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VME XIX
3PCXIi3TICIIt.X.a.
TUB MEN WllO Mt Al' BALTIMORS
April 19, 1861.
BY JOAN W FORNEY
On country's call awoke the land
From mountain height to ocean strand,
The Old Keystone, the Bay State, too,
In all her direst dangers true,
Resolved to answer to her cry,
For her to bleed, for her to die;
And so they marched, their flag before,
For Washington, through—Baltim-dre.
Our men from Berke and Schuylkill came
Lehigh and Mifflin in their train;
First in the field tht y sought their way,
Hearts beating high and spirita gay;
Heard the wild yells of fiendish spite,
I f-armed-mobs-on-left-anolilgbAl
t_on they marched, their flag before,
For Washington, through Baltimore.
Next came the-Massachusetts men,
Gathered from city, glade and glen;
No hate for South, but love for all,
They answered to their country's call,
The path to them seemed broad and bright ;
They sought no foeman and no fight;
As on they marched their flag before,
New England's braves through Baltimore.
But when they'showed their martial pride.
And closed their glittering columns wide,
They found their welcome in the fire
Of maddened foes and demons dire,
Who, like the fi..nds from hell sent forth,
Attacked these heroes of the :forth,
These heroes bold, with travel sore,
While on their way through Baltimore.
From every striding den and street,
Thvy_rushed the gallant band to meet—
Forgot the catlike they came to save—
Forgot the dearest ties of blood
That bound them in one brotherhood—
Forgot the flag that floated o'er
Their countrymen in Baltimore.
And the great song their son had penned,
To rally freemen to defend
The banner of the stripes lnd stars,
That Indus victorious at I our wars,
Was laughed to scorn, as madly then
They greeted all the gallant men
Who came from Massachusetts shores
To Washington through Baltimore.
And when, with wildest grief, at last,
They saw their comrades falling fast,
Full on the hell hounds in their track
They wheeled, and drove the cowards back.
Then, with their hearts o'erwhelmed 'with woo,
Measured their progress, stern and slow; •
Their wounded on their shoulders bore
To Washington, through Baltimore,
Yet. while New England mourns her dead,
The blood by Treason foully shed,
Like that which flowed at Lexington, 1
Whrn Freedom's earliest fight begun,
Will make the day, the month, the year,
To every patriot's memory dear.
tSons of great fathers gone before,
They fell for right at Baltimore!
As over every honored grave,
Where sleeps the "unreturning brave."
A mother sobs a young wife moans,
A father fur his loved one groins,
Oh ! let the people ne're forget
Our deep enduring, lasting debt
To those who left their native shore
And died fur us in Baltimore.
—Washington Chronicle, May'l2, 1861
111CISSIC,311MaL•41.Z1 - 32".
FRIGHTENING A LOVER,
Or the Strong-Minded Woman.
"You have heard me speak of Stephen
Jenkins, Matilda."
"Yes, Uncle."
"Well--another cup of tea if you please
--he is coming here tomorrow, oo a week's
visit."
. "You don't mean ao, Uncle ?" exclaimed
Matilda.
'.And why don't I, Miss Matilda ? There
is nothing to summon such a look of con
sternation to your face "
"Because if be shouldn't happen to be a
greeable—" •
"Of course he is agreeable. ,At all events,
it is desirable for you to find him so, '8 iuce
he is your prospective husband l".
• "My prospective husband ! What can you
mean, Uncle ?" inquired Matilda, opeuing
her eyes in amazement.
"I thought you understood it. Your es
tates juin, and it is eminently proper, there
fore, that you should unite them by: mar
riage."
'A very good reason, certainly," said Ma
tilda, with a curl of the lip. "It makes lit
tle difference, I suppose, whether our dispo
sitions are compatible or not."
"0, they will easily adjust themselves af
ter marriage, and the two will make Such a
handsome estate."
"SupposeT shouldn't fancy him well e.
pough to acuept his proposals,‘aacie ?" ask
ed Matilda, demurely.
" -- 7 - 717 - .77E37 iiiro 71 — mg as
taloa!, I should dibiaherit you. .You are
%ware, I. suppose,
that all -your property
c met, from me, .au d thst I eau, at auy time,
recall _
'That would be a pity, certainly," said
Matilda, insalively strain, `•for I should have
to take in washing, or something of that
kind, to support myself, and I have such an
appetite I"
"Mr. Parker smiled in spite of himself,
aad evidently looked upon his niece as one
who would readily yield to bis expressed
will.
"One question more, uncle. Suppose be
should not fancy your humble niece, and con
clude to pay his addresses elsewhere r
"I would never speak to. the puppy a-
gain."
"And you wouldn't "disinherit me then,
uncle '1"
"Of course not, you gypsey. It wouldn't
be your fault."
"lt would be mortifying to have him re
ject me," said Matilda, demurely. "Is there
anything be particularly dislikes in a woman,
do you know r'
once heard him say ho couldn't bear a_
literary woman," said her uncle, after some
reflection. "All sorts of strong-minded we
men are his aversion. But then you know,
Mattie you are not strong minded."
"Thank you uncle, very much. That is
as-much-fieLtosay lam weak -mitt' A‘A "
"No such thing,
one thing more — rhave to tell-you,- and_that,
is, that I am called away — to --- Ne York by
business, which will detain m e the full
length of his stay. So you will have to en
tertain him yourself. Mind and play your
cards-well,-and-I shall expect to find the mar
riage day fixed when I return."
"0 dear, what shall I do with the .horrid
man for a whole week Y"
"I dare say you will be dead in love with
him by the time I get back. You may re
member me to him when he arrives, and tell
him bow much I regret not being here to
welcome him "
That night Matilda kept awake for some
time, cmcocting a plan which might offend
the prejudices of the • expected visitor, and
throw the burden of a refusal upon
For she well knew that if he once proposed,
her uncle would be seriously angry if she
rejected him, and vety possibly would carry
ou t-the_threatAo_whiehhahad_giv_en __utter,
ance.•
It was about twelve o'clock the next day;
werebutve—
that ato young man, . z -rious-aspeotr-az
eended Mr. Parker's front steps, and rang
The bell. He was ushered into the draw
ing. room, where after waiting halt an hour,
he was joined by Matilda.
The young lady was by on means looking
her best. Her hair was loosely arranged,
her collar was awry, and - there was a very
preoeptible stain of ink upon her. finger.
"Mr, Jenkins, I presume," sho remark
ed.
The gentle man bowed and looked curious
"15 , at his entertainer.
"And I presuthe I am addressing Miss
Parker." •
Our'hereine inclined her head in the affir
mative.
"I hope your respected uncle is well" said
Stephen Jenkins, in the measured tone of
a young man who was old beyond his years.
'tl would not marry such a stiff old poke
for the world," was the not over complimen
tary refleetim of Matilda.
')ly uncle regrets very much not being
able to meet you," she said, in answer to his
question, "but be is called away to New
York by business I trust, however, that I
shall be able to entertain you."
"That I do not question," said the visitor
with a slow attempt at gallantry.
"I'm inclined to think be will before•he
goes," thought Matilda.
Looking at her fingers, she remarked com
posedly, as if she, for the first, time, observ
ed the stain of ink, "I hope you will excuse
the appearance of my fingers, but I have
been writing all the morning, and I couldn't
remove all traces of the ink."
"You were writing letters I presume ?"
said Stephen. •
"0, no? not at . all, I was writing' an arti
cle on "Woman's Bights," fur the 'Bugle of
Freedom.'"
Mr. Jenkins started, uneasily.
"I suppose you are in the habit of seeing
that paper," said Matilda.
"No, said he stiffly.
"All you don't know what you lose.—
Composed and edited entirely by females.
But perhaps,—"
Matilda interrupted herself to ring the
bell.
"Jane," said she to the servant, •'you may
go up stairs and bring down a manuscript
which you Will find on my table."
"A what, ma'am?"
"A manuscript—a sheet of paper
,with
writing on it. Poor Jane," she continued
after the servant had gone out, "she would
not be so ignorant, if man had not denied to
ue Women the advantage of education which
he claimed for himself."
By this time Jai(' had returned with the
manuscript.
"If you like, Mr. Jenkins, I will read you
what I have written "
Mr. Jenkins looked dismayed, but manag
ed to utter a feeble—"O, certainly."
Matilda in an ein'phatio manner, began to
read as follows:
"Mrs. Editor:—Permit me again to raise
my voice in trumpet tongs, against the des
potic rule of man, over our down trodden
sex. Euliehtened as we are disposed to con
sider the present generation, is it not a
dis
grace, and a hurning,shame, that men should
monopolize all the offices of honor and profi , ,
and leave to his equal—shall .1 not say .his
superior, io point of intellect—only a few un
desirable and, laborious posts. What, I pay,
is the. reason that men should take upon
themselves to govern, and expect us meekly
'to submit to the yoke
. which they seek to im
pose upon us? Why should we not see'a fe
male in the chair of State, tind—"
"This is all I had • written, blr. Jenkins,
when • on came said 3lutilda, breaking off
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTi, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY MORNING, MAY 4;1866:
urth - ere
from_ . the reading. "You will easily under;
stand the idea that I was about ,to develope;
and, I have no doubt, you will agree with
me."
"Do you really think, :Miss Parker, that
there should be no distinction in ' point el
occupation between men and women?" ex.
oluimea the sedate Stephen, horrorstruck.
"Why should there be?" said Matilda,
with spirit "Do you doubt whether woman
has an intellect equal to that of a man?"
"Is there a female Shakespeare?" asked
Mr. Jenkins-
"Yes," said Matilda. promptly. "Did you
ever read Mrs. Browning's poems?"
"I can't say I have," returned Stephen.
."Ah, then I shall have the pleasure of
making you acquainted with her. '
She rang the bell.
"Jane," said she "go up to my room and
bring duwn the book you will find on the ta
ble."
Sane_d idLso
"We have an hour before dinner it seems"
said Matilda, looking at her watch,—"ln
what way can we better improve it, than by
perusing together this noble monument of ge-,
nius."
Mr. Jenkins looked terrified, but before
-he--bad-tiucia_tn_raise_an objection Matilda
had commenced
"She read aloudfaithfully for the hour
referred—to—it—seemed_three_h_ours to the
unhappy Stephen—who had not the :slight
est apprehension of poetry and description.
He was quite delighted when the dinner
bell rang, and so was Matilda in her secret
heart.
"I am afraid,",said she, "We 'shall have
to rest from our reading till after dinner,
but by commencing imme diately afterwards
we may get a quarter through by tea-time."
"flow many T,ages are there in the Neil!"
the rang man inquired hesitatingly.
"Only a little more than four hundred,"
was the encouraging reply.
The dinner proved to be not a very-social
meal. Matilda confined herself entirely to
literary subjects, and evaded all attempt& io
change the topic
;Good .Gracious!" thought the young
man, "and this was the young girl I was to
marry. I'd as soon marry a diotionary,al
though she is pretty, but then she is a strong
minded woman! I should be talked to death
in less than a moni .
Stephen Jenkins stopped two days; but at
the end of that time, announced that he
should not be able to remain longer. During
that time the poor man had hoard more po
etty than ever before iu his life, and had
conceived a deadly hatred against the whole
tribe of female authoresses, particularly Mrs.
Browning.
~ Where is Mr. Jenkins?" inquired °Mr.
Parker on his return.
"Gone, uucle," said Matilda.
"Gone! When did he go?"
"He only stopped a couple of days:,
"Why' be was to have stopped a week.
What was the matter with him?"
"I think, uncle, he was disappointed in
me,', 'said Matilda, demurely.
"Did he leave no message for me?"
"Here is a note, uncle!"
Mr. Parker hastily broke open the mis
sive, and read as follows:
"My DEAR SIR.—IO order to prevent
misunderstanding,, I ought to say that I
don't think it will be well to adhere to the
foolish compact, which was entered into
some time since, with regard to my marriage
with your niece. Though a very charming
young lad;/, I don't think that our tastes are
all cougettial,.and I hereby resign any pre
tensions I. may be supposed to have had to
her hand. Regretting not to have bad the
pleasure of seeing you,
"I remain, very respectfully,
STEPHEN JENKINS."
"Why, the puppy has bad the audacity to
resign his pretensions to your hand !" et
claimed the indignant uncle.
"Then can't I be married ?" inquired Ma
tilda in comical disappointment.
'Nee, you shall marry the first man that
offers."
It was very remarkable, that on the very
next day-Edward Manly should have asked
Mr. Parker's permission to address his niece
—a permtssioo which was at once accorded.
The marriage took place within a few weeks
and I don't think he has ever repented mar•
rying a atrono-mindod woman !
Re;Xiarkable Case.
A Kalamazoo (Michigan) correspondent
of the Detroit Advertiser relates the follow
ing ,Mrs Howard, who has long been
a resident of this county, and who has been
hopelessly insane for nearly thirty years, was
seat fur by her husband in California Ao
companied by a daughter-in-law, she left
here, and proceeded on the journey by steam:
er. When out about four days from New
York, a most violent storm arose, which las-.
ted three days, seriously threatening
the des
truction of the steamer and all on tioard.—
When, however,
the storm abated, what was
the surprise and delight of the daughter to
find that the all lady had suddenly recover
ed her mind, and was perfectly sane, though
She was at a loss to know how she was in the
place, and under the circumstances she found
herself' on awakening from such a long sleep
of the intellectual faculties. On arriving at
San Francisco. what was' the astonishment of
her husband to meet her whom he had not
seen for nine years, and whom he had deem,
ed hopelessly a maniac, sound and well, and
joyfully recognizing him. This was . a year
ago, Letters recently received by her friends '
he. e state that there has been no return of
the disease whatever, and-that ahe I
and entirely cured."
Tie a great comfort to a man with but a
duller in his pocket to know that if h an.
not invest in five twenties ho can in lINEty
fives.
Why is the riuderpisflike 'mouse Y I.le
,auhe the cell eutch
MAY•30111q1NO,
BY MILTON.
Now the' bright morning, star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The ilow'ry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
:Haiti bounteous May ! that: dolt inspire
Mirdt, and youth, and warm desire, •,.
Woods and groves are 'et thy dressing,
Hill and dale deth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Last Trial of Fidelity/
An officer of the French army, during the
reign of Nkpoleen, having incurred the sus
pisione or resentment of the Emperor, thought
it expedient to abandon his country, and
take refuge in one of the Austrian provinces,
and there he became advised of and initiated
- into`u society, the object of whose formation
was to hurl to the grptuulthq Colossus, whose
•arm silote.and goV4ithed thelacilL4matinent
of Europe, with alieepter . One Jay
a letter was brought to him containing the
usual signs and pass-words of the society,
and re• uiring him to repair on the following
night to a secluded spot in a forest, where
he would meet some of his associates, — , He
•_entbut foam! nobody. The orders were
repeated four times; the officer %Ought the
appointed place with
,no better success than
the first. On the fifth night of his appoint
ment at the rendezvous, after waiting some
time, he was on the point of returning, when
loud, cries suddenly-arrested
Drawing hie sword, he hastened to the
spot whence they seemed to proceed, and
was fired on bvh.tee_trienr-sedtrg
he was unwounded, instantly took to flight;
but at his feet. lay a bleeding corpse, in
which by the feeble Eght of the moon, he in
vain sought for returning animation. lie
,was,yet beralin_g_oNer the dead man, when a
detachment of chassenrs, summoned appa
rently by the noise of the pistols that had
been discharged at . hiniself, came up sudden
ly and arrested him as the assassin. fie was
loaded with chains, tried the next day, and
condemned to die for his supposed crime.—
His execution was ordered to . take place at
midnight. Surrounded by, the ministers of
-qt: he was led. at atf . • ;
• _ .
/Tar ie., _ -
light of torches, and .the ringing of bells, to
a vast sqqare, in the centre of which was a
scaffold, edvironed by horsemen. Beyond
these were a numerous group of spectators,
who muttered impatiently, and at intervals
sent forth a cry of abhorrence.
The victim mounted the scaffold, and his
sentence was read, and the first act- of the
tradgedy was on the point of fulfillment, when
an officer let fall a word of hope. An edict
had just been promulgated by the Govern
ment, offering a pardon and life to any con
demned criminal who should disclose the
members and secret tokens of a particular
association,• the existence of which tb e
Frenchman, to whom these words were ad
dressed, had lately became aware of, and of
which be bad become a member. He was
questioned, but be denied all knowledge;
they urged him to confess with promises of
additional reward—his only reply was a de
mand for immediate death—and his initia
tion was completed.
All that passed was a terrible trial of
delay. Those who surrounded him were
members of the society, and every , incident
-that has been described, from the summons
to the last moment of expected death, was
only a step in the progress of the fearful ex
periment by which they sought"to determine
the trust-worthinesss of the neophyte.
Palestine•
.One of the curious enterprises of the day
is a project gotten up by some Maine peo
ple, for colonizing Palestine. The head of
it is Mr. Adams, editor of a monthly paper
called the Sword of Truth and Harbinger o
Peace, who has applied to the Government
at Washington to obtain from the Sultan a
firman of protection for the colony. The
National Intbllig,encer says:
'The colonists have rlready purchased a
beautiful location for, their first city or tra
ding port, within ten minutes walk of Jaffa,
the ancient Joppa' The location is situa
ted in the midst of orange and lemon groves
and' pomegranate orchards; also surrounded
with fig trees and grape vineyards. We un
derstand they are building two vessels suit
able for carrying passengers and freight.—
The first vessel, with some 25 or 30 fami
lies, they purpose shall sail about the 15 . th
of next July. The object is to get there
just in time to put in crops of wheat and bar
ley. They take with them their furniture,
the materials .forotheir houses, and all kinds
of agricultural implitnents, and among them
reaping nuchines and threshing machines.—
Among those who go first will be carpeu
tars, masons, cabinet makers, boat builders,
dopers, milliners, shoemakers, farmers,
school teachers, and merchants. One gen
tleman will build a large hotel to accommo
date•some of the 30,000 European pilgrims
who annually visit Jerusalem by the way of
Jaffa. They go their) to become practical
benefactors of the country and people—to
introduce American aorioultnre, arts, sci
enoe, and mechanism; and to help resusciate
that once glorious land, as they believe the
time has now come to prepare the way for
the restoration of the deseendants of Abra
ham to the land of their fathers. They pur
pose having their vessels rue between Jaffs
and this country, carrying lumber and yeti
-ous other things to that country, and in re.
turn bring back hides, wine, olives, olive oil,.
dates, figs, lemons, oranges, and other kind
.of of fruit and productions of the *Autry.'
Mrs. Partington asks very indigarntly, if
the bills befpre Congresiare not eounterfeit,
why thero sgould be so muott difficulty in
passing thou?
THE SOUL'S LONGINGS
Fifteen years ago to night, a young girl
knelt beneath the starry sky to pray, and
the_hurden of her prayer was, that she
might be endowed with the powers or a ge
nius, that power might be given her to write,
to give voice, to the• tumultuous feelings surg
ing through her soul. This las all the boon
she craved. • She asked not •for love, for
wealth, or high estate, neither did he ask for
fameyas yet, ambition had no place in her
heart. She asked but for power to weave to
gether the loose matter that was clogging up
her heart, to write out its unwritten music,
its glowing dreams and prophecies, and it
was granted her
. .
'.Will it bring her happiness?"
Years passed away. Again. she knelt to
pray. Her dark eyes, radiant with the light
of genius were fixed upon the distant heav
ens, her lips were half unclosed and her long
dark ringlets fell over her uncovered shoul
ders; she looked likeline inspired. Sudden
ly, the fair head was bent low. and her hand
i
raised,: with a I j iind,of : , d e recatiag gesture,
eio itipmil lairow, had' ore t: itt , :upon her j oy.
Therfoldi4ghei aiinti-O iir'hiabeart, she
bowed'heif faibe in the ' ust ofAiimihation,
and, in broken words, exclaimed:.
‘Triithiiitie — ltivisill" ; • .„ ~
Ah! she id not happy! she:craves-the-boon
of love.
It was not enough that mighty power was
given her over her own mind and the minds
of others. She made her world apart from
the world She lived in. She had won fume,
and bevies of h . .. :nd—yet her woman's
eat . " -- 7eivt ed for love.
It was sad to see the fair young bead bow
ed so humbi • to see
IT=TFit the thought that the boon she
craved so passionately, asking that, and only
that, had failed to satisfy her heart. Again
her prayer was granted .
The love of a nobla heart was given her
a pririMy horne+,4l44-the--tromagf if — -74 F
o 'a multi
tude. • Will the love she had coveted fill her
heart? Will love do more for the woman's
heart than lame did for the girl's?
She bad a happy home, sheltered in from'
the world's clamor and change—that far off
world she thought so beautiful. Would that
she could part the thick curtain that hung
between it and her. She did so, and found
-That-the-emsrtain-was-c-f-coarse=groy- - - - serge,
that the beautiful colors it had worn at a dis
tance had been wrought_byherown-brain
She wished, then, that she had not peered
beyond the curtain that had been so wisely
bung between her and the world that spew
ed so fair, for she bad gained more light and
knowledge than was wise for tier. She
found out the fallacy of her early dreams;
that love and truth were not the things they
seemed; that happiness was a myth, and. the
"trail of the serpent was over them all."
Alai! her heart is yet unfilled! her soul un
eati,fied.
And now, from white quivering lips, a
new prayer arises, But this time she does
not kneel, but bears it above in her heart,
and, at last, when the want grows unbeara
ble, the trembling lips utter, passionately :
"Give me children, 0 Father !"
A. little life fluttered into existence—a
sweet, pale blossom of wondrous loveliness.
The blue of the violets was in its eyes, and
the rose flush upon its cheek. There was
a new delicious feeling in her heart, and her
soul thrilled to the touch of those tiny fin.
gets.
Was the want in her soul filled ? bad the
babe's coming stilled its longings ? Ah, no !
something wanting—what could it be?
There came a night when the breath floa
ted out from the babe's lips, and it went out
to dwell beyond the perly' clouds. Then
there came hours of darkness and sorrow—
afterwards there was light.
As the sicken mother gazed upon the wee,
waxen babe she bad loved so well, she could
scarcely "believe and quiet herself" before
Him who bad bereaved her. But even in
the midst of her anguish, a new revelation
dawned upon her. She saw that she had
blindly followed her own will, regardless of
His who created her. Evety prayer of her
life had been answered. Genius had been
given her, and fame, and love, and, more pre.
ciotiti'far than all, the. sweet child love,whieh
is surely a foretaste of Heaven.
Once more beneath the stars she knelt to
pray; not the young girl of fifteen years ago,
but It woman, weary and worn. • The prayer
this time is not for Intellectual endowment,
not for human love, nor fame, nor the pat
tering of children's feet, but faintly from
white lips, came the words :
"Wash me, and I shall be whiter than
snow I' Let thy love fill my heart, 0, Path.
er I Thy love alone can satisfy the soul !
Take away all vain dreams, all strivings af
ter earthly happiness, all bitter yearnings for
human love! Let the prayer of my heart
ever be, not my will, Father, but Thine, be
done ! Thy will, let it be done on earth as
it is in heaven, now and forevermore 1"
Lord ! make me what Thou wilt,
So Thou wilt take
What Thou dost make,
. And not disdain
To house me, though among
Thy coarsest grain.
A young married woman in Cincinnati, on
Tuesday, shot herself whilst in a fit of
temporary insanity•to which she was oc
casionally subject. She was in bed with
her husband and babe at the time of ei.,m•
witting the deed, and her husband knew
nothing of her intentian until awakened by
the report of_ the _pistol. Rec Overing her
sews as soon as the shot was fired, she
contessed that before her marriage she had
been seduced by her uncle, and ,was never
herself afterward. She died in about two
hours. Is that uncle alive?
The entire assets of a recent bankrriptwas
nine children. The creditors acted magnet."
iwously, and let him keep tliem.
Signs oi`the Tf*,eiv. .! • •
Whenever you se;ti;:ladi leading, a pee
-
&by a string through the, streets it is a
sign she has no children to bestow heit•affec
tions upon.
When you see a man 'carry his head so
i
high as to tip baekwar3s, it s a sign his
brain, weighs more in the region of self es
teem than in the intellect. •
Whenever you meet a -man .or a woman
who ie ashamed to be caught at any respea
table eMPloymeet, it is a sigh 'there is a very
Wader spot somewhere about the brain..
Whenever you.see a couple sit at the ta,
ble of a hotel, and try to attract attention by
finding fault with every, dish that is brought
them, it is a sip? they dine, on cod-fish aud.,
salt beef at home.
Whenever you see a fashionable lady a
fraid to wake the acquaintance of the wife
of a:respectable mechanic,' it is s sign her
father or her grandfather hoed potatoes or
shod horses for a living.
Whenever you see kman of a(ealth turn
out of his way to avoid meeting a poor ac
quaintance, it is a sign he has nothing brit
wealth to relowatend him.
Whenever you see.a young man ashamed
of his old , fasbioned flakter, apd mother, who
have reared and educated ltimAct_the—ver-y
-best of their alatititia, it is a sign they west
td
ei eir money uii tiim . _t would Mtge paid,
them a better per centage in a bank.
Whenever you see a lady appear very de
vout in church, who is decked out in laces,
feathers,
flowers and finances, it is a sign
she thinks wore of dre-s, than she does of
prayer.
Whenever you see a dandy swelling through
the streets, flourishing his cane and quiz
zing glass, it is a sign he has just brains e
nough to imagine you will see his glossy new
hat, and nut te long ears that fall beneath
it
Whenever you hear a man a. • OFe fe
rirri/Thrrrrrer itAs' - '77'.e7illis advanta
ges may have beau, it is a hure sign his own
is partially deficient.
SINGULAR STORY.—Au Ohio paper tells
the following rather singular story:
Four days after the rebels fired on Fort
Sumter, a son of Mrs. Duncan, of Mecca O
hio, enlisted for the war. - fie j.doed a West
ern regiment, and after being in several bat
es, was reported killed at the battle ofStone
_Riv_er_ _His body was brought home and in
terred. Afterwards intelligence was brought
to the parent by returned Union prisoners,
drat hereon Aas not dead, but in a rebel
prison in Georgia. Other prisoners return
log from there last spring, brought the sad
news of his death to the sorely distressed,
family. •When the war closed an opportu. -
airy was offered to penetrate the rebel lines,
Mr. Duncan sent down and had, his son
brought home again and buried. Having
had him buried twice, as was supposed, it
was natural that they should be reconciled
to, their )(me, but a few days ago their son
Bob, in spite of wounds, and dewhs, and fu
nerals, ea m e "marching home," and i s
new enjoying the hospitality of the parental
roof.
ANECDOTE OF Da.' Emmoms.—A Panthe
ist minister met him nue day and abruptly
asked :
"Mr. Emmons, how old are you ?"
'•Sixty, air; and how old are you ?"
' "A. old as. the creation," was the answer
in a triumphant tone.
"Then you're the same age •with Adam
and Eve ?"
"Certainly; I was in the garden when they
were." .
"I have always heard that there wris a
third person in the garden with them," re
plied the doctor with great coolness, "but I
never knew before that it was you."
''You have lost your baby, I hear," said
one gentleman to another.
"Yes, poor little thing! it was only five
months old. We did all we could for it.
We had four doctors, blistered its head and
feet, put mustard poultices 01l over it, gave
it nine calomel powders, leeched' its temples,
had it bled, gave it all kinds of medicine,
and after a week'S illness it died.
"If you marry," said a Roman consul to
his son, filet it be a woman who has judg
ment and industry enough to 'get a meal of
victuals; taste enough to dress neat; pride e
nough to wash before breakfast; and sense
enough to
,hold her tongue."
When a Tennessee girl is kissed, she,
frowns and says : "Put that article right.
back, sir, where you took it from."
TOAST TO TEE LADIES.-4 1 70 append the
latest toast to the ladies, which was got oft
at a recent public dinner :
"The ladies—May their virtues ever ex
ceed the magnitude of • their skirts, while
their faults remain smaller than their bon
nets."
Christianity is not a theory to be eritieis.
ed so much as a lila to be copied.
Which is the most profitable of business ?
The shoe, for every pair is soled before it is
finished.
j' many an enamored pair have court.
`e(l la poetry and lived in prose.
In the march of life don't heed the order
of "right ibout,' when you know you ate a.
bout right.
If brooks are as poets call them the most
joyous things in nature what are they al
viuyS murtauriag about
• -Features without grace are like a . " cloak
without a lace.
.Thirria,ier without ineeis Is 'like a horse
w ithout ►iis beaus., ' ",.
_~*~
Y 9; !
W"1- M
13;t.i.:17,c•ar.
NUM ER 46