ,Lztz__ ,,..' i :1 4 " ;;;;,i ,,- .' t3 4 - %. 1 1 .e...„ c_.111...0” ,1., p yr s- 5 ... ~ cr ,,7 ;...t . ...,H. „2„3 . 1 s tli m ilre i% - >weorrx . "'- ' ,r_k . "11011.? ., .; ..r2• rl'i . *...- i'^'' , f . ~ • .• ' • .. . . r ' , • 4 fir ...-.3t144 lEitv• VOLUME XVIII PO~T=O.AX.. DEPAingt Farewell to the home of my childhood. The dearest my heart,ever knew; , To garden,,and meadow and wildwomi, Where sweet•scented anemones grew, 'Farewell to the cottage reposing So cosi:y under its vines, With hedges of hawthorne enclosing The lawn with its fringes of pines. Farewell to thesbrooklet that fiances • So meilly down in the dell, That threw me its merriest glances . And sang me its ditty, so well; The trees in whose shade I have pondered What changes the Datum might hring, The fields where so often I've wandered,• To pluck the first flowers of spring. Perchance I may never behold thee, ; -cenes of my childhood, again; But memory e'er shall enfold thee About with bar magical train. I'll dream of thy sunlighted fountains, rid never, where iferl may. roam, Porget the far range of blue mountains That circled the vale .of my home, —•— 0, home iifruy childhood, th - e — sweetcsti - • The dearest I ever shall see! - The 4Jays were the brighcst and the fleetest) That sped while I lingered in thee. • 1 gathered sweet:scented flower, ' - That over the olden porch fell, And passing from garden and bower, I murmur a silent farewell. Child's Diming Prayer. Etc. in my bed my limbs I lay, God grant me grace my prayer to say! - ' 0 God, preserve my mollier dear in health and strength for many a year! And 0, preserve my father-too, And may I pay him reverence due; And may l my-best-thoughts_emplay To be my parents' hope and joy! My sisters and my brothers both, • From evil guard, and save from sloth; And may we always love each other, Our friends, our father, and our mother; And still, 0 Lord to me impart • A contrite. pure and grateful heart, That after my last. sleep I may Awake to Thy eternal day! Amon • • IVIEJEtaifiCIMI_SI.II. 4 LWW. GEN. JACKSON AND HIS CLERE While General Jackson was President of the - United States, he was tormented day af ter day by importunate visitors, (as mast I Ma:istrates of this great nation are), whom lie did not care to see, an in conse quence, gave strict directions to the messen ger at the door •to admit only certain per sons on a particular day, when he was more busy with State affairs than usual. In spite of the peretiiptory orders, howev er, the attendant bolted into the apartment during the afternoon and informed the Gen eral that a person was outside whom he. could not control, and who claimed to see him, orders or no orders. won 2 t submit to this annoyance,' ex claimed the old gentleman, nervously, 'Who is it ?' 'Don't know, sir.' Don't know '. What's his name ?' 'ffis name ! Beg your pardon, air, it's a woman.' 'A. woman !. Show her in,' said the Pres ident' Wiping his' face, and in the next mo ment there entered the General's apartment a neatly clad female of past the middle age, who advanced courteously toward the old gentleman and accepted the chair offered . her. 'Be seated madam,' he 'said. ' • 'Thank you,' said the lady throwing aside her veil, revealing a handsome face to her entertainer,''my mission hither to-day, Gen eral continued the fair speaker. 'is a novel one, and you can aid me perhaps? 'Madam,' said the Gronerar'cotnniand me.' • 'You are very kind, sir. lam a poor woman, General— ) ''Poverty is no crime, madam.' '1 . )1o, sir.' But I have a little family to care for. I'm a widow, sir, and a clerk em ployed in one of the Departments of your Administration is indebted to me for board to a considerable amount, whiCh I cannot collect. I need the money badly, and came to ask if a portion of his pay cannot be stop. ped from time to time until this claim of mine, an honest one, General, of which he had the full value shall be cancelled. really—madam—that is, I have no con trol in that way. What is the amount of 'Seventy dollars, sir, here it is.' 4Exactly,l see ; and his salary madam?' - 'lt is: said to be $1,200 a year.' 'And 'And not pay his board bill 7' - 'As you see, sir, this has been standing Eve -montbslmpaid. Three days hence he will draw his monthly pay, and I thought, -sir, if you would be kind'enough to—' 'Yes, I have it. Go to him again and get his note at thirty days.' 'His note sir I It wouldn't be worth the, paper on which it was written; he pays no -one a dollir voluntarily.' ' 'Bit he will give you his, note, will he not `madam 7' - . 'Oh, yes he would no doubt the glad -to have a respite in that way for a month,' 'That's right then. Go to•him and obtain his note at I birty °days from to•doy; him V 1 4123:11.17 . WettlaCrEd 3 ELl,Coi s a Neutral 123. ark .C 1 X=l.43ll.alCirit WAYNESiRO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY NiORNING,-.IANUARY 13, 1861' a receipt in full, and come to um this even ing.' The lady+departed, called upon the .elesk, and dunned him for the mon t, at which he only smiled, and she finally ked him for his note. 'To be sure,' said he with a oh ckle, ',give a note ? Sart'n, and much good May it do you mum. 'You'll pay, it when it falls due, won't you?' said the lady. 'Oh certainly, was the reply. • In the evening she again repaired to the White House with the note. The President put his broad endorsement on the back and directed her to obtain the cash at the bank. In due time a notiee was sent to the clerk I that a note signed by him would be due on a particular day," which he was requested to pay. At first John could nit conceive the source from whence the demand came; and suppos ing that it had only been left for collection, was half resolved to take no notice of it.— But as he passed dote' • e avenue, the un paid board bill sudden e , tered his head. • 'Who had been f nongh to help the old woman in this b sem, I wonder,' said Sohn to himself. ' l.go and see. It's _a hum I know; but I'd 11 , e to k tow if she's really. fooled anybody wi lh that ,it of paper,' and entering the bank, he as d for the note that had been left there or collection against him. 'lt was discounted,' replied the teller. ted I Who-in-t-he world will dis• count my note ?' asked the clerk. 'Anybody with such a. backer as you have on aris:' 'Backer ? me—backer—who ?' 'Here's the note; you•can see,' said the tel ler, handing him the document, on which he recognised the bold signature of President Jackson. 'Sold truly !' exclaimed John, with a hys teric gasp, and drawing forth the money, for lie saw through the arrangement at a glance. The note' as paid, of course, andjustice was awarded the spendthrift at once. On the next morning he-found upon his desk a note, which contained the following bit of personal intelligence. 'Stu :—A change has been made in your office.. I am directed by the President to in form you that your serviees will no longer be needed in this Department ' • Yours, &e., ' John S—retired to private life at once, and'tlwuceforth found it convenient to live on a much smaller allowance than twelve hundred dollars a year. 11111=== THE CAREFUL 11 CATSKEErErt.—"Therp aro those balusters all finger-Marks again," said Mrs. Carey, as she made , haste with a soft linen cloth to polish down_ the shininc , oak again. "George," she said, with a flushed face, as she gave the cloth a dectdcd wrench out of the basin of suds, "if you go up those stairs again before bed time you shall be pun ished." ‘. ; I should like to know where I can go ?" said George, angrily. "I can't stay in the .-'tchen,__LarnAolirohe way, and I can't , o into the'parlor for fear that I shall muss that up, and now you say I can't go to my own room." "I know a grand place where I can go," lie added to Lhasalf, "boys are never told they are in the way there, and we can have lots of fun. I'll go down to Niles' Conics., I can smoke a cigar as well as any boy, if it did make me feel awful sick the first time.— They shall not laugh at me again about it." And so the careful houskecper virtually drove her son from her door, to hang about the steps and sit under the broad, inviting portico of the village grog stiop. 110 you think she gained or lost 7 ITEAVY TAX ON WIIISKEY.—There is a firm of distillers in Westmoreland county, ,which pays, $70,000 as an annual tax on their production of whiskey. In Pittsburg, there is a distiller whose tax amounts annually to SSO,OOO. At first sight, these items would indicate that the Government receives a vast revenue from the whiskey business: — This is all a mistake, as any sensible man . knows: Indeed, if the nation were deprived ,of the entire revenue.derived by the manufacture of the ardent, the Government would still be benefitted, simply because by the vice of in temperance, produced by the use of alchohol, labor is depreciated, pauper ism and crime in et eased, and a thousand drawback'on the pro gress of the nation created. "My dear Ellen," said an ardent lover to a young lady whose smiles he was seeking," I have long wished for this opportunity, but I hardly dare trust myself now to speak the deep emotions of my palpitating heart; but I declare to you.my dear Ellen, that I love you most tenderly; your smile would shed— would shed—would shed—" "Never mind the woodshed," said Ellen, "go on with that porty talk " , A little boy disputing with his sister on some subject, exclaimed, "It is true, for ma says so; and if ma says so, it is so, if it ain't so. This chilciish.faith is very beautiful. , We were reading, not long since, where a Sunday school teacher naked his scholars if they ever knew a person who was always right. One little fellow raised-his hand, and replied, "I do: its soy mother." A. farmer having lost sonic kicks, vas asked, by the counsel for the prisoner mace sed of statling.them,-to describe their pe culiarity. After ho bad done so the coun sel remarked. "They can't be such a rare breed, as ',have, some such in my yard."— "That's very likely." said the farmer; "these are not the only ducks of the same sort I've had stolen lately.". Neverattetapt' to mend a joke that hag. been cracked. • ' It is the life-boat of eternity, moored in the haven of mortal bliss. pervades hea ven and earth, and it melts the. will of man as frost. It gave Adam an Eden, and brought Omnipotence down that men might live.— Who can fathom its depth, or measure its unlitnited• power ? Thrones are moved by its gentle•and persuasive logic, and u mocks at the selfishness and vanity of man, because its Author is God. It flashes its benignant smiles from every star of heaven, and whis pers joy and peace to our souls through the tears of the tempest. The supreme element of all that is good amongst 'Angels or men, It chastises the mighty, abases the haughty, and exaltirthe humble. It ga'e a Saviour to a lost world, and• it glows in every tear He shed, and is seen in every nail that fastened Him to the Cross! The winds bowl it; the mournful cadence of the 'zephyr whisper it; the birds warble it; glittering warlds proclaim it; and the Bow of Promise is guilt' by its coruscation of divine splendor. Flow migh ty are thy works, oh ! love.—Come down from heaven and behold it here amid the barren wastes of earth. See yonder bride approach the altar., The bloom of health and beauty sits enthroned in modest gran dtier upon her cheek; the rosy tints of life and animation beam' from her angelic brow; the silken curls of youth cluster about her forehead in golden ringlet 4 her eye dart: , ef fulgent fire upon her adorer, but she offers all, willingly and voluntarily upon the altar of her devotion. Approach the bedside- of the snlferer._ Disease has done_its_work.— The bright hours of morning have fled, and that noble and manly heart flutters in the last agonies of dissolution. A. =tuner, pale with watching and anxiety bends over him, and kisses his pallid cheek. She wipes the death-damp from his brow, and whispers sweet words into his ear. Oh, love ! the grave is stripped of its terrors by thy charios. It braves the storms of battle and soothes the pain of the suffering here. It binds up the bleeding brow; folds the pulseless arms upon the manly bosom; softens the blood stained pillow, and kneels to catch the last sweet message from dying lips! , Nor does it stop hero. The grave swallows up every de fect and extinguishes every resentment, but it cannot hide the face of a loved one. Love bursts the iey barriers of the tomb, and dis robes death of its ghastly terrors. It brings the weeping mother to the narrow prison of her seraphic babe, that her tears may min gle with its precius dust, and her spirit com mune with that holy band, whose harps, at tuned to the melody of eternal years, swell with rapture beyond the skies ! Love can not die, because "kcl is love." FZZM Remorse of Dying Infidels _ . John Wilmot, Lord Rochester, was an ac complished nobleman, and a favoiite of Cha's H. He became dissolute,* a votary to the wine cup and to sensual pleasures, and a de fender of infidelity. lie confessed to Dr. Burnet that, for five, years, his dissipation was so excessive that he was at no time mas- raf-trinrelf — The of thirty-uno found him with his physical powers ruined, and his prospects of life precarious. His infidel prin. ciples forsook him, and trembling in view of future punishment, he turned penitently to God. During his protracted illoesb,ohe Orb 'hired a confession of his errors, declaring that ."he left to the world this last declara tion, which he delivered in the presence of a great God, who knows the secrets of all hearts, and before whom he was preparing to be judged, that, from the bottom of his soul, he detested and abhorred the whole course of his former wicked life." "0, re member," he said to a friend who visited him on his deathbed, "that you contemn God no more. Ile is an avenging God, and will vis it you for yetr sins, and will, I ho,pe, touch your conscience, sooner or later, as he has don mine., You and I have been friends and sinners together a great while, and there fore, I am the more free with you. We have been all mistaken in our conceits and opin ions;_ our persuasions have been false and groundless. Therefore, God grant you re pentance." .‘l. am abandoned by God and maul" ex claimed Voltaire in his last sickness. Af ter a long exile, be had returned to Paris in triumph. His name was the signal for en thusiasm. He had even feared that he should expire amid the acclamation which his pres ence called forth at the theatre, But nei ther the shout of the -populace, nor. the as surance of his atheistical friends, could stay his faith on bis own philosophy in the pros pect of the coming judgement. Be renoun ced his opinions, but diedin the expectation of future retribution. "Guenard has said it I Guenard has said it !" mournfully sai&Carclinal Mazarin, al luding to the declaration of his physician that he must die. Ile was heard to exclaim, "Oh, my poor soul, what will become of thee? Whither wilt thou go F" To the queen-dowager of France he said, "Mad ame, your favors have undone me. Were 1 to live again,'l would be a monk rather than a courtier." Such were the sober re flections of an ecclesiastic whose boundless ambition had over-'ruled his sense of moral obligation, and whose adroit policy had vir tually placed in his hands the' sceptre of Franca. But Mazarin, 'though awakened to his situation, was too much joined to his "'politics and pleasure to turn manfully to his religion. Cards were one of his last amuse ments; and when dying, he ordered himself. to be rouged and dressed, that he might re ceive the flattery of his bourtieis_on_his up-, parent recovery. .' There are hours of sober thought, and tirnes.of imminent peril, when tho soul seems to forecast the dying bour—when it starts at tbe.view of its conscious errors, and ut ters, as from dying. lips, its settled convic. dons. Hobbes was subject to the mos(..;loo. [Fox Tiiioßtcconi). LAVE. MUCUS. my refleotions,,and was - thrown*, , • • of terror if left alone in the dark, He de clared, on one occasion, that, had he the whole'world to dispose of, he weal give it for a single day to live. He died with" tiro declaration that he was taking a• leap tn the dark. Paine, in his last sickness would cry out with affright if left along night or day. Volney, after deriding religion, while sailing on Lake Wario r was thrown into a state of bonsternatibTa very inconsistent with his phi losophy, as a sudden storm exp'osed him to imminent peril.. Shelley, during a storm at sea, was stupefied with terror 'and when the danger was past, declared to Lord Byron that he tasted so much of the bitterness of death, that; in the future, he should entertain doubts of his own creed. The. Final Results of UuS•War The following. speculative article on the results of the war is from the editorial col umns of the Philadelphia Ledger, and as it embraces so comprehensive a view of the great 'question, and so probable a situation we give it place for the benefit of our read ers: A great war always greatly changes any nation engaged in it. The wars of'the First French Revolution and of Napoleon broke up-the stagnation, not only of Fretich His tory, but of that of all Europe. The wars of the Crusaders set in operation those move merits which dispersed the dark ages and produced the Revival of Learning. There can be no doubt, therefore, that the present war will produce vast changes , in the con dition of this nation—changes far beyond -those calculated upon by superficial thinkers —far beyond any affecting merely the rela tive•positions of the white man and the ne gro; but the changes so wide spread that it will take long pages of future history add philosophy fully to unravel. In the North no person can step into a railway car but what the rapid change which is going on must be apparent to hini. Ma ny are travelling who never travelled before in cars and on steamboats, so that the trav elling mass is quite different from what it used to be. Formerly only merchants and professional men and persons of wealth and leisure travelled, but now the whelo country, in one form or another, either as soldiers, fathers; brothers, sisters, mothers of•soldiers, are passing to and fro in every train. Those depths of society which are usual ly least disturbed by. ordinary movements have been agitated and wakened up into life and activity unparalleled in history. There is hardly alamily but has some of its sons with one or more of our armies in the South, and all this enlarges the mind and expands the ideas amazingly. There hare been no such extensive campaigns fought before since railroads move men. The Crusades calling out the armies of Europe'io the Holy Land produced a vast effect in waking up the in tellectual life of Europe. What then must and will be the result of such a war as the present, where soldiers go a thousand or two miles on furlough, and write letters by eve ry post in such quantities as no other nation can parallel 7 Every newspaper coriveys'the latest teleirraphithe min ntpst_fea, tures in the domestic life of every Men and, village visited by our forces. Men a,re thrown together also in masses who before lived sequestered, and by comparing their observations educate each other. All this will produce an intellectual activity for which past history will afford no precedent. While the riches of the masses will produce a de mand for merchandise that will make the merchants and professional classes rich also. Already the best schools and institutions of learning, especially for young ladies, are crowded to excess, and academies and even colleges 'show such increased numbers that the draft is not felt upon them. The , abun dance of money is increasing the demand for education to such an , extent that this war produces no effect injurious to thorn.— This is, we believe, unprecedented. What the effect of the war will be upon the South eventually, who shall predict ? But the masses of the poor whites will be much enlightened by all they have passed through and their contact with Northern mind. They will be no longer controlled by a few wealthy leaders: Northern energy will be diffused in various ways throughout those Southern sections whose fertility is incalcu lable. When the present rebellion has been put down, the progresS of this country as a whole will probably be very much nipre rapid than at any former period,' and the history of a now life will begin from the present war.— The whole world will be affectad by it most sensibly. The wealth of Germany and the population of Ireland b will be found transpor ted to a wonderful extent to our shores. The privileged classes of the Old in our success, as Professor Goodiritt'latltb, well remarked, their own downfall. But the' masses of the people of all,Europe will find it prognostic of their own progress in liberty. It will take all history . to narrate the full ef fect of the great conflict in which weave UQW engaged. - A gentleman, who recently traveled over a Western railroad,. declares his opinion that it is the safest road in the country, as the su perintendent keeps a boy.running ahead of the train to drive off the cows and sheep In Turkey, whenever business man is ,c^:A:vieted of telling a lie,his house is paint- V, e r black, to remain so f a month. We fear black would be, the prevailing color if -diet law was in force in this country. - An apothecary's clerk in Chicago was call ed at two o'clock the other morning, by the ringing of the night bell. On opening the door he found a damsel who . told him that sho was going to a pionid,that morning and she was out of roguo. The impudent drug gist turned her off with the assurance that ho hadn't the rock to corer checks like both. 3 MARCH—THE FOA a etreszoit. Sheiman's march has fully exploded-the common error that the IlebOlion - could be started 'out; that the constant drahi upon the white working classes to Ell the armies of the Confederacy would leave the ground untitl ed, and granaries unfilled% Wherever we moved, from Covington to , Savannah, every plantatiob was abundantly stocked, aad the barns groaned under the corn and wheat that the fall harvest had produced. Every -farm house-yard was ilecoisted with sweet potato pits and corn bins, 'which were' very thor oughly cleared out by the tan in their search for the "staff of life. ' If the counties through which Sherman's column passed can be• taken. AS a basis upon which to ground an estimate, the Georgians have furnished enough subsistente yearly to feed fifty thousand men. Every planter pays .tithes to the Government on everything rais ed—a stipulated amount for every negro on his plantation. Sworn statements of the a mount produced must bo furnished to the of: fiver of the Government. So heavy are the taxes that on all planta tions the negrod are compelled to worfues.- tra• time to pay the expenses of clothing them. On Harris' plantation, near Corinn ton, and old grey-headed African informed me that the hands were worked fourteen hours per day, and sometimes twenty, for a month at a time. None of them get more than one coarse suit per year, to earn which .they must labor two hours extra every day in the year. They are usually found horri bly clad, nothing to cover their bodies but ragged pantaloons and shirt, with patches representing all the colors of the rainbow' An old colored female one day approached the column, and entering into conversation, expressed great surprise as to where we all came from. A wag informed her that old Lincoln had a very productive field away lip North where he raised them at the rate of a million per year. Turning up her white eyes in astonishmont, she exclaimed: "For de Lord's sake, you don't pay so!-- How does he grow 'em." "Oh;" was the reply, "it is very simple.— Be gathers up all the dead Rebels from the battle-fields, plants them down in Massachu setts; after a while they begin to sprout, and the moment they see a ohicken they make for it, when Lincoln's provost-guard catches them and grafts them into the army." "Bless ye, say so! And are you 'uns dead Rebels!" "No, we used to bo, but we're now live Yankees. I'm Bishop Polk who Vettehed down here in Dixie." "De debil you are!" exclaimed' the excited wench. "And what are you doin' . here 1— Come after Misses Bishop and do chador?" "No, —the children!" was the profane re ply. "I've come to assist in •whaling—out of Jeff. Davis." "You'll hab to cotch him first," was the quick response; "guess it's done gone job." "Well we'll see," said the soldier! "it's a -race-between-us-aad-t-he-devili-and-mayb, ' , Old Nick wll win the heat." "Shouldn't wonder. Dis nigger don't care ueder," remarked the dusky matron, as she right-wheeled and double-quickoned it back to the house. The sentiments of the people rarely find utterance even in the presence of the Yan kees. But, when they do spdak it is not in vain eulogy of the rebel army'and the cause in which they are engaged. They are bro ken in spirits,_and the hauty Secession la dies, who by force of "arms" and' tongue drove their brothers, sons and lovers into the army, are now as meek as singed kittens, and only too glad to smile upon a good looking Yankee. They all frankly admit that their cause is hopeless; that subjugation awaits them in the future, and all they now wish is for the storm to burst and pass; that .eaoe with them, crushed beneath the Yankee tl, is preferable to the present state of'things. "Great Goal" exclaimed ono very intelli gent Milledgeville lady, whose all had been taken, "little did I think, when I bade my, near_boys, who now sleep in their graves, good by, and peeked them off, that. this day would come, when old, impoverished and ' childless. I must. ask . the men whom they fought against for a meal of victuals to sat isfy my hunger. But it serves me right; I was deceived, drove them to battle, death and infamy, and here I stand, their murder er."— Corr csponu once of the Nem' York Iler ,6lcl. , A wag tried to annoy a popular preacher by asking him lather the fatted calf of the of the pars!, was male or female. "Female, lo be mire' was the reply, "for I sec the *le," °king his questioner full in the face, "ye alive in the flesh before me." • , An exceedingly modest young.lady desir ing a leg ,of chicken at the table, said : take the part that ought to be dressed in drawers." A nit° young gentleman who sat opposito, immediately said: take the part which ought to wear the bustle T' RICH AND Pooa,.—"Ma , " said an inquis itive little girl, "will rich and poor people live together when they go to heaven ?" "Yes, my dear, they will be all alike there." "Then ma , why don't rich and.poor Chris tians arsociato together here l'" The rich mother did not answer. "Swear not at all," said a chaplain ,to a trooper. He replied, ".I-do not swear et' 11, but only ,at those who annoy tae:" BULLY itn, fiaz.-4. widow , of 4.... yearn bas just had her broken haisro' by a verdict, of. $2,000 from nu unitiitlifti lover a 80, in Wayne county, Ohio. The old scamp: 02.00 rerltear NUMBEB;' ~1. .When, we t s Nbata mamis, we don't ack, how he'imreateaied. Thb fruits df a tree afford a better, test of its condition than a statiuntnt "of dm composts used in dressino• These slippery 'days are the, da'ys that try teen's soles; and he who perils thellints of the public by neglecting to strew ashes on his sidewalk, may be • considered to have no soul at A. Take uistrittg that will - reach twice around the seek. of 6,:youti g lady, let her hold the ends in her teeth, and then IF the noose will slip over her head to the.haek, of her neck, it is a cancan. indication. , Out she is married, or wants to be. . .A publisher of a paper out West,. in the. &it issue of his parnal, returns thanks to those alit) have loaned him poeuniary means, and gratitude to lleaven that there is no law in that State, enforcing in prisonment for debt;.' Fobbs says that he ought to be consider ed,a great friend of the temperance cause, for he has made as great effprts to put down liquor as anybody._ Judging from the see, dy appearance of Fob,* liquor has . often put hitu down, too. ' • Mint julips were invented, it is said, by a Southern editor, who, having kissed a pret ty girl after she bald eaten some mint, was so iutoxieated with pleasure that he devoted several months to producing an article which would recall the original .as vividly as possi ble. Why arc the ladies• the bip,...iest thieves in sexisteuee Because they steel petieoats, Lone stays, crib, their babies and hook their dresses To take out grease spots; cut them oub with scissors. Dobbs says, of all the bud habits, smoking in his eyes is the worst. Why is a steel scabbard like an old toper ? Because it is a hard ease. An Irishman said the only way to stop suicide, is to wake it a capital offence pun ishable with death." A suspicion is afloat that persons who can not cat mince pies• without brady, can drink brandy without mince pies. The following regular toast was drank at the 4th of July celebration at 13aldwinsville: Dauis, Betturegard 4• Co —A volunteer corps enlisted for Gen. Benedict Arnold's division, now on duty in Hell's back kitoh en. • Why is money like the WW1)? Because it makes an ass pass. To be ahead of time = —earry your watch behind you. • Why should you choose a wife as you would a knife? _Because you should look to "Daughter," said an anxious parent to his little one, "didn't I tell you not to eat no more green apples?" "Yes, papa,, but this is yellow ono.' Papa collapsed. A mirao)o—a woman without hoops. When a lady falls, what does' she fall a gainst? Against her own will A due bill puts an additional pair of wings. to the back of time. A ,m4n,tbat will not do well in his pres ent place because ho longs to be higher, is fit to be neither where he is or yet above it. Why is an old lady like a window sash ?' Because she is full of pains (panes). I recently discarded her beaux be cause he inadvertly stated that he had slept I with a Clear Conscience the • night before. What will be the finalsi ,, nal for a gam bler to give up his tricks i ) The sound of the last trump Almost every young lady is public spir ited enough'to be willing to have her fath— or's house used as a court house. "Savo you ever broken a horse ?" inquie red a horse jockey. "No, not exaotly, re. plied Simmons, "but I have broken three os four wagons." AN ORIENTAL PoorEan.—You catet pre ventthe birds of sadness from flying over your bead, but you may prevent them from stopping to build their nests there. Many persons are in advance of their age. but as old maid generhily manages to be a bout ten years behind hers. Women should set good examples, for the men are always following after the women. rOamels, angry cats and cross wives always hive their backs up. A young lady in the interior thinks of go ing to'California to get married, for the roii son that she has been. told that in that °entry the men folks "rock the cradle." rb who takes an eel.by the tale and a wo man by the tongue, is sure to cowo off emp ty ' hYls it dangerous to flirt in a hay field? Because there . are more rakes than beaus there. `l3e Dot proud of riches but afraid of that lest they, be ry silver, bars to cross the way 'to heaves. , • ' Man and Wife, like verb and nominative should always agree. } i': i f~~,~`,* ENE 0 .
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers