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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.