lA . t. 331etiar. VOLUME XVIII Nao33irxc:l42k.m. A DIRGE. Lower the starry flag Amid a sorrotring Reap"Va lamentation For him the honored ruler ofthe nation; Lower the starry flag. Let the great bells be toll'd Slowly and mournfully in cry steeplo i Let them make known the sorrow of the people; Let the great bolls be toll'd Lower the starry flag, Ana let the solemn, sorrowing anthem, pealing,. Sound from the carven choir to fretted (Seilini; Lower the 'starry flag! Let the great belts_ be tolVd And let the mournful organ music, rolling, Tune with' the bells in every steeple tolling; Let the great bells be t01e,41! Lower the starry flag; The nation's honored chief in death is sleeping, And for our loss our eyes aio,wet with weeping; LOwer the starry flag ! Let the great bells be toll'd! • His honest, manly heart has ceased itsbetiemgi His lips no more shall speak the kindly greeting,' Let the 'great bolls he toll'd Lower the Marry flag; No more shall sound his voice in scorn of error; Filling the traitors heart with fear and terror; Lower the starry dag! Let the great bells be toll'd; He reverenced the gilt which God has given, Freedom to all, the priceless boon of Heaven; Let the great bells be toll'd; • Lower the starry flag; _ His dearest hopes were wedded with the notion, He valued more than all the land's salvation; Lower the starry flag! Let the great bells be toIl'd; His name shall live on History's brightest pages, His vuice shall sound through Time'spemotest ages; Let the great bells be toll'd! 1~: ~ r ~ ABRAHAM LINCOLN.; Mr. F. 13. Carpenter, the artist who paint -1!1 the picture of "The Singing of the Eman cipation Proclamation," contributes. to this •week's Independent, his "Personal Impres sions of Mr. Lincoln," embodying some in teresting reminiscences, which we copy be low: MR. LiNCOLN E 's SADNESS It has been the business of my life, as you know, to study the human face, and I say now as I have repeatedly said to friends, Mr. Lin. CO n • • I • • During some of the dark days of last Spring and Summer, I saw him at times when his careworn, troubled appearance was enough to bring tears of sympathy into the eyes of his most violent .enemies. .1 recall particu larly one day, when, having occasion to pass through the main hall of the domestic apart ments, I found him, all alone, pacing up and down a narrow passage, his hands behind him, his head beat.forward upon his breast, heavy black rings under his eyes showing, sleepless nights—altogether such a picture of the effects of weighty cares and responsi. bilitios as I never had seen And yet he always had a kind word, and almost always a genial smile, and it was his way frequently to relieve himself at such 'times by some haimiess pleasantry. I recol lect an incident told me by one of the most radical members of the last Congress• , It was during the darkest-days of 1862. 110 called upon the President early one morning, just after news of a .disaster. It was a time of gr3at anxiety, if not despondency. Mr. Lin coln cnumeaced telling some trifling incident which the Congressman was in no mood to hear. He rose to his feet and said: "Mr. President, I did not come here this morning to hear stories; it is too serious a time."— Ins'antly the smile disappeared from Mr. Lincoln's face, who exclaimed, sit down! 1 respect you as an earnest, sincere man. You can ILA be more anxious than I am constantly, and I say to you now, that were it not for this oceasioaal vent, I should die !" HIS SYMPATHY A large number of those whom he saw 13V cry day came with appeals to his feelings in reference to relatives and friends in confine ment and under sentence of death. It' was a constant marvel to me that, with all his other. cares and duties, be could give so much time.and be as patient with this mul titude. I have known . him ,to sit for hours patiently listening to details of domestic, troub les from poor people, much of it, of course, irrelevant; carefully sifting the facts and man ifesting as much anxiety to do exactlyright es in matters of tile gravest interest. "Poor ly clad poeplo were more likely to get a good hearing than those who came in silks and 'velvets. "No one was ever turned• awa'y irctin his door because of poverty. Hite erred, it WM sure to be on the side of mercy. It was most painful tasks to confirm a itenten'ee of 'Beath. I recollect the case of a somewhat tiOted'ltebel - prisener; who had been condemned to death, I believe as wispy. A _strppg .applieatian had been made to' have .his seatenceThorironted. While this was pending, he atteMpted to eseapelrom con finemept, and , %.,as- shot' by "the sentinel . on guard. Althottgb riehly'deserVed death, Mr. Lincoln told, Judge niY presence that "it a great relief to him that the I AIL .Family I'VervonetViapero Mrektitrett 123. Pc03.1.-61.clis WAYNESBORO, FRANKLIN COUNTt.PENNSILVANIA„FRIDAY MORNING, MAY . '121866. man took, his fate Own hands " If the slightest occasion existed for show ing clemency, he was sure to improver Judge Bates, in the same . conversation refer red to aboire, said that he had often told the President that "be was hardly fit to be in trusted with the pardoning power.": said the Judge, "he can scarcely turn away front the application (if it touches his feel ings) of a man, and the tears of a woman are sure to overcome him."' • A PARDON. A touching instance of Iris kindness' of heart occurred quite recently, and was told me incidentally by one of the servants. A poor woman from Philadelphia had been wait ing, with a baby in her arms, for three days to see the President. Her• husband bad fur nished a su'ostitute for„the army, but some time afterwards was one day made intoxica ted by some companiorrs, and in •this state induced to enlist. Soon after he reached the army he deserted, thinking that, as he had provided a substitute, the Government was not entitled to his services. ' Returning home, rtwas,, of course, arrested-, tried, convicted and sentenced to be shot. The sentence was to be executed on Saturday. .- On Monday hie wife left her home with her baby, to endeavor to see - the President, said old Daniel: "She had• been waiting here three days, and there was no chance foi her to•got; in. Late in the °Stet noon of the th:rd day, the President was going through the back passage to his private . rooms to get a cup of tea or take some rest." (This pas sage-way has lately been •construeted, and shuts the person passing entirely out of view of the occupants of the ante-room) "On his way through he heard a little baby cry. lie instantly went back to his office and rang the bell. "Daniel," said he,."is there a wo man with a baby in the ante-room?" 1 said there was, and if he . would allow me to say it, I thought it was a case he ought to see; for it was a matter of life and death. Said he, "send her to me at once." She went in, told her story, and the President pardoned her husband. As the woman came out from hiS presence, he eyes were lifted and her lips moving in prayer, the tears - streaming dorm her cheeks. Said Daniel: "I went up to her and pulling her shawl, said, 'Madame, it was the baby that did it!'" A TOIJCFITNCI INCIDENT Another touching incident ' occurred, I be lieve, the same week. A woman in a faded shaw and hood, somewhat advanced in life, at length was admitted in her turn, to the President. Her husband and three sons, all she had .in the world, had enlisted. Her husband had been killed, and she had come to ask the President to release to her the-old est son_ Being satisfied 'of the truthfulness of her story, he said, "Certainly, if her prop was taken away she was justly entitled to one of her boys. He immediately wrote an order for the discharge of the young man.— The poor woman thanked him very grateful ly and went away. On reaching the army she found that this son had been in a recent engagement, was wounded and taken to a hospital. She found the hospital, but the boy was dead, or died while she was there. The surovon in charge made a memorandum of the faots upon the back of the President's order, and, al most broken-hearted, the poor 'woman found her way again into his pres ence. Ile was Much affected by her appearance and story, and said, "I know what you wish me to do•now, and I shall do it without your asking, I shall release to you your second son." Upon this he took up his pen and commenced writing the order. While he was writing, the poor woman stood by•his side, the tears running down her face, and passed her hand softly over his head, stro -king his rough hair, as I have seen a found mother do to a son. By the time he had fin ished. writing, his_ owe heart-sand eyes were full. Ho handed her the paper. "Now," said he, "you' have one, and I one, of the oth er two left. That is no snore than right."— She took the paper, and reverently placing her hand again upon his head, the tears still upon her cheeks, said, "The Lord bless you, Mr. President. May you live 'a thousand years, and may you always be at the head of this great Nation!" Recollections of President Lincoln A correspondent of the Boston Journal gives an 'acz.ount of a conversation with the late President, from which it appears that he had a presentiment that he would not survive the close of the war. The writer says: He may not have looked for it from the hand of an assassin, bat he felt sure that his life would end with the war long ago. lie told me "that he was certain he should not outlast the rebellion " It was in last July. As you will remember, there was dissension then among the Rt3publican leaders. Many of his best friends had deserted him, .and were talking of an opposition convention to nominate_another candidate; 'and • universal gloom was among the people, The North was tired of the war, and supposed an hon orable peace attainable, Mr. Lincoln knew it was not—that any peace at thal time would he'only disunion. Speaking of it, he said— "l have faith in the people; they will not consent to disunion. The danger is, they are misled. Let them know the truth, and the country is, safe." He looked haggard "and careworn, and father on in the interview I remarked on his appearance,... saying: "You are wearing yourself out with hard work."— "I can't work less," he answered; "but it isn't that work never troubles me. Things look badly, and 'I can't avoid anxiety. Per son'ally, I care nothing about a re-election; but if our divisions defeat us, T. fear tor the coun try." When suggested that right must e• ventually triumph—that I had never des paired of the result; he said:—"Neither have I but I may .not live to see it. I feel a pre- sentiment. that I shall not outlast the re bellion. ",When • it is over my work Will •be done." ' An Appeal for Justice• At a meeting held in Philadelphia on, last Friday' night, Mr; Albert N. Gilbert deliver ed the following pertinent-address 'We owe a . debt to the leaders of . the re bellion, What? Thoroughly !read in his tory, understanding the principles., of politi cal economy, familiarly with the springs of national action, they inaugurated' this rebel lion. They were not misled. They knew all the consequences of the venture - they, made. They knew that if the North were loyal and brave; they must wade through seas of blood, yet they cast the die and assumed the'risk. They had no great moral end in view, no lofty political principle to vindicate, no wor thy object to achieve. But two things were to be accomplished, personal sggrandizement, and, as they hoped,,the perpetuity of slairery. Yet they sounded the tocsin whose first peal made the whole world tremble. ,By fraud and force combined, by falsehood most foul, and intimidation of every degree, they mislea the masses ; and organized their forces.— They towered in the very sublimity of all conceivable crimes, falsehoods, robbery, ail sassination, starvation, savage cruelty to pris oners, sacrifice of honor and pledged word, all these were but departments of the one great crime that comprehended all, the most stupendous treason the world has ever before seen: A million of our men lie cold in death, the result - of their experiment. Thousands of our homesteads have been destroyed, the air is black with the sombre drapery of those isbo mourn, the glare of burning cities has lit the heavens, .and the earth has become crimson with blood, that these leaders might try their experiment. The world has stood appalled at their fiendish epaelty. The men, the ob ject, the means were all unholy; yes, satanic; and we are asked to -take these Men to our hearts; not only to forgive, but to conciliate, to love, to honor. It is shameful. It is atrocious. I care not though a thousand Ward Beechers had said it, it is 'atrocious. It insults the memo ry of our, dead heroes, and the faces of our living ones. It defies God and ridicules our national existence. It proclaims the satanic principle, the more heinous the erime the crime, the less guilt. If a man in your midst commits a murder you hang him. Those who have committed a burglary you imprison, if they commit tens of thousands of both, are we to forgive and embrace them. A while ago you hung Captain Gordon for en gaging in the slave trade, and the men whose' legitimate ultimate would have been its re establishment, we are to embrace. .You hung Captain Beall afew_weeks since f cd afi him n ldy, and •d, MA after him again Kennedy, and the dev ils in human form who employed them you as the nation to forgive and love. With the sunken eWe - kdlicklustre eyes of our poor starved soldiers now in our midst, with the sight of the skin of living men dried o ver the extremities of bones like dried meat, to Aster our eyes, With funeral-columns teeming with deaths from starvations, we are asked to clasp the band of their savage des troyers in a fraternal pressure. I Never I Never I Never I I call not for ven tice. No more severe than that which you administer in your courts every day, justice which proportions punishment to crime. I demand that the majesty of the Government shall be vindicated; that the sneer of the Eu ropeans at our rope of sand shall not be jus tified; that these men, oblivious of every mor al restraint,aball not be turned loose in the Spud' to poi4on its springs of life; to be re turned again to our National councils to pol lute the air of our capital. I demand that a premium shall not be put upon treason for all time to come. demand that the exci table people of the South shall not be contin ually tempted by the fatal facility of crime and improbability . of punishment, to renewed attempts upOn the National existence. We owe to the leaders of the rebellion inflexible justice. ' THE HEAVENLY CoNCERT,—Thero is in preparation a grand concert of music, which will indenfinitely Surpass thotie of earth. None but performers will 'be admitted there and none shall unite in that concert who have not learned the song of Moses and the Lamb Instead of an orchestra of sixty performers unnumbered millions with golden. harps will join the grand chorus and the thundering totes of the cherubim and seraphim Will break forth in a strain that shall awaken the mai ; yerse. . - M irana - the - sweet Hongstres - of Israel ' will rise to sweeter higher notes than when she sang that song of deliverance on the banks of the Red Sea. David will sweep his golden" lyre in the strains to mortal ears unknown, Harriet Newell will there eing the song so suddenly broken off on'that lone Isle of the ocean; and thousands of redeemed sinners will there sing loudly and joyously. Thou art invited to this "concert.' A RVIARKABLE OBSERVATION.i—AbOta four years ago Abraham• Lincoln raised .with his own land the national flag over lode'. pendence Hall, Philadelphia. On that occa sion he said: ' I have often inquired. of , myself what great principle or idea it was that held this Confederacy &Acing together. It 'was some• thing in the. Declaration of independence, giving liberty, not 0n1y.%) the people of this country, but hope to the world for all future time. It was th a t which gave promise that in due time the weights should be lifted .from the shoulders of all men, and that all should have an equal chance. * * - Now, my friends can this country be saved upon this basis? It it can,• I. will consider myself one of the•happiest.men in the world if I can help to save it. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up that'prin ciplo—/ wait' aboutio say I. would roam). he assassinated upon this' spot than surrender it." • Poor conclusion's fur us survivors—"that the good die first." • • [F'On vim 'Rzcorib. DIRGE.: - BY U. 13. N, Thy work is done•, Rest. from .thy labois now— Angeis shall wreath thy brow;. Deep in thy grave of honor sleep ; A startled world has deigned to weep, For Fr'eedom's son. The martyr dies, Oh God r 'Cis hard to say '"Thy Will be done," this awfal day, Yet we will-proitte the Name that gave The any that moulders in the grave, With tears and sighs. • In silent aum, We stand beside the laurell'd bier— The nation's heart seem breaking here, Yet through this Woe one single ray Breaks forth the harbinger of day, Tis Heaven's law. in thee wo trust, Oh Father! wilt thou still be near, To light oar path thouga dark and drearl Look down in pity from Thy throne, And claim this people as thine own,, Since man is dust. Oh, hear our cry, Thou, who caret mark, the sparrow's fall Oh, wilt thou hear a nation call? Let these dark clmids be swept away, And flitting Seraphs chant the lay, "Tis sweet to die." --....i...- _ AMERICA. My country, 'tie of thee, Sweet land ofliberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my father died, Land of the pilgrims' priJe, From every mountain side, Let freedom ring. My native country, thee, Land of the nettle, free— Thy name I love; • I love thy rocks and. rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills Like that above. Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees, Sweet_lreetlom's-song;7 - Let mortal tongues awake, •Let all that breathe partake, Let rocks their silence brerdc, The sound 'prolong. Our father's God, to thee, Author of liberty, To thee I sine; Long may'our land be bright With freedom's holy light; Protect ui; by the night, Great God our King. DRIFTING It was only the other day that a man fell asleep in his boat on the Niagra river. Du ring his slumber the boat broke loose from her moorings, and he awoke to find himself shooting down the rapids directly toward the cataract. In vain he shrieked for help, in vain he tried to row against the current, he drifted on and on, till his craft upset,.when he was borne rapidly to the abyss, and leap ing up with a wild cry, went over and disap peared, In the great battle of Gibralter, when the united fleets of France and Spain attacked the impregnable fortress, one of the gigan tic floating batteries broke from her anchor age, and began to drift directly into the hot test of the British fire, The thousand Men who formed the crew of, the unwieldly mass, vainly strove to arrest its progress or divert it from its path. Every minute it drifted nearer to the English guns, every minute some new part took fire from the red shot, every minute scores of hapless defenders were swept like chaff 'from • its decks. The most super -human efforts failed to prevent its drifting with its human freight to inevit-, ble death. A ship was wrKked at sea. The passen gers and - crew-took - refuge on - a raft - , - the boats having been stove in the attempt to launch them. For days and weeks those unfortu nates drifted, without oar or sail, on the hot, brazen tropical ocean. At last their provi sions failed, and their water; still they drift. ed about vainly looking for sight . of land.— The time had now come when that fearful al. ternative became inevitable—death froni star. vation, or feeding on human flesh and they were just beginning-to east lots for a victim when a vessel was seen fit away on the hor izon. They abandoned their terrible design; the stranger would approach. The ship came toward them; she drew nearer; they. tried to attract her attention by- shouts and by rais ing their clothing . but the indolent look-out saw them not. e• They shouted louder; still 'they were not seen. At - last the vessel tack ed. With frantic terror they arose• in one body, shouting, waving their garments. It was vainthe unconscious shiVstood stead ily away. „Night•dressr on, and.as the dark ness fell the raft drifted in the other Lion, till the last trace of the vgasql was lost forever. • . • ' So it is with life. The temperate' man, who thinks he at, least will never die a drank ard,what ever his neighbormay do,only wakes to find himself drifting down the cataract, and' alt hope' one. Tlielensualist who lives merely for his oi:t.-gratification, drifts into an emasculated old age; to be tortured with passion 'ho cannot giAtity, and perish by met , . cilcss agonizing diseases. The undisciplin ed; who never learn to control thetuselveS, who are spendthrifts, or .passinate; or indo lent or visionary, soon make shipwreck of themselves,and drift about this sea of life; thn prey o'every' wind and throat, shrieking foi help; till 'at , last 'limy drift' al way into darkness and,death,- • . . Take carp that you ate nut drifting. See that YOu,have'fastliolil. of the helm. Th'e breakers of life forevei emit; iiiidef ice; and adverse:gales Continually blow on the..shOrel Are you watching how she-heads? Do you keep a firm grip on the wheel? If yon give way but for a moment, you may, drift help— lessly into the 'boiling vortex. Young than, take'carel It rests with yourselfialdue, un der God, whetheryou reach port triumphant) ly or drift to ruin. • 'Equal to the Eiai€.4gen6iir Not Many years ago, two trenchimen—diii Wealthy and in possession of ready 'OSA, and the other poor and penniless-;—cideupied by chance the same room in, a suburban hotel. In the morning the, 'Beady' - ,one arose first, and holding a pistol to hisnwn forehead, and backing against the door, exelaimed 'to hits horrified companion: `lt is my last desperate resort; I am penni less and tired of life; give me 500 francs, or I will instantly blow mit my brains, and yon will be arrested as a murderer !' The other lodger found himielf the hero of an unpleasant dominion, but the cogency of his companion's argument ,struck him 'cold.' He .quietly crept to his"pantaloons, handed over the amount, and the other ram osed, after locking the door on the outside. Hearing of this, another Frenchman, of very savage aspect, one bight iried to room with a tall, raw-boned gentleman from Ar kansas, who had been rather free with his money during' the, .day, and, evidently had plenty more behind. Nest morning, 'Pike' awakening, discovered his room-mate stand ing over him with a pistol leveled at his mftt head, and evidently quaking with agi tation! ''What the duce are you istandin Char for in the cold?' said Pike, propping himself on his elbow, and cooly surveying the Gaul. am desperate V- was the reply. 'You give me one-hundred -dollars or I will -blow out my brain l' 'Well then, blow and be darn'd replied Pike, turning over. 'Bote you vill be arrested for ze murdaireyg persisted the Gaul, earnestly. 'Eh, what's that ?' said Pike ; 'oh, I see! and suddenly drawing a revolver and a five pound bowie from under-his-pillowi-he - sat - , upright. 'A man may as well be Ming for a sheep as a lamb,' he cooly remarked; and at tbo word, he started for the Gaul; but thelatter was too nimble; the 'hoss-pistol,' innocent of lead, exploded in the air, and with one frantic leap our little Frenchman was stand ing in his night-robe at. the foot of the stair case—a proof that what may suit one atti , ' tude will not answar for another.. Too Much Land• The American, farme'r works too much limited profits, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. There was once an old Roman who had a certain quantity of land under cul tivation, and three sons. When one of his sons became of age, he gave him one-fourth of his farm, and still made as much - from what remained as before. When his second and third sons arrived at• the. same period, he gave each a fourth, retaining a fourth him self, and yet he obtained as much ftom the part retained as when he cultivated the whole. Phoeion, when found in a deep stu dy, was asked what he was thinking about. "I am thinking," said he, "how I shall shor ten what I have to say to the Athenians."— As their is generally more substance in a short than in a long oration, so a little land, well tended and well manured, will produce much more, and with less labor, than a large tract indifferently tended and partially ma nured. One of the many successful small farmers, within a few hours' railway ride of N. York city, is a German, who arrived in this coun try eight years ago, with'a wife, one child, and five dollars. He settled in New Jersey on eight acres, which he hirod, and it was soon discovered that "he had manure on the brain." Not a drop of liquid, nor a parti cle of Sad, whichcould by ady process be made to feed land was overlooked b him.-- He scoured the highway and secured the droppings from cattle and horses, and- con verted everything within his reach into a fertilizer. lie seemed to consider the earth as a substance merely to hold up the tree or' plant that grew therein, which was his favorite application, This man aston ished every one. His asparagus, celery, and all other,products of that character, to gether with his enormous crops of strawber ries, blackberries, raspberries, &c., were the wonder o f the Philadelphia markets 'and visitors, the aggregate yearly receipts o f his eight acres occasioned bis neighbors gen- eral astonishment; be works it jet, but in the busy season, he keeps six men. It is hard ly necessary to say he is to-day rich, out of eight years' labor upon eight acres, his prof. its having, some years, reached five thousand dollars. ' This,is a mystery to the ordinary farmers, but when'it is known that the Lon den market' gardeners biien pay one thousand dollars per year,rent for land,- our improvi.. dent cultivators ' will begin to believe that they do not quite understand their business. As mnehAitrate of silver * as can be held between the thumb and anger, if thrown in to a vase of water, will, it is asia, preserve flowers for a fortnight'. This' may be an in= ternslng fact for the , lady readers of THE ItECtiEux ; , , If you would find 'a groat 'mink fatiltaibe on the -look out. If you would find them in still granter abundance, be ou the Ina in. siajzio rimy Year uervv:so P,xevens' a Dvoico. When thee'seniet Jonathan Trtribull was gehtkithatt belled at his boiise ; reifiealitig; to'sesr Uls .arebllen cy in private. Accordingly he was shown into his liancturn sanctorunn, and: the Gover nor came. forward to Meet Squire W., saying "Good•morning, sir; I an glad , to see you. Squire W. returned the salutation, adding as he did so, have called on a yeiy. =pleat:. ant errand, sir-and want. your advice. My wife and I do not live happily together, and am now thinking - of getting a divoree.-- What do you advise, sir?' • The Governor sat a few 'minutes in . deep thought; then turning to, Squire W. said, "How did you treat Mrs W. when you were courting her?..and , howdid'you feel' towards het at the time of her marriage ?" Squire W; replied, "I treated her as kindly as I could, ter I loved her dearly at that time." "Well, sirr said the Governor, "go you home and court her now just as you did then, and love her as when you married her. Do this ie, the fear of,cled for one year; and tell me the result." The Governor then said, "Let us pray." They, bowed in prayer and separated, When a year had passed away, Squire W. Called -again to see the "Governor, and•graipitig his hand, said: "I called, sir, to thank you for the advice you gave me, and. to tell you that my wife and I are as happy as when u were married. I cannot be grate ful enough for year good counsel" "I. am glad to hear it Mr. W., and I hope that you will continue to court your wife as long as yiiulive," The result was that - Squire W. and his Wife lived happily together to that end of their married life. Let those who are thinking of.separation in these days go and do likewise. Asking Father A gentleman of fine social qualities, always ready to make liberal provision for the grati fication of his children, a man of science and a moralist of the stri4.ltest school, was skepti cal in regard to prayer, thinking is superflu ous to ask God for what nature had already furnished ready at hand. Ills oldest son be came a disciple of Christ. The father, while recognizing a happy ebarme in the spirit and deportment of the youth', still 'harped upon his old objection to prayer as unphilasophi • - al and 'unnecessary. remember," said the son, "that I once made free . use of your pictures, speCimens and iintrumonts, for the entertainment of my friends: When yoxt_came_home_you-said- to 'All that I have belongs to my children, and I have provided it on, purpose for them;. still, I think,* would be respectful always to ask your :father before taking anything'— And ,so," added the son, "althoug:i God has provided everything for me, I think it is re spectful to ask Him and to thank Him for what I use." The skeptic was silent; but he- has sine& admitted that he has never been able' to in vent an answer to this simple, personal, Wl sible arginuent for prayer.— Cougregationa/- A professional gentleman of our =plain ance-htts-htinging-in-his-room a fine-, tar:', colored engraving of the - litd of a quadru ped, vulgarly known as jackass. Not long since, a friend of his dropped in, and stop ping before the picture, gazing intently upon it for a few moments, and then sung out' ab ruptly, and.as he imagined, very wittily:— "Hallo, dootor, is that your potratt ?" "Oh, no," replied the doctor, "that's simply it look ing glass." The '"anzious inquirer" sud denly discovered that he' had some business down street and departed. "Go to grass 1" said a mother to her daugh ter: "Well, then, I suppose I'll have to marry," ejaculated the fair damsel., "Why so?" exclaimed the astonished mother. "ge eause all men are grass." ' The old lady sur vived. Since Secretary Seward's accident disabled him, Senator Sumner has been assisting in conducting the Department, of State, and has prepared much of , the important diplomatic correspondence. A retired actor, with . a fondness for ponl ,ry, was asked why he named a favorite• hen iblaeduff.' He replied that it, was because he wanted her to 'lay on.' A._miserable_old_bachelor,_stho_forgetsthat tie present is not leap year,.says. "If you meet a young lady "who is not very shy, you had better be a little shy yourselt.' Advice to Captains io the army-4lnform ,ng your companies oa the banks of s deep and rapid river s be carefull how you order men to "fall in." Very plain girl has one consolation. If she is not a pretty young lady, she will, if she lives,• be a pretty old one. Flunkey says the ladies are most- pleased with the infantry of the - army, especially those.that man the breast-works: A man with a scolding, wife, when inquir ed of in relation to his occupation, said he kept a hot-house. Wily is a tight shoe like a. fine sammor ? Because it makes the,coragrow. With this year, the,British Parliament has been in existentie six hundred years. What is' the hest tar for making the wheels of life run smoothly? . The al-tar. Why is a petroleum dealer like .an epicure? Because he lives on the.fat of the hind: A purse witlits,lnoney, is„-like the comb, without the honey... TheAssr,,YOrlr, ladies are dyeing at & fear ful rate. 4 lied hair is the object. NUMBER 4$
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers