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