... -. , • . „ -.'•• S-Z .-..,' ' • '','!.. ' 4. ..,' • • • ..',. i 4 's '!:.(.. •j t • ... 4 ii. . . 44 1 4 ; ::. ~ i: - : , • <i› 0 . , r) . .. U . (ell - ' L 57 :11 ' . . 1.. ~,,. .4. L.,,..„. _ .• ~.. . ~. .... V 1 ~., : :" ,„t:,,.,.. ,..- - „ , j.. \:: - ... ,.... : :- . {. .:... • 133 r 'Vlir. 33.1 air. VOLUME XIX NEW FALL N/IlidirEn tnnIDS GEORGE STOVER HAS RETURNED FROM PRILADBL- PHIA. WITH A SUPPLY OF DflY GOODS, NOTIONS, QUEESWIRE GROCERIES, IST' To which he invites the attention of of his patrons and the public generally. September 22, 1865: DR. J. A. ROYER, (SUCCESSOR TO F. POURTFI~siAN,) DEALER IN Drugs. Medicines, Chemicals, . Fine hair and Toot] Brushes, ' PERFUMERY. Fancy and Toilet Articles, Paints, Oils, Varnishes and Dye Stuffs; Toys and Yankee Notions; Glass, P.itty, Kerosene Oil and Lamps. MANVFA CZ V R.'130 Tobacco, Segars and Snuff's. Wines and Brandies for Monica] purposes ; Foreign and Domestic Fruit. CONFECTIONARIES, &c. Ail the Patent Medicines of the day, together with other articles in my line too numerous to men tion, all of which will be sold at the lowest prices for cash. I invite those wishing articles in my line to call as I feel assured I can make it to their in terest to purchase of me N. B. Physicians' Prescriptions carefully Com pounded. The undersigned avails himself of the opportu nity to tender his thanks to his former patrons o Waynesboro' and -vicinity for their kind and con tinued support in his business, and would regard it as an additionil favor to have them continue to pa. tronize his successor, Dr: John A. Royer, who is well worthy their confidence. F FOURTIIIdAN. October 13, 1865. FIRST ARRIVAL ! ItiflSS M. O. REESER announces to the Ladies jilof Waynesboro' ond vicinity that she has just returned from the Eastern Cities with a fine-assort ment of new MILLINERY GOODS, ' such as Bonnets, Bonnet Trimings of every degerip --tion T Ladies-and-Missesilats_&&.,_&c._Ladica_are invited to call and examine her new stock, sep 29 tr. • ACON. bought and soli by illowrannaltain-&C you want to smoke a fine Seem'. go to KURTZ'S for it. OPEIMOIL 7 —A good article for Bale by ID cep 81 /108TETT6R. RICIO & CO )lABArrta: U/IBEMB—rresh lot, just re Jir aired : lly , lioaTerria REID* Co. L i ILOKARDI"S Cattle Pownlei •t V '64 AND Kunrrs WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 29, 1865. N"CriEllrict.42l.l.s. WASTED 11111 F. Alone fat the jerk and silent night, With the heavy thought of a vanished year, When evil deeds come back to sight, And good deeds rise with a welcome cheer; Alone with the spectres of the past, -hat-comew-with-the_old_year's_d There glooms one-shadow-dark and vast, The shadow of Wasted Time. The chances of happiness cast away, • The opportunities never sought, The good resolves that every day Have died in the impotence of thought; The slow advance and the backward step In the - rugged path we have striven to climb; How they furrow the brow and pale the lip, When we talk with Wasted Time. • What are we-nowl—what-halbwe-bee. time as the miser's gold, Has we hoar Striving our weed• to win, Through the Summer's heat and the Winter's cold ; Sinking from nought_that_the world could do, Fearing nought but the touch of crime; • Laboring, struggling, all seasons through, And knowing no Wasted Time _Who-shall recall the vanished-years 4 Who shall hold back this ebbing tide That leaves us remorse, and shame, and tears, And washed away all things beside, Who shall give us the strength e'en now . To leave forever this holiday rhyme, To shake off this sloth from heart and brow, And battle with Wasted Time ? The yenta that pass come not again, The things that die no life renew; But e'en from the rust of his cankering chain A golden truth is glimmering through: That to him who learns from errors past, And turns away with strength sublime, And makes each year outdo the last, .ere-bit_n. : ' Time. There are lonely hearts to cherish While the days are'going by; There are weary souls who perish While the days are going by; If a smile we can renew, As our journey we pursue, 0! the good we all may do While the days nre going by. There's no time fOr idle scorning While the days are going by; Let our face be like the morning, While the days are going by. 0 ! the world is full of sighs, nil of sad and weeping eyes, Help your fallen brother rise While the days are going by. All the loving links that bind us NVliiie the days are going by, One by one we leave behind us While the days aro going by; But the seeds of good we sow, Both in shade and shine will grow, And will keep our hearts aglow While the days arc going by. iv - zi - mmr_or_..a.mg - le - i. [ORIGINAL.] BEI.TRIX; AIR, THE. PRIEST'S PLOT By Antowelli del Sartos Coebesto pulses os It was a wild and gloomy part of the Ap penines mountains where the monastery of St. Ildef oa-tt stood. On the summit of one of the highest peaks, it proudly reared its lofty stone turrets and battlements. In *the rear of the buildings huge rocks were piled one above the other, until they reached a horrid height, and seemed to pen etrate the molten gold and purple tinted sky. A. hundred feet down the mountain a mighty cataract rolled over the rocks with a hissing sound. Tall majestic trees, which grew out of the side of the mountain, occasionally cast their mtgnifieent foliage to the sirocco, and were wafted down, down, into the unknown depths of awful chasms. It was evening. The sun descended slow ly towatds the horizon, which was of a Haut crimson and golden hue. The sum mits of the distant mountains appeared to be OD fire. - • - There was one who gazed upon the mag nificent scene from one of the loftiest turrets of the monastery of St. Ildefousa. A bell rang from another tower. As its last notes echoed through the mottn- Mins, she descended to answer the call to e vening prayers. • It was sister Beatrix. * * * * * * * 4 -1-Beatrice-are—you,sine.cre., doiyort really passionately and devotedly love me?" . And the priest's voice grew strongly pas sionate. • eve you Vitalis, - and - dare - yatrdoubt - th = sincerity of my vows "I do not beautiful one," but hark there is the sound of footsteps I must away,take this—bandfhg her a stabil phial filled with a golden colored liquid—when t h e bells chime for morning prayers again, drink but ono drop of it, dissolved in - a tumbler of wa Familg Nevcre33Psti363r i Neutral i.n 3Pcsliticios anal itelLtgicxxi. ter, Sod it will cause" instant repose—a sleep like death—then you know what shag fol low—adieu loved . one, may success crown our efforts!" • , And with a noisless step he glided away, • like a spectral figure. As the faint sound of his footsteps, died away Beatrice turned to leave the corridor, as she did so she beheld standing in an open sow, the dusky form of the abbess, who was gazing upon. her. She felt her blood slowly congeal, her limbs refused to move, the hair seemed to raise from the scalp, and a voice 'seemed to hiss in her ears. "You have broken yoUr vow!" With a convulsive shudder, and a -cr-y-of-horror r -she—sudciettly—fell—upon—the stone floor insensible. * * "Midnight!" A bell from one atthe towers of the mon astery was tolling, itit clear, sharp notes re sounded along the mountains, with a mourn ful sound, it seemed to proclaim, death! and who was its vietim? Within the chapel of the cloister, in front of the sacred altar, in a magnificently draped Boffin, lay the cold, rigid, and marble-like form of the .beautiful Italian Nan Beatrix. itenao-- if a waxen tint; its e-x;-- er - corditenance was•o! pression was strange. — ltTwas noLlike death. - It was not Me life. Almost enchantment -I...._Bitt_only repose. No one was in the chapel. The dead one was alone; the silvery moonbeams shown through the oriental windows, and were cast upon her lovely_face—a-face—ofwoble-beau ty, exquisite, as the countenance of a Gre cian statue, But look! a muffled - figure - bends-1 over the lifeless Nun—it is gone—it must have been a spirit, to depart so quickly: Harkl the rich toned organ sounds, its notes are low and pensive, now they stW3ll; - how .beautiful=and float up to the gilded arches and ramble to the distant chambers. The chapel is rapidly being filled, dark forms move silently along_the marble aisles; they tread as if fearful of breaking the.slum ber of the dead one. It is the Nuns.— The mash" ceases. - The priest's appear ro bed for the midnight mass. They dedicate the spirit 'of the departed Nun to Christ, it is sprinkled with the'holy oil. Now they say, the Latin prayer for the - pos. : .• : As the prayers of the devoted . ones as- _responses-wor -sung-- •y -the choiristers, in pathetic strains, wild and beautiful. Again the organs thrilling tones thundered through the cloister, and pene trated the silent and dismal vaults, where mouldered the dust of those, who had from time to time been placed within the solitary vaults, and crumbling sepulchers, there to lie until the final day. Again the clear and melodious voices of the choir sounded above the deep toned or gan, and in wild harmony soared aloft, and warbled through the lofty and sacred old ed • ifice. It is done; the mass was said, four of the attendants of the priests lifted the coffin from off the chancel steps, while others bore lighted torches as the procession of Nuns— dark and ghastly—moved out of the chapel; and entered the long dark corridors where, in grand and stately old tombs,—bearing name, station, and period of deceased-rre posed the ashes of ancient Abbesses. As the priests and their attendants, and the Nuns•moved along the marble aisles, the lu rid rays flout the torches, lit up the ghastly place The effiges upon the sepulchres seemed to wave; phantom forms seemed to glide from tomb to tomb, and glare from their spectral eyes, upon the passing priests, then bound away among the obscure vaults, shouting— Another victim comes ! ' • Another tomb to fill ! Ha! ha 1 ha I and they laughed until the vast edifice seemed to be filled with the hor• rid yelling. The priests halt before a large vault, they .force back a rusty iron bolt, an iron door swings slowly open, revealing the interior of the tomb—filled with decayed coffins and fleshless sheletons., The coffin is swung into the vault, the i ron door closes, with an awful sound, that reverberates fearfully through the halls of death. The _priests turn and slowly wend their way out of the gloomy place, fullowed by their attendants and the nuns. And again the phantom figures seemed to wildly chant:— They go I they go I they go I But shortly to return. **,* * * * * Swiftly, but silently, Vitalie the priest traversed the interior labrinths of the' clois ter. lie almost rushed impetuously on, so ea ger was he to reach the tomb of Beatrix. And now he is there, he stoops, listens, all is quiet, he opaps the iron door, peers in, but involuntarily recoils—how 'horrid is its awful silence—a fearful thought lushes through his brain, perhaps he is too late, oh! horror I With the frenzy of a maniac ho rushed within the tomb, tore off the Coffin lid and beheld, the lovely form of Beatrix. But it was white and frozen, as if carved in alabas ter, the face was beautiful, fascinatingly love ly, and bore no trace of agony. The priest gazed upon it for a moment; as he gazed he seemed to be enchanted to lre po -t=h - e — remai - rie - d — as — nrottera less — as statue. For many hours Vitalis remained bent o ver the inanimate firm cf the beautiful nun the faint glimmering light, which was shad from a small silver ramp, which Vitalis had brought to tho vault, had after burning ma ny hours, grew fainter and fainter, and fin ally went entirely out. Thelarge and grand old abbey clock, had many times chimed the hours, and sent its *** 1 * shrill an • t rr hug, notes t • roug e mas. sive edifice, but failed to arouse' the spir- It was morning, when as the sun's bril liant rays' penetrated the high old oak fram ed windows, and illumined the silent vault, that the priest, with glaring oyes raised his 'ghastly fade, and encountered th é sun's gleaming beams. •With a horrid, yell, he drew back, kissed ('for the last time) the brow of Beatria and rushed out of the se pulchre, He had become a maniac. : * * * * * * It was a tempestuous night, .the wind hOwled fearfully around the monastery, the lightning-gleamed—while—the—thunder—roa As terrible' thunder-bolts rolled through the mountain, sounding like the shouting of many demons, and ghastly flashes lit up the dismal forest, while ,with startling fury the very mountain seemed to quake, before the wrath of the offended Gods, Vitalis, the ma niac, stood within a small apartment, at he top of one of the monasitery towers. He was standing near a high window, be low, which, at the base of the town was a horrid--chasm. o lig h t in gilluminedlhe t i Ii ;lit . also ht up its dreary depth. Vitalis stood silent - and - motionless, - as—he-' gazed out upon the turbulent scene, and down, down upon the grey, and moss-cover-. ed rocks beneath the tower, and heard the roaring and'hissing waters, of the mighty cataract roll down the mountain aide. The' tern lest rased (111 _with increased fu- ryeach hour. Amid the storm the pale and terrified sisterhood prayed that it might Cease—but they prayed in vain, as-ti • craved vengeance, and they had it. A violent sound was heard—the cloister was illuminated, - and its inmates heard the fragments of the lightning stricken tower strike the rocks of the abyss, as they fell to its bottom. And Vitalis the Maniac priest was dashed to atoms by the falling tower. Thus the Gods had revenge. MAKE THE HOMESTEAD ATTRACTIVE; It need not cost much money to adorn the place one lives in. Begin by digging out the briers and thistles of the door-yard.— Plant a few trees; then add a few flo:ThTirti - 74 shrubs. Perha.s that will 'answer for one year. Next year, ma. e a gra.: 7.: sides. Your wife and daughter will sow some flower seeds, if you will only prepare a neat - border for them. And these labors, so rewarding, will lead on to others. The fen ces and buildings will be kept in repair.— Trees will be set out along the roadsides The house. will have window blinds, the rooms will be provided, and books and paperi will not be missing. All these things will be regulated according to one's ability. And as a general rule, whatever .our means, it is better to make improvements by degrees, from year to year, than to do them all up at once, "by the job."' Be assured this is the way to find the most happiness in home a dorning. And remember, the influence of such an improvement does not end with the individual family. They tell silently, but with great effect, upon society. Every neigh bor an d_evety_passe_n_by_fe_els_th_em told ma ny are led by such examples to go themselv es and do likewise. TIIE GREAT MTSTERY.—The body is to die. No one who passes the charmed boun dary comes back to tell. The imaginations visit the realms of shadows—sent from some window in the soul over life's restless waters, but brings its way wearily back without a live leaf in its beak, as a token of emerging life,beyond the closely bended horizon. The great sun carries and goes in the heaven, yet breathes no secret of the ethereal wilderness. The crescent moon cleaves her nightly pas sage across the upper deep; but tosses over board no signals. The sentinel stars chal lenge each other as they walk their nightly rounds but we catch no syllable of, their countersign which gives passage to the heav enly camp: Between this there• is a great gulf' fixed across whiCh neither feet nor eye can travel. The gentle friend whose eyes we closed in their last sleep long years ago, died with rapture in her wonder-stricken eyes, a smile of ineffable joy upon her lips, and bands folded over a triumphant heart, hut her lips were past speech and intimated nothing of the vision that enthralled her.— J. G.-Holland On one occasion Mr. Webster was on his way to attend to his duties at Washington.. He was compelled to proceed at night, by stage from Baltimore. He had no traveling companions, and the driver had a sort of felon look which produced no inconsiderable alarm with the Senator. "I endeavored to tranquilize myself," said Mr. Webster, "and had partially succeeded, when we reached the woods between Bladensburg and Wash. ington (a proper scene for murder or out rage,) and here, I confess, my courage again deserted me. Just then my driver, turned to me, and with a gruff voice asked my name. ,I gave it to him.' 'Where are you going r said he. The reply was, 'to Wash ington. lam a Senator.' Upon this, the driver seized me fervently by the hand, and exclaimed, 'how glad I am. I have been trembling in my seat for the last hour; for when I looked at you I took you to be a highmynaan!" 0 f wino both parties were-Zlitrer A bright freedman in Richmond was stri ving to make a balky 'horse go when' an ex (fflifatlerate-soldierpgandiwv-, byTsa - id:i Why don't you whip him?-1. can lick him into it." "Go way dar.—Y'use been try'n to lick somelin dese fo' yea's, and couldn't do it. Ife that clan keep his temper is better' .‘,. than he that can keep %carriage. 111 ILIA7/111 011,011 1 6:111 big rill ail ari ' The Philadelphia "Evening Bulletin," in furnishing before the close of the war. a sketch of the different Rebellions in the U nited States, says : - "The great rebellion which began in 1801, and which now seems to be in its last gasp, is the next outbreak in order. Strangely e• nottgh the nearest parallel to it among all former American Insurrections, is the John Brown raid. There was blood shed in the case of the latter,• every soul of the raiding party, except one who made his escape, eith er biting the dust in the field or ending his career on the :allows. But John Brown made war upon what he honestly andetifFif siastiely believed to be wrong, and not in support of a crime, John Brown was not educated at the expense of Virginia; he had never sworn specially to support its consti tution and its laws an - The never enjoyed hon.= ors and emoluments at the hands of the Commonwealth. which he made war upon.— Where John Brown was innocent, R E Lee is gaily Ate is guilty. He was educated at the cost of the United States eaioyeiL •47aa , • a a -its-beste-wal; be was hound by - his-oath-and-his-honor-to-stanci-by -the--gov ernment, and he failed in both. Where John Brown shed rills of human blood, R. E. Lee has shed rivers;— where John Brown was merciful and kind towards the prisoners who fell into his hands, 8,. E. Lee allowed Belle Isle, Libby prison, and Andersoriville to disgr ace humanity; and where John BroWn refuse-to-tell a lie to save hitt - life, Robert E. Lee has lent his name to statements than he must have known were false. In every- ma! •; iee is ar ahead of John Brown; in generous impulses, and manly truthfulness, and true heroism, John Brown with all great mistakes; stood a head and shoulders above Robert E. Lee.— Gen. Lee•was a Lieutenant Colonel in the United .States Army in 1859, and he took command of the storming party that captur ed what was left of Brown's force of twenty men. We have never beard that he made any effort to save the brave old enthusiast from the gallows. He must know that his own crime is . as much - greater than that of John Brown, as the slaveholders' rebellion isgyeitter__in_its,d imensions-than — the -- JATI Brown raid. he Brown sleeps in the grave whither he was sent by Virginia jus -• t E ea -.t be—parole of a - appreciate the generosity of Northern foe men? or does be feel about his throat, in his dreams, the encircling hemp which he must know his crimes entitled him toT Yet there is a party of defeated sympathizers with treason, and tinmawkish sentimentalists in our Northern communities, who talk about the magnanimity of Lee, of his soldierly hon or, his unstained sword, and all that sort of unqualified bosh, Lee's treason dwarfs that of Arnold;—befhas been a leader in the most stupenduous political crime on record; and what adds to the enormity of his offence, is that he knew perfectly well he was doing wrong when he enlisted in the cause of re bellion, for he hesitated long about taking the step when his native State was whirling rapidly into the vortex of insurrection.— Admiration of such a crime is only worthy he_aourre that Jefferso. t ,. • stern statesman, and cast obliquy and re proach upon the . President of the United States, in the darkest hour of the greatest peril of the republic." - • Baptizing a Sinner. Poor people have a hard time" in this world of ours. Even•in matters of religion there is• a vast difference between Lazarus and Dives, as the following anecdote, copied from an exchange, will illustrate: Old Billy 0— had attended a great revival, and in common with many others he was "converted and baptized. Not many weeks afterwards, ono of his friends met him reeling home from the court grounds with a considerable brick in his hat. "Hello, Un cle Billy," said the friend, "I thought you had joined the church?" "So I did," an swered Uncle Billy, making a desperate effort to stand still, "so I die Jeemes, and would a'bin a good Baptist; if they hadn't treated me so evarlastin' mean at the water, Didn't you hear about it, Jeemes?" "Never did." "Then I'll tell you 'bout it. Yoa see when we come to the baptizin' place, thar was old Jinks, the rich old Squire was to be dipped at the same time. W ell. the Minister took the Squire in first; but I didn't mind that much, as I thought 'twould be just as good when I cum; so he led hird in, and after dip pin' him under, raised him up mitey keen. ful, and wiped his face and led him not.— Then came my turn; and instead of liftia' me out, as be did the Squire, he gave me one slosh, and left me crawling around on the bottom like a mud turtle!" NOT LIKE OTHER FOLKS.—In the west ern part of the State there lives a queer stick by the name of Starkey, who works for the farmers round about, when he works at• all. Upoo one occasion be hired to an English man, who usually kept two or three hired men. Starkey made his appearance in due season for breakfast, and the Englishman, as usual, brought up from the cellar the morn ing's rations of 'whiskey in a mug—what he supposed' sufficient for "all hands." In Con sideration of Starkey being the "new hand" he handed him the mug first. Starkey, nothin_ loth drained it without stopping to take breath. Thu3lrl, amazed at the fellow's,. "ktkieity„" said, ironically: "Have some more - ~ Markey?" "Oh, no," said-Starkey,imo bi drama, like abitifi fo «414.4-- Alawyer, on being called to account for having acted unprofessionally in taking . less than the usual fees from his °Neat, pleaded that he had taken all 'the man had. fie teas thereupon honorably acquitted.- 02.00 Per 'ear • e - ry - Ba. - d The business of the Court in one of the frontier territories 'was drawing to a -close when one morning a tough sort of a custom- . er was atraigned on a charge of stealing.— After the clerk had rend the indictment to him, he put the question : "Guilty or not guilty ?" "Guilty, but drunk, your honor," answer ed the prisoner. "What's the plea ?" asked the Judge, half dozing on the bench. "He pleads guilty, but says he was drunk," replied the clerk. "What's the case ?" "May it please Your honor," said the pro :esating_atturaey_,Jithe man is_reg r ularly in _dieted_foi etealinga large sum of Money from the Columbus Hotel." "He is, bey ? and pleads—" "He pleads guilty, but drunk." •ut • run • is js a 11, • Young man. you are certain yo c were drunk ?" • ' "Yea, sir." "Where "At Sterret's " "Did you get none any where Else?" "Not - a drop, sir." "You got drunk on his liquor, and after wards_stole the money ?" • "Yes, sir." "Mr. Prosecutor;" said the judge,"do me the favor to enter in that man's ease a nolle prosequi. That liquor at Sterret's is enough to make a man do any thing dirty; got drunk on it myself the other day, and stole all Sterrit's spoons L Release the prisoner, Mr. Sheriff." Kseping the folks in Meeting When Mr. Moody—Handkerchief Moody —was once on a journey, in the western part of Massachusetts, he called on a brother in , the ministry, ono Saturday,thinking to spend the Sabbath with him, if agreeable. The man appeared very "glad to see him, and said: should be very glad to have you stop and preach for me to-morrow, but I feel a shamed to ask you." "Why, what is th M-o—o-dy, "Why, - our people have got into such a habit of going out before meeting is, closed, that it seems. to be an imposition on a stran- If that is all, I must and will stop . and preach for you," was Mr. Moody's reply. "When the sabbath day had comeand Mr. Moody had opened the meeting and' named the text, he looked round the assembly, and said, "My bearers, lam going to•speak to two kinds of folk to-day saints and sinners. Sin ners, lam going to give you your portion first, and I would have you give good at tention." When he had preached to them as long as he thought best, he pansed,.and said, "There, sinners, I have done with you now; you may take your hats and go out of the meeting tome as soon as you please."-- But all tarrJd and beard him through. —After the battle of the Wilderness, there unded-men-lying-near-each-oth er and a 'short distance from them the dead body of a man with his head blown off. One of the men, an. Irishman, was badly hurt, but bore it manfully; the other was slightly wounded and made a terrible noise. The I rishman becoming irritated at the noise of the other, called out, "ye noisy thole, hold your noise; there's a man with his head off and he's saying nothing at all." Richards was an inevitable chewer of to bacco. To break himself of the habit, he took up another, which was that ofi.;00og a pledge about once a month never chew another piece. pledge just as often as he made time I seen him ho told me he t.. off for good, but now, as I met hi k i;'- ;4 0 1 , * :4as taking another chew. "Why, Richard," says l', "You told me you had given up that habit, but I see you are at it again." "Yes," he replied, "I have gone to chew ing and left of lying !" Two sons of, Erin were standing by a hy draulic press superintended by a friend of mine, when one called out to the other: lin], I'd like to put ye under and squaze the din. II out o' ye.' Would you, indade, my boy?' was the answer. 'Squaze the divil out" o' you„an' there'd be nothing `O4l. 'Do you propose to put Ike into a store, Mrs. Paatiogton?' asked a friend. 'Yes" re plied the old lady—shut I am peativerous to know which. Some tell me the 'wholesale' trade is the beat, but I believe the "ringtaiP will be the most bencficious to him.' A negro about dying. was told by his min ister that he must forgive a certain darkoy against whom he seemed to entertain, very bitter feelings: • 'Yes,'sah,' he replied, 'lf dies, I forgive dat nigg; but if I gate well, dat egg must take care.' Prentice says of an editor "who smelt a rat," that if he did, and the rat emelt him, the poor rat had the worst of it. Ho . is matchless misery, elens old' maidenhood or bachelorhood A fellow who dosien't benefit the world & his life does it by his death. The idle should not be classed among the living; they are asorti of dead then not fit to be bitried. • We . look for a - woman to betomier; though apeoiding to Sedpturo, abo was . madli out of ix bone. NUMBER 28 sed,-"Gailt .tt-your-liquor?h -- matter-M said Mr.
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