3a-sr liAira mirear. VOLUME XX PO~]]'l*3:a a L- THE SAILOR BOY'S, FAREWELL. Wait, unit, ye winds! till I repeat A parting signal to the fleet *hose station is at .home; • Then wait the soa•boy's simple prayer, And let it oft be whispered there, Farewell to Father!, reverend hulk ! In spite of metal, spite of bulk, Soon may his cable slip; . Yet, while the parting tear is moist, The Bag' of gratitude I'll hoist In duty. to the ship. Farewell to Mother! first•class she ! Who launched me on life's stormy sea, And rigged me. fore and aft; May Providence her timbers spare, And keep bull in good repair To tow the smaller craft. Farewell to sister! Lordll "Yacht But 'whether she'll be "manned" or not, I cannot now foresee ; May some good ship a "tender" prove, \Veil-found in stores of truth and love. And take her under lee. Farewell to George ! the 6 , 1011 y Boat !" And all the little craft afloat In home's delightful bay; NV hen" they hioy Wisdom give the weather-gunge And guide them on their way. Farewell to al ( * On Lire's rude main Perhaps we re'er shall meet again, Through stress of stormy weather; But, summoned by the Board above, I.Ve'll harbor in the port of Love, And all be moored together. SIIER - 10 - AN AT Cilliß Ciiii, Shoe the 'steed with silver, That bore him to the fraY. When he heard the guns at dawning,, Miles away; , When he bran] them calling, calling, Mount, nor stay; Quick, or all is lost! They've surprised and stormed the root, They've pushed your routed host Gallop, retrieve the day ! House the horse in 4mino— For the foam-flakes blew, While through the red October. He thundered into view, They cheered him in the looming, Horseman and horse they knew; The turn of the tide began, The rally of bugles ran, He swung hiq hat in the van, The electric hoof sparks flew. Wreathe the steed and lead him For the charge he led, Touched and turned the cypress Into amaranths far the head OrPliihp, king of riders, Who raised them from the dead, The camp--nt dawning lost, 1.33 , eve recovercd—forced, Stang with laughter °Stile host As vanquished Early lied.. Shroud the horse in sable-- Foi the mounds they heap ! There is firing in the valley, And yet no strife they keep, It is the puling volley, It is the pathos deep. There is glory f)r the brave Who led and nobly save; But no knowledge in the gra •e, Where their nameless followers sleep r4tICISICIM3COUALDWIZ. Chances of Life An old document contains some interest ing information unknown to many, and rare ly encountered in the papers. Among "oth er things, it contains a table exhibiting an average, attained by persons employed in the various popular professions of the day: In this particular, as in most others, the farm. ere have the advantage over most of the rest of mankind, as their average is sixty-five.— Next upon the docket come the judges and justices of the peace, the dignity of whose lives is lengthened out to sixty.four. Fol lowing them immediately in the catalogue of longevity, is the bank officer, who sums up his account at the age•of sixty-three. Pub lic officers cling to their existence with • as much pertinacity as they retain their offices —they never resign the offices, but life for- Bakes them at fifty-six Coopers,. although they seem to stave throughlife, bang on an• til they are fifty eight. The good works of the clergy . tnen follow them at fifty five.— Shipwrights, hatters and lawyers, and rope makers, (Some very appropriately - 3 go togeth cr•at fifty-four. "Village Blacksmith," like• most of his contemporaries, dies at fifty-one. illati3hers follow their bloody career for pre cisely Ilan century. Carpenters are brought to - the scaffold at forty nine. Masons realise the cry of "Mort," at the age forty-seven.--= Traders cease their speculation at forty-six. Jeweiers are disgusted with the tinsel 'of life at forty-four. Bakers, manufaaturers and various mechanics die at. forty , tbree., .114 ~painters yield to their colic' at forty-two'.—'-L lite brittle thread• of the tailor's :life- is bro. •Woitf fortrone. Editors, like all other be inga wbo•corno.under the special , admiratiOn of the gods, die comparatively young'--they WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN OUN TPE k' 4 4 F 14 Oik T 11 antompliah their errand of mercy at forty.— The musician redeems his last note and plays his dyin g fail at thirty-nine. Printers be come dea d matter at thirty-eight. The ma chinist is usually blown up at thirty-six.— The teacher usually dismisses his scholars at the sofa of thtrty-four, and the clerk is e ven sho rter lived for be must needs prepare his balance sheet at thirty-three. No ac count is given of the average longevity of wealthy uncles. The inference is fair there fore, that they aro immortal. Ministering Angels. The beautiful have gone with their bloom rout tlt gaze — of — lstimar — eyes: — Suif eyes that make it ofting time la - our hearts are seen no more. We have loved the light of many a smile that has faded from us now; and in our hearts have lingered sweet voices that now are hushed in the silence of death, Seats are left vacant in our earthly homes, which none again can 1111. Kindred and friends, loved ones, have passed away one by one; our hearts are left desolate; we are lone ly without them. They have passed with their love to "that land from 'whose bourne ino traveller returns." Shall we ever see 1 them'again? Memory turns with. lingering I regrets to recall those smiles and the laved tones.of those dear familiar voices.. -In fan. cy they are often by our side, but their home is by a far and brighter shore. They visit us iu our dreams, floating over our memory like shadows over moonlit waters, When I the heart is' ivory with anguish and the soul is bowed With grief, do they not come and whisper thoughts of comfort and hope? Yes, sweet memory brings' them, to. . us, ,and the love We bore them lifts the .heart from -earthly- aspirations -and-we-loge-to -join-them iti that better land. They hover around us, the ethereal dear, departed ones—the loving and the loved, they watch with eyes that slumber not. When gentle dreams wander ing to the angel land, in whispers wake the hymning strains of "that bright and happy choir, revealing many a tale of hope and bliss, and tenderness, and love, they tell of sunny realms, ne'er viewed by mortal eye—of forms arrayed in fadeless beauty—and lofty anthems to their Creator's praise are sounded forth in sweet,',sepharic numbers. And this bright vision of the blest dissolves the tumult of life's jarring scenes; they fade in air, and then we glory in the thought that we are heirs of immortality. And wiry is it that we regard with such deep reverence and love, those bright, celestial beings o f aoether sphere? Ah, it.is because ,they take an in terest in our welfare, and joy over our suc cess, in the great battle of life. They are not selfish in their happiness, but fain would have , us share it with them—Kingwood Chronicle.: . . The Finest Speech Ever Made. The Westminster Review pronounces A braham Lincoln's Gettysburg speech the fin est that ever fell from human lips. In view of this fact, and that it is even tarofe perti nent than it ever was, we take pleasure in publishing it. Here is the speech : "Four score and seven years ago our fath. ers brought forth upon this continent a, new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any na tion so conceived ann_dedieated,can—long-en- - ' duce, 'We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We are met to dedicate a portion of it as a final resting place of those who here gave their lives that the nation 'might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. "lint in a large sense we cannot conse crate, we cannot hallow this ground,• The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it fir above our poi , . cr to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedica ted to the unfinished work they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to he dedicated to tho great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased 'devotion to the cause for which they gave the last full measure of' de votion—that we here highly resolve that the dead shall not have died in vain—that the nation shall, under God, have a cow birth of freedom, and that tho Governmeut of the people, and for the people, shall not petish from the earth." Trn SOUL —II one could go through his so•al hall by hall, chamber by chamber, story by story, and see bow vast the mansion is, how it gets out of repair on every side, and bow many vermin aro perpetually trying to make a lodgment in it, he might atbrd to have as much anxiety for that as a house. wife hos-for her house, whose work begins with every day and never ends,and who with brush and broom, and with servant following s incessantly searches, searches. And yo t some sltingle is off, some paint is gone, some glass is broken, rats and mice are in the walls and partitions, hero and there are webs with their vietims•on them, and dust and dirt ate everywhere. You can not keep even a house in order, and when that house is the won dernus house of the soul, wiltt a population such as no city ever had, and with trooping thoughts and feelings_ thaeno army' ever e qualled for members, is thole' un ocoeMon for apprehension on account of that? And .ev• cry work that a man is called to as a disci ple"of C hrist is one that, should keep hini waked up, not by vulgar fear; but by that salutary apprehension which goes by love. . THE Roaris.—"Dar ar," said a,sable ora tor, addressing his brethren, "two 'roads to' ilia world De one aro a broad and narrow road d-4 leads to perdiotiou, and deader a narrow and broad triad dat leads to aesivuo tion." "Ef dat am de ease," said 'a sable hearer, "dis culled iodiwidual tikes .to de woods." JLim jCl3:eieroc,±Lttexst Fal IZy hTeloaspistpars Moral Gerna. Hope to the soul is as an anchor to a ship in a dark night, on an unknown coast, and amid a boisterous ocean. It is the moat em inent of all the radyantages *llia religion now confers, and it is the universal corder ter; and if it were entertained with that, full persuasion which faith demands, it would banish discontent, extinguish grief, and ran• der.life much more pleasant than it general. ly is. If you have great talents, industry will im prove them; if moderate abilities, iridustry will supply the deficiency. Nothing is de nied to well directed labor , nothin_. is ever 1 - t - 6 - brea - ttained wii i . There is nothing which 'Dust end, to be valued for its continuance. If hours, days, months and years pass away, it is no matter what hour, what day, what month, or what year we die. The applause of a good actor isjue to him at whatever scene of the play IM makes his exit. It is thus in the life of a man of sense, A short life is sufficient to manifest him a man of honor and virtue.,,, When he ceases to be such be has lived too long; and while he is of such it is of no con sequence to - him how long he shall be so, provided be is so to his life's end. We bate some persons because we do not know them; and we will net know them be cause we hate them. Those friendships that succeed to such aversions are usually firm, for those qualities must be sterling that could notlinly gain our hearts, but conquer our prejudices in things far more serious than our friendships. Thus, there are truths' which some men despise, because they have not examined, and which they will not ex amine, because they despise. ---God-means-that-every - soul - which - waits 6n ,him should soar. Not creep nor burrow in the muck and mire of worldliness; not crouch in abject submission -as the slave of men and Satan—but soar. When a soul binds itself to God, and lives a life of holy consecration, it is able to take wings and dwell in the at mosphere of heaven. Ile who is passionate and hasty generally is honest. It is your old, dissembling hypo crite of whom you have to 'beware. There's no deception in a bull dog. It is only the cur that sneaks up and bites you when your back is turned. THE MISSION OF THE REPUBLICAN PAR TY.—In a campaign speech at. Chicago, on Friday evening, Senator rates closed an ef fective speeoh as follows : Fellow-cititens, the - Republican party had a low beginning—an humble beginning.— The Whig party and the Democratic party broke up on the Slavery question, when it was proposed to surrender all this fair...4erri tory of ours to slavery: There was an Intel: ligcnce in this country which began to ask the question, why continue four millions of human beings in slavery ? Why have this dark blot upon our national escutcheon ? Why have a Government that ignores all.the relations of human life, which separates hus• band from wife, and parents from children, which takes the babe from the mother that, gave it birth ? The Republican party took up, that question. I was one of the men in the country in which I live who advocated universal ireedorn,and if I thank God for any• thing, it is that while I have committed ma ny faults, I have been true to the poorest of the poor. ur party has triumphed—gloriously tri umphed—and to-day it is the party of Amer ica. It has dedicated this country to !Leo dom. It supported Lincoln's Proclamation of Emancipation. It elected him in 1860 and 1864, and it is now, thank God, the dominant party upon the continent of North America, and it will not stop until it has ae• complished all its objects. It is the true party, because it is the only national party. The Politicians of the South, ever since they were defeated in the effort to destroy the Government, have been plotting to get possession of it. There is not a public man to-day in the South honestly laboring for its restoration to prosperity. What are called the public men of the late slave States are the ex•rebels. Only ex rebels are allowed to become proininent. Ex officers in the Confederate military, naval and civil service are the only men who earl be elected.to office in the South. The effort of such men, as they gain civil power, is not to .improve, the condition of the masses, but to regain for themselves the authority and the privilege, politically, which &coy lost in the rebellion. These factsi prove the present condition of the South. The President is plotting with the politicians of the South for their benefit. In the menhtime the people of the South who are honeitly anxious to abide the tests and excel.t the conditions of Congress for a restoration to the Untoia, are suffering. It will be the peculiar and patriotic duty of Congress to counteract the plots of the l'res idont and the traitor politicians of the South, and when this is fairly accomplished, the people of that section wal be restored Co prosperity. During the 'brief special term of Court held by Judge Hall last Friday, several ap. plications were made for naturalisation pa. pers. Among the applieants was a native of "Pullerland." Ho took with him a German friend to prove his residence in the noun y. Of this witness the Judge asked "Do you know the applicant, Mr. --." I •Yesh. I well knows him " "Is his moral character good r 'OLP, yeah. yeah, Shudge, he's all right-- votes wit us 1" • , The Judge could scarce reprepa a smile at the ;tower to his question, awl we think it too good to keep. • "Whet timehia it,'Toni ?" "Juntlime to pay that little account, you owe me." -- ' ‘ l Ol, faded' We' 11,:t (lick% think it was half so . INNER FRIENDS. Let your summer friends go by With the sumther,vreathert Hearts there are that tglll not fly, Though the storm should gather. Summer love to fortune clings; - - Fsom the wreck it saileth. Like the bee that spreads it wings When the honey failetb. 'Rich the soil where weeds appear; Let the false bloom perish; Flowers there are more rare and dear, " That-yei-siilf-may—cherish. Flowers of feeling, pure and warm, Hearts that ca nnot , wither; These for thee, shall bide the, storm, As the sunny weather. • To Mothers. Many a mother, with a family of little ones about her, often hears the questions; "What can I do?" "May't I do this or that?' 'Where can I go?' These questions seem to 'come most frequently at the busiest time, and amid the most pressing cares.— With many little ones, and perhaps limited means, the mother. is,anxicius ,and troubled —anxious to train her children aright; nod troubled lest she may neglect her household cares. They come to her with their 'wants, overworked and tired as she is; and fearful lest her work shall not be accomplished, she turns them off impatiently, to be idle and un happy, forgetting, too. that her inipatience will be marked, and the example only too quickly followed. NVhy is it, she aska her aaelfpare-therthairructst—t-fouble-some when I am the most hurtled? Because, I answer, they are not provided with stifficient occu pation. ' Give the little creatures- enough to dti, and to do with; blocks' of wood, rag ba bies, little wooden or china animals, and something to draw them about in, if it be but the cover of a pasteboard box, with string to draw it by. Such playthings will often amuse then, better than the more cost ly and beautiful toys. I have seen three lit tle boys happy all day long with such things. Give them paper to out, and praise them for the pretty things they out. • Let the old er ones make lamplighters, and as sure as they feel that they are helping some one, they will be happy. They can easily learn to pick up all the litter they make. I have heard mothers say their children should nev er cut paper around a room. Better a little, aye, even a good deal of dirt and confusion, if you can teach your children to be useful, and keep them happy and contented. They should have playmates, plenty of a; but select those that you know to be well trained—who behave as you wish your children to behave: Give them a taste for the refined and gentle. They will be the better able to select for themselves as they mingle in the world. Remember there is much involved in training up a child. It is not only to make him obedient, though that is the first duty, yetitt p 3 il t: be taught habits of neatness and or his tastes are to be cultivated, repressing tlhe 'e vil and encouraging the good. Teach them to work out of love to their parents or to each other. Let them feel 'that they are a help and comfort to_y_puquarrel,- teachOW — a) the golden rule, and it is aston ishing how early they may be guided by its precepts. But above all, parents, friends and guardians, set them such an example as you wish them to follow—govern your tem pers; resist your own provocations to fretful ness, impatience or .resentment, and you will 'soon see them following in your footsteps, if, with earnest prayer, you lead them to Him who has said; "Stiffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is . the' Kingdom of II caven."— Country Gen. dernan. . "It was my Brother's." While passing along rapidly up King street, we saw a little boy seated on a curb stone. lie was apparently about five or Biz years old, and• his well combed hair, clean hands and face, bright•though well patched apron, and whole appearance, indicated that he was the child of a loving though indigent mother. Ns we looked.. at. him closely, we were struck with the heart broken expres sion of his countenauoe, and the marks of recent tears on his cheek. So, yielding to an impulse which always• leads us to sympa thize with the joys or sorrows of. the little ones, we stopped, arid, putting a hand upon his head, asked what was the matter. 1•Ie replied by , holding up his - open' hand, in which wo beheld the fragments of a broken tiny toy—a figure of a cow. "Oh I is that all ?• Well, never mind -it. Step into the nearest toy-shop,and buy nit. other;" and we dropped a lour•pence into his hand. • (-That will buy 3DO, will it not ?" 'Oh ! yes," replied be, bursting into a par oxysm of grief; "but that was 'little , brother Tommy's, and he is deSd." The wealth of the - world could not have supplied the vacancy that •the -breaking of that toy had left in his little heart. It was Tommy's, and he was dead !. • StANTSII PROVERBS —A gain al. God's wrath no house iistrong. To a grateful man give more than he ask ed. iro.a hungry man no bread is bad. Nothing is strong against death. To refuse and delay giving is all the same. A good man finds his native soil iu every country. - The tongue touches the tooth-that sidles. - To mad words lend deaf ears. Ho preaches who lives..well, . • A•good heart conquers ill fortune. - Correct one who is iu fault and he will im mediately, hate you., Buy'riliat 'oil do not want, and you' will sell what you cannot mare. Potatoee.and Progeny. Mrs. S. C. Eakin her "Sketches of Irish Character," relates.the following amusing an•_ codote. It is all about a certain Lady Mid- dleton, who, contrary to her moat ankiorks wish, was unblessed with any children. Af• ter an absence with her liege lord in, England, she returned with him to' reside for a time on ono of their Irish estates.' ' As. the car riage drove up to the Mansion, she• noticed several fine' looking children .about the gate, and having learned that , their mother was the wife or the gate porter, she determined to interrogate her, relative, to th 3 cause of her fecundit ,• she therefore nest da • her way down to the porter's:lodge, and nom. menced her inquiries: 'Whose children are these, My good wo man?' 'All my own, my good lady.' 'What! threo_infants of the same itge?' 'Yes, my lady; Iliad three the last time.' 'How long' are you married?' 'Three years, your ladyship,' . 'And 'how' many children have you?' 'Seven, my lady.' At last came the question' of questions— how she came to have so many . children?— The poor woman, not well knowing what this catechism meant, and not well knowing bow; to wrap up in delicate words her idea of cause end effect, blushed and grow confused, and at last replied—'l think it must be the potatoes., toy This unfolded a theory of population quite new to Lady Middleton,who eagerly demand= ed: 'The potatoes! Do you eat. touch of them?' 'Oh yes, ray lady. Very .sehlom we have bread,and so we take potatoes the year round' really agitata with - her. new information, the lady farther asked—'And Acre - do you get the potatoeb?' 'We grows thew in our little gardetcsure; Pat !ills it.' 'Nell,' said Lady Middleton, 'send me up a ()art bed - of these potatoes, and the stew ard will pay you for them.' Shortly after her ladyship .roie. to leave the house, and, indeed, had left it, wheit the woman ran after her, and, blushing, with some hesitation asked her: 'And sure, toy,la dy, is it to have children that you want po tatoes?' • It was now the lady's turn to blush, and she replied in the affirmative 'Because,' added the woman, am thinking if it is, Pat had better fetch them tO you himself.' Aftaid he Might be Dead. Scene at a counting-room of a morning newspaper. Enter a man of Teutonic ten denems,corisiderably the worse for last night's spree. Teuton—(To the man at the desk)—" If you blease, sir, I want de baper mit dis morn ings. One vot hash de names ob de peebles vot kills eholeta all de vile." Ife was handed a paper, and after looking it over in a confused way, said: "Vill you pe so good ash to read de names vot don't have the cholera any more too soon just now, and see if Carl Geinsenkoopenoffen hash got 'ow?" The clerk very. obligingly read the list, the Teuton listening with trembling atten tion, wiping the persperation from his brow meanwhile to great excitement. When the I is t-was-co mpletedv - th n son—=, well, no matter about the whole name —it wasn't there. The Teuton's face bright e,ned up, and he exclaimed: i'You don't find 'era?" Clerk—"No such' name there, sir." Teuton—(Seizing him warmly by the hand) '—"Dish ish nice—dish is some funs—dat ish my names. I pin drunk ash never wash, and I was afraid I had gone tod mit cholera, and didn't know it. But I vas smut" A GOOD POSITION.--A Southern gentle man, putting up at a Now York hotel, met on Broadway one of his former chtittels,who; during the war, had taken a prolonged fur lough for an indefinite period, and had not returned' to his residence in the sunny Swath. Julius was all dressed up in snuff colored pants, white vest, blue boat and brass but. tons, and purple kid groves; and swung his cane as gracefully as any of the Broadway dandies. "Well, Julius," said the gentle man, "what are you doing up here?" "Well nausea, I lives at do norf at present—in de metropolis of do norf, I has a position as head man at a betel." "What are you do ing at the hotel—waiter 7" "No, sah; no waitab; rze got a big thing at a hotel in Fulton street; in de summer season I bites de corn from de cobs for succotash, and in de winter I chews up de cold meat for hash." A geloa , story is told of a Western farmer, a candidate for Congress,whose'neigßor was in the habit.of stealing his hogs, and, was finally. caught in the act Aniions to secure the man's vote the farmer went to him and said : "Now, I make this proposition, if you will let my hogs alone in the- future, I will not only say nothing. of the past, but when I kill in the fall I'll put into your cellar five barrels of as rood pork as I make." The' fellow rlfleeteil a moment, and. replied : "Well, tiruirc, that's a fair proposition, any how, and seeing, as its you, I'll do, it.. But I vow I believe I shall lose pork by the op eration." - ' , lt I were so unlucky;' Said en officer, 'as to have a stupid son.L. would• certainly by all means, make him a.parson ' A elergyman who was in company. replied, 'You think LIU' ferently, air, from your /gaol' ' ,• . Why is John Smith like .a bailly.oooked buckwheat calie? - • PeCautia j 'Brown. When is literary work like smoke?... ;When it cornea in volumes. . • • niw,etyle bonnet has brads its-appeir anee in Paris: It is' a twine string with: a diamon4 eat in the top. . , 012.00, 1 2 434. etekr Pleasures of Contentment: I have a rich neighbor who is always he' busy that be has no treasure to laugh; the whole:business of his life . is to, got money, more tnOttaY, that be way still get more and more money. Be is still drudging 012 saying, what Solomon says: "The diligeht hand maketh -rich." And it is true, indeed; but he considers not that it is not in the power of riches to make a man happy; . for it liMs wisely said, bya man of great observation, 'that there be as many miseries beyond rich- es as on this side of them." And yet 'hav en deliver us ftom• pinching poverty;' and .rant—that-having-tr-competen • , • I t content and •thankful Let us not repine, or so much as think that the gifts of God are unequally dealt, if we see another abourid with riches. when, God knows, the cares that are the keys that keep those riches 'hang of. ton ao heavily at the rich man's girdle, that they clog him with weary days and restless nights, oven when others sleep quietly. We see but the outside of the rich tnan's happiness; few 'consider him to be like the silk worm, that when she seems to play, is at the same time spinning her own .bowels, and census:Ging herself, And this many rich men de. loading themselves with corroding cares to keep 'whet they have already got.- -Let us, therefore, be thankfial for health end competence, and above all, for a quiet con science. 31tNTS FOR FAIIMERS —A correspondent of the Germantown .71e/rgrap7i.says: t is not what we make but .what we, save thud makes us rich. In looking; aronnd among my brother farmers, I notice men thin•ns wherein there - ft - 41ft be greatifeconomy in my .onibion. • In turtling eattle out late in therall, when the ground 12 SON to be trampled, upon. In letting cattle - stand - in - an unsheltered yard in cold, stormy weather, when there is room in the stab:e for them. In throwing their fodder in the yard to be trampled wader foot, instead of feeding it in racks. In not having water in the yard for tho cattle, hi-place of :driving them through anew and all kinds of weather to the creek, there. by losin g more in manure during the year then the interest of what it world eost to hring the water in the yard,* to say nothing of the. onvenience. in riot having a house for poultry to roost in, and save their droppings; the value of the latter from one hundred fowls, in one year, would pay the east of the building, not counting the advantage it would be to. the fowls. In not having a wood-house to cut in, on rainy days, and store up dry wood. In leavin g potato vines, weeds, Jo , go to waste, instead of hauling them to the hog pea, to be worked into manure. In riding about and leaving the manage- ment or the work too. much to hired help. • And last, but not least, in . sending their children to school a dap or two in each week, and allowing them to piny and loiter about the rest of it. A Itymenial epidemic (it' we dare so term it) largely prevails in all parts of the coun try. It defies quarantine acid all other reg ulations. It is carrying people "off" hy thou _sanda—lt —.l.ta-ravageßirre - an - ViennSlve in the commercial cities as in the rural districts The newspapers in all their issues contain long lists of the names of the victims. Doe tors of .Divioity and' of the Law are kept Constantly employed, not to stay but to in crease the epidemic. The old and the young yield to the malady. It leaves no pale cheeks behind. It rather ibereasos, for a time ; the bloom in beauty's cheek, and lends a light to many an eye that never before sparkled with pleasure. To be plain; there never were as many people getting married as are rushing into the bonds of Hymen at this period of the country's history. It's a good thing.— The institution is full of joy, and is the only source (except that of religion) whence pure pleasure is derived. These numerous mar riages are signior a permanent prosperity. We hail them as omens of good for the.coun. try. They will fill the gaps made by the war in the social organizations. We hope the epidemic will extend to all parts of the country until there is not a maid or a Bache.' for in the-land. The following .fanny advertisement of a runaway wifo was recently posted in a town in Northern New York. "My MU data Peter lc.°aril's, my wife's nam data Peter Ko too. Ile lev my house and no as me, any man dat truss him on my nam. data loss for you," ''Oh, rm ao glad you liko birds What kind do you most admire !" said a wife to her husband. I think a good turkey, with. plen ty of seasoning, auout as good. as 1=1:=1 Daesticks, describing. a New York bOard log house, Ray q you can always toll when they get a now kitchen girl by tho color of the hair in the biscuit. 'Did the minister put a stamp on.you Whew you- were married, Nary?' A'A stamp, Charlie! What far, pray?' Why, matches ain't legal without a stamp, you, know." I==ll 'Why do you, wiok, at me, Air **V. s beautiful young lady, angrily to a etrauzer, at a.patty, an ening.- or two virtue. 'I.: big" your patdou madam ,': replied the itt . iti.l.i! wicticed,4l3 an du when looltina: at the am' — l,9araPle or dozzneti*y eyed? ~ A wil - mier• %vim tvishea to marry 'at in ruut get Ilia departed wile a beautitu) mon ument. 21113 iittecaeds invariably. Ifiliviatelr lost IterApeeats, (save wilisperiug) h hAd forts offers ofinar- A ringo.• . rfUMBER 23
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers