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V OLUME ,XX
3PCI.IOIVICIAL.L. •
SPEAK GENTLY, MOTHEIL
Gently, mother, gently,
Chide thy little one,
'Tie a toilsome journey
-- 1 - 11 - krerliegturf
Many a vale of sorrow,
Many a rugged steep
Lieth in ha pathwey—
ml full oft it will weep--
Ohl Oen, gently,—gently.
Nindly, mother, kit.dly,
peak in tender tone;
That dear child, remember,
Echoes back thine own;
Teach in gentle accents,
Teach in words of love;
Let the softest breezes,
Kin d ly—mother—kindly.
Would'et thou have the setting
Of a gem most fair
In a crown of beauty,
It Were thine to wear*?
Mother train with caution
That dear little one;
G id e, reprove. and ever
Let-the-work-be-done
Gently—mothe r—geritly.
Take four pounds of rags and a bunch of shavings,
An old tin pan and a bunch of straw;
Then steal an old-hat-of somebodyls-leavings,
And swear its your own to get clear of the law,
Next get an old stocking and stuff it with paper,
And, if it's possible, put in a mote;
'hen-get-some - old - straw and-a--nutmetr - grater, ---
Then make them . all up in a nice little roll.
Put all these things i t a net of red,
And glistening beads must cover them all
Then fasten it on the back of your head,
And you '•a love of a waterfall."--
AlCitsiC3MMaLl4k. - NlE r '.
ONE of NATURE'S NOBLEMEN
My thoughts were far from any noblemen
of any kind as I stood amid a throng of oth
ere in one of the elegant dry goods establish•
raents, situated on the fashionable promenade
of our thriving metropolis.
I was one of many who lined the polished
counters, looking with admiring eyes at the
beautiful fabrics so temptingly displayed
The half hour's abscence of the obliging
clerk, who would find the style I required
only in a distant part of the house, allowed
me t o be entertained with watching the
streams of fair ones coming and departing.
Beautiful faces alight with happy life and
the excitement of 'shopping; older counte
minces with —'l'm determined to drive a
bargain!' looking forth from wrinkles, and
just perceptible 'crows' fee•,' evidences of
how burran nature unconsciously displays
itself. And the diversion it was to hear
those different voices—one sounding so sweet
and Clear, that, it produced more smiles on
the faces of the polite and obliging salesivin
and•eaused the very goods to be handled
with cheerfulness that was a marked contrast
to his fellow•clerk, whose customer 'was de•
ploring high prices, and disparaging materi
al, to h: querulous sharp tones that set some
sensitive nerves on edge.
And while I waited, and made mental crit
icisms to amuse myself, an incident occur
red a little out of the common observation of
shop visitors..,
A slight, small woman, pale, sad-eyed, and
wearing faded black name with a new influx
of visitors, walking timidly and casting half
frightened glances at the piles of pretty
stuffs.,
A bright new material on the counter near
where I stood, caught her eye; she tremb•
lingly inquired the price, when she was told,
my sharp eyes saw the bill twisted in the
quivering fingers with a perplexed, troubled
air, and my ears heard elle rutin:lured— -
'Annie would need ten yards!'
'Will you take it?
She lifted a pale, meek face, and answered
sadly—
'l cannot; I didn't think it would be so
much.'
She was turning away, when a gentleman
who like myself bad been looking and listen
ing, drew near, asking of the clerk—
'What does the lady want? - I will wait
'upon her—you attend to those customers be
low.'
The respectful manner in which he was
obeyed, made me at onco aware that be was
the proprietor, and I was a little surprised
at what followed.
How many yards did you want, madam?'
Her astonishment was amusing—
can't take it sir.'
am not talking about that,' with a smile
Ujust answer my question.' •
He cut off more than she falteringly men
tioned and while he was packing it up she
found voice to tell him that ill health had
forced her to ielinquieh the work with which
ahehad obtained a support for • herself end
two rfithetleas Pet , the; oldest
girl--barely seventeepwas going to teach
in a week ,end she needed a dress to. make
-her presentable..,
' He made no reply, taking in . silence the
little bill- she' .offered--the very last of a
'email boird, and from' his own ilsorttnonnaie
added a greeribaek, the amount - of • which I
.optil not see, slipped both between the cord
heart stria
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY MORNING; MAY 31, 1867.
which bound the parcel and handed the lat
ter to her with.—
'There tell your daughter a strange! wish
es her auccees,'
He walked away hastily to avoid ber tear
ful thanks, and the little woman looked as
she turned to depart like one in a dream.
I t was a simple act, unobtrusively, quiet
ly done; and not a week before that same
gentlemanhad been pronounced uncharitable,
because his same would not be put down to
swell the list for aid towards some mission
ary scheme.
life may -withheddi-l-haenes_ektnce -from a
popular enterprise that promulgite his name
to the/world, but for true unostentations
ohariety, (I've learned - this was not the
_only - _ - -case)-he-is—l-th ought-then-a ad—thin-k
-now—cif 'Nature's Noblemen•'
Dearly I should like to give his name but
it would seem like desecration to draw aside
the veil from such noble goodness. So let
him in secret dispense his charity while
angels praise, and-surely God-will-reward.
An Earnest Radical Letter
The following letter from Gen. Brisbin, of
'the U. S. A., to a citizen of this place, has
een--luitad-ed-us-firr-pu - blieation; — %
commend the spirit in which it is written:—
Sunbury Gazette.
LEXINGTON, KY.. April sth 1867.
MY DEAR SIR: --Your letter of the 10th
of March is received, . and as I am always
glad to here from my native State, I thank
you for sending me a word of cheer. You
seem surprised that I can speak out so plain
ly and still live here; but you will be still
more surprised when I tell you that there
are many people here who believe in my doe
trines,-and that a radical--party-is - growing
up-whit h=before , a-_ , year , wil weep,the-S tate.-
I
owe,my personal safety however, mainly to
the fact that I am a good shot anti perfectly
willing to shoot I thank God that the
rein of mobs and Bowie knives is nearly.
over, and ft 7 ee. speech will soon prevail
throughout the South. I, for one, shall strive
for the right u ntil the right prevails, and
while I live here I shall speak and do just as
Pwould-in-Penney- Iva nia-and—w h en —I--:can!
_do that-it is time to-fight-again.-T-his--aoun
try must now be free, and human rights 4 free
press, and freo speech prevail from the coast
of Maine to the Gulf of Mexico.
Nothing is to be gained by concealing the
truth; the people love a - bold man, and will
even pardon a mistake now and then if they
know_he--w-ho-imakes it_is an honest_man. , --
If politicians knew how much the people
read, how well they 'understand, how honest
they are, and how they hate and despise a
demagogue and political trimmer, men would
teach what they pretend to believe. The
day of demagogism has gone by forever;
the people think and act for themselves,-and
they will demand and compel their represen•
tatives to be truthful and honest men.—
Sonic men there are who waft about with
every political wind that blows; they
never have a party or principal but ate
always hanging on to some- party—
Sound them, and you find them poor, weak,
vacilating devils, shuffling about, agreeing
with everybody, and afraid to say their souls
are their own. Like limper eels you can
toll them up from the nape of their necks to
the heels of their boots and not find a bone
in them, The trembling politicians of Con
necticut rejected the suffrage Resolution in
their Convention, and the people rejected
them. Good! It will learn them to be just
and honest next time 'When representa
tives will not be true to their doctrines and
obey the wishes of their people, the people
must stand from under and let such demo
gogues fall. We want men who have tongue
enough to tell what they believe and cour
age enough to practice what they tell. Such
men the people will honor and trust, while
they will hate, despise and defeat political
tricksters and trimmers.
Ynura troth •
JAMES S. BRISBIN, U. S. A.
A N. BRICE, late U. S. A., Sunbury, Pa.
WE DO FADE ASA LEAF.—As the trials of
life thicken, and the dreams of — oth — er days
fade, one by one, in the deep vista of disap
pointed hope, the heart grows weary of the
strugg!e and we begin to realize our insignifi
cance. Those who have climbed to the pin.
nacre of fame, or revel in luxury and wealth,
go to the 'grave at last with the poor mendi
cant who begs pennies by e tbe wayside, and
like him are soon. forgotten. Generation, af
ter generation, says an eloquent modern wri•
ter, have felt as we feel, and their fellows
were as active in life as ours are now. They
passed away as vapor, while nature wore the
same aspect of beauty as when her Creator
commanded her to be. And so likewise shall
it be when we are gone. The heavens will
be as bright over our graves as they are now
around our' path; the world Will have the
same attraction for offspring yet unborn,
that she had once for ourselves, and she has
now for our children. Yet a little while,
and all this will have happened! Days will
continue t o move on, and laughter and
song will be heard in the very chamber in
which we died; and the eye that mourned
for us will be dried and will glisten with joy;
and even our children will cease to think of
us, and will not remember to lisp our name.
'ls anybody waitiog on yon miss?' said• a
polite dry goods clerk to a young girl from
the country: . 'Yes, sir,' said the blushing
damsel, 't h a t's my fellow outside. Ue
'wouldn't come io.'
. •
A Wisconsin paPer tells the story of a man
wbo eloped with another's wife, but on go
ing to the hotel breakfast table, in Chicago,
where such coogeoialapirits most do congre
gate, and was filled with consternation at see
ingl his own wife:with ,the , loan Whose ; do
mestic peace be thought lathed wrecked for
ever. After consultation, each escorted his
own . lawful wife back to his donated 'hearth.
stone. 4
Midnight Beene in Gen Grant'a
Camp.
The battle of Arbela was the eloquence of
daring on the part of the young Msdedonian.
That of Thermopylae a the eloquence of
patriotism on the part of Leonidas and his
fielots. The battle of Autterlits was the
eloquence of bravery on the part of the
young Corsican. The scone of Valley Forge
was the eloquence of faith on the part of
Washington. The scene after the battle of
the Wilderness combined all these elements,
and added the eloquence of silence.
The welLknown re, ultof thTitAlerce_eon
filet was adverse to the armmy of the United
States. General Lee had flung one wing of
his army between our force and the base of
eir-suppliesowhich-wcruld - rerpriTe - ariother
battle to regain them. Each division and
corps commander kcew this sad conditidn of
affairs. They were all summoned to a coun
cil of war, to be held at the headquarters at
one o'clock at night. They were the saddest
-steps-evertaken - by - that band of - devoted
hearts. Fifteen thou , and brave soldiers
dead or dying, or wounded, were lying on
the field hard by•
One after another entered, and after mak
• ‘'sless-sa-ltrte-silently - torrk - ttreirwea s.
Generals Schofield, Need, Burnside, Sickles,
Howard, and others, I belive, were there.—
Not a word was spoken. A full half hour
thus passed by. Their emotions were too
deep for utterance. Hope of millions hung
on the decision of that council.
At length General Grant asked each one
in succession if they had any advice to prof
fer. Each one answered with a sad pion•
osyllable, nol
The commander then wrote a few lines,
and handed the slip to General Mead, and he
retired. This_was_repeated_until all were-
gone, and the General was left alone. One
of the staff of a division commander, who was
sick . , was the last to retire, and he is author
ity for the above.
All were ignorant of each other's order.
They felt assured that - retreat had been di
rected. Any other alternative would have
been believed to be madness. lied they
known that the order had_beett_pivpn
van ce,i n stan Lan d_uttiversal- m uti ny—wettld
have been raised. That eloquent silence for
which he has ever been noted, war the key
to his success there.
The next morning each corps moved, and-
Gen. Lee, he perceived it, with
vehemence exeltiimed: "Our enemy have a
leader at last, and' our cause is lost!" He
had bid his officers the night before to let
their soldiers sleep long. But now he sees
the army whom he thought utterly defeated
moving round between him enclitic base of
his supplies.
tie hastened to begin retracing his course,
and confessed to an artilery officer of the
Confederate army that the doom of their
cause was sealed.
A Story for Swearers
A gentleman once hoard a laboring man
swear dreadfully in the preset ce of a number
of his companions. He told him it was a
cowardly thing to swear so in company, when
he, dared not to do it by himself. The man
said he was not afraid , to swear at any time
or any place.
give you ten dollars,' said tha gentle
man. 'lf you will go into th - e village church
yard, at twelve o'clock to-night, and swear
the same oaths which you have uttered here,
when you are alone with your God '
'Agreed ' said the man, 'tis an easy way
of earning ten dollars.'
'Well. yru come to me to-morrow, and
say you have done it, and the money is
yours'
The time passed on; midnight came.—
The man went to the graveyard. It was a
n i g ht of pitehy darkness. As he entered
the graveyard not a sound was heard; all
was still as death. Then the gentleman's
words 'alone with God,' came over him with
a wonderful power. The thought of the
wickedness lie had committed, and what he
bad come there to do, darted througYhis
mind like a flash of lightning. He trembled
at his folly,_ Afraid to take another step, he
fell an his knees, and instead of the dreadful
oaths he came to utter, the earnest cry went
up, 'God be mareiful to me as a sinner!'
The next day he went to the gentleman,
and thanked him for what •he had done, and
said be had resolved not to swear another
oath as long as he lived.—Harpers Weekly
The Best Inheritance
The'fbllowing paragraph we clip from one
of Henry Ward Beacher's recently published
sermons:
"Not money, not honor, not even a gobd
name is the. best inheritance of a child—
Far above all secular gifts is a parent's` good
name; but there are some good things that
are better than that; namely, those trans
missable moral qualities which put the soul,
from the first, under the dominion of the
higher instinct. From my mother I had a
legacy which 1 would not be able to thank
God enough for in this world, if I was to
live for long ages. ave you not reason to
1. 51
thank God that you rang from such par
ents as yours were? A d do you not know
that the nature which they handed down to
von was one that represehted, as it were, in
our journal, the point at which . they left
the confliot having gained victory upon vic
tory, that your warfare might be less and
your victories. easier? And that which you
have inherited of tendencies toward things
noble and true, and away from things selfish
and false, you may transmit with argumen
live power. - Here is a great lesson of life.—
A sharp old gentleman. traveling one West,
got beside his wife in ti crowded ear by le,
questing the young man . who sat beside • her
to "please watch that 'woman while ho wlni
into another ear, as she was likely to have
fits.'
admit no guest 'aro your; soul that the
watch-dog is sour bosom bath' att
A. Smile,
Oh, the strange witchery of a smile! Tell
me where is there a heart so stubborn or so
cold that it will not acknowlcidge the charm
of a smiler -I do not mean the fawning Smile
of flattery, the studied smile of !Worn, the
cutting smile of revenge, the bitter smile. of
selfish triumph, the frozen smile of haughty
pride, or the mocking smile of hidden sorrow;
but I mean that frank, truthful, soul-born
smile that bursts like a radiant sunbeam over
the countenance when one human soul seeks'
the sympathy and communion of another.-
-Hova_purely—bean-t iful-or,ez pre Bei ve—t 110,4,1
lent language! Words are but impotent
mockery in its presence! How all-potent its
powers! It bids-the drooping spirits rise and
_ .
Boar upon the pinions of its own reawakened
melody; drives " the lurking phantoms o f
doubt and jealousy from the Clouded mind,
sod fills it with the cheering light of hope,
and tells joy to sing again! Such a smile
blessed memory brings the now.__ lt rested_
on my pathway for one moment like heaven's
was
rays. The face from which it shone
was a very plain one, yet at that moment it
seemed an angel's. I never met another
smile like that. Memory's loveliest trees-
urea may a c e—that one smile must ever re
tain its heaven lighted beauty. Often when
I turn brain-weary with the ceaseless toil of
thought, or beart•sick of the world, its hol
low homilies, its soulless mockery, or longing
for one ray of youth, that one smile in all its
pure beauty . comes before me and bids me
"be reconciled to human nature." There is
character, too, in a smile. I care not what
may be the countenance-4et—me—see-its—nat---
ural smile, and I will tell you of the soul it
reveals or masks. Every kind, truthful smile,
is a ray lent us from the brightness of our
spirit home, -by which we_ may lighten the
dark places or dispel the clouds which arise
along the way of our fellow travelers. They
cost nothing, and I would that in this world
of weariness and mourning there might be
many more such smiles.
Ventilate your Children's Rooms.
Most parents, before retiring to rest, make
it ty-to-v isit-th e-slee pi ng-room-of-tfreir
ehtldren - Tli6y - driisli in - order To
that no danger is threatening their little ones.
But if they leave the room with closed win
dows and doors, they shut in as great an en
-emy-as - fire although his ravages may -not be
so readily detected. Poison is there, but
deadly. Morning after morning do many
children awake weary, fretful and oppressed.
"W,hat °malt mean!' "What can- it be?"
the mother cries. In despair she has recourse
to medicine The constitution becomes en
feebled, and the child gets worse. The
cause perhaps, is never traced to overcrowd
ed sleeping rooms without proper air, but it
is nevertheless the -right one An intelli
gent mother having acquainted herself` with
the principles of ventilation, will not• retire
to her own room for the night without hav
ing provided sufficiency of air for her child
ren, in the same manner that she provides
and regulates their nigh teovering, or any oth
er requisite for refreshing slumber. Some
times by judiciously lowering a 'window; and
at other times by leaving a door open, this
end may be attained. In many houses the
day and night nurseries communicates.--
W ben this is the ease, the window of the
farther roc= should be left open, and the
doors between the rooms left open. Even in
severe weather, young children can bear this
arrangement if they are not exposed to a di
rect draught.
Narrow Escape from the Grave.
A Washington correspondent of the Boa
ton Tranacripl tells the following story,
which makes huge drafts upon the reader's
credulity- 4 A gentleman of New Albany,
Floyd county, Indiana, a respectable and
perfectly credible man, now a clerk in Pen
sion Butean, Washington, was formerly a
soldier in company F 59th Indiana Volun
teers. In 1862 he was stationed at St. Lou
is. While stationed there he was taken
down with small pox, and apparently died;
placed in a conffin and immediately entomb
ed_ _As the soldier's tomb was rather tepid,
ly filled five other coffins were soon piled on
his. He lay there two and a half days, when
he became somewhat conscious and his first
feeling was , a suffocating sensation. His
screams alarmed the German sentinel guard
ing his tomb, who frightened, ran, dropping
his gun, which was discharged. The report
aroused Mr. M. still more to a sense of his
condition and awful location.. Ile redoubled
his screams bringing a rush of soldiers to the
tomb, who soon got him out and relieved him
from his terrible confinement- He' is eonfi
dent he should have suffocated in fifteen min
utes. He says that though never conscious
of his dreadful situation, his mind was al
ways active and his sensations . unspeakably
delightful seeming to float through scenes of
surpassing beauty, amid strains of delicious
music, such to use his own words-as he nev
er heard since. For obvious reasons be does
not wish his name to be published bat your
correspondent will vouch for his character.
TILE Witt OF THE DREINHARD.-4. die a
wretched sinner; and I leave to the world a
worthless reputation, a wicked example, and
a memory only fit to perish.
I leave to toy parents swots , and bitter
ness of soul all the daps of (heir lives.
I leave to nay brothers and sisters sbame,
and grief, and reproach of their acquaint
ances. .
I. leave to my wife a widowed and broken
heart, and a life of - lonely struggling, want
and suffering. _
I leave to my children a 'tainted' name, a
ruined position, a painful ignorance, and the
mortifying recollection of afather)" ,
,who, by.
his life diegraeed humanity, and ,11 is prem
ature death joined the greet c ompany of
tham,who are never to enter the kingdom of
GOd.
.
•• IV,hat is fashion? Dinner at witintght,
and ti I:ca,tiacho ill the ttkOrtliPg'.
Old Knaimattoka.
The following beautiful extract is , from a let:
ter of a woman in Washington to the N. Y.
Independent
saw a ple of knapsacks the other eve•
.
ning at the cottage on Fourth Street; kn.
sacks and haversacks- left behind for de"
keeping by the boys who went to the front
and never came back. The eloquence of
these worm oaten and mouldy bags cannot
be written. Here was a piece of stony bread
uneaten, the little paper of ogee; the smo
ked tin cup in which it had boiled so of
- ever the=h — asty fir = if br
iitt=l4l - sly fil 7 e - on .40 eve or Attie. -
There Was the letter, • sealed, airooted and
never sent, for the soldiers could not always
-gct-even-a-s tam p.=Here-was - a - letter - h - aff
written, ommeneed, 'Dear Wife. How I
want to see you. "Dear Mother, my time
is nearly ont! The rusty pen just as it was
laid 'down in the halt filled sheet by the gal
lant and loving land which hoped so soon to
finish it---Here was a - scrap of patrioticpoe
try, and inspired lyrics carefully copied on
sheets of paper tinted with red, white and
blue. Here were photographs of the favor.
ite Generals, and photographs of the dear
ones • t home. RPM were_letters_of_heart,_
breaking love, and loyality to duty, and ho
ly faith and cheer, written at home; and here
was the Testament given him by the one ho
loved best—his mother, soiled and worn.
For the American soldier, if he did not read
it, still hewn auy__his-Testamen-t--aa-a
talisman to save him from harm. Here were
tit ose mementoes of brave,living, loving lives
gone out. They never came .back. The
- mourners - artrome - do - not know where they
fell, or whether they were buried. To one
unfamiliar with the soldier's life these rel
ics might mean little. To me they mean all
?eve, all - suffering, all heroism. — I look on
them, and again seem to me the long lines of
marching men filo past, dust covered and
warm on their way to battle. I see the roads
of Virginia simmering in the white beat,liii
ed with exhausted men lying down to sleep
and to die, after the last defeat, here the cry
of the wounded, the moans of the dying, see
the half filled grave of 'the unburied dead.
_ _
9 dl _the_awffil_reAlity--_ of- -war - comes --back.
Peace walks amid the May time flowers, and
already our soldiers seem almost forgotten.
Days of war and deeds of valor ,seem like
dreams gone by."
Marriage Under Difficultied
Some time since a gentleman:called:on the
clerk of one of our neighboring (minty courts
to get a marriage license. It was given . him,
ind the circumstance passed from _ the mind
of the clerk until three weeks afterwards the
same gentleman called for another license,
bringing his fast to have it cancelled. Upon
being - questioned in regard to the farmer li
cense, he said he 'did not marry that gal be
cause she was too smart' for him; she wanted
to know how much money ho bad, what he
was going to do with it, , where he was going
to take her, &c, &c., and he had concluded
that it was best not to many a gal that knew
so much. The license for 'gal' No. 2 was
given, and he went off perfectly happy, but
returned the neat day for another license,
to be married to still a different lady. This
time he gave as a reason for not having us
ed the second limp that 'gal' No. 1 bad
heard of the second engagement and gone to
the priest and told him that she was engaged
to the gentleman, and forbid the performance
of the ceremony; 'but,' said ho, I've got her
this time; she don't even know that I am ac
quainted with this gal,and I'm going straight
home and get married before she has time to
know anything of it. If anything, however,
should happen to prevent this marriage, I'll
be back again to•morrow for another license,
for there are a whole field of gals after me.'
Bat be succeeded in his last effort and did
not return again. These facts were related
to us by the clerk of the court.Rich,trtond
Despatch.
Don't Take Newspapers
The man that don't take newspapers was
_in_ town_ the other day._ He brought his fam
ily in an ox wagon. He still believed that
Millard Filmore was Presidemt, and wanted
to know if the 'ffamschatkians' bad taken
Cuba, and if so,•where they had taken it.
He had sold Ma pork for six cents when he
might have got ten. One of his• boys went
to a blacksmith shop to be measured far a
pair of shoes, and another misstook the mar
ket house for a church. Lie hung his bat
on a meat hook an patiently waited one
hour for 'meeting' to begin. One of the
girls took a lot of seed onions to the post
office to trade off for a letter. She had a
baby which she carried in a 'sugar trough'
stooping occasionally to rock it on the side
walk; when it cried she filled its mouth with
a cotton handkercheif, and• sang 'Barbara
Allen.' The oLlest boy had sold two 'coon
skins' and was on a bast. When last seen
he had called for 'sody and water,' and stood
soaking gingerbread in it, and making' wry
faces. The shop keeper, mistaking Ms mean
ing had given him a mixture of salsoda and
water, and it tasted strongly of soap- But
he'd 'imam tell of sody water, acid was bound
to give it a fair trial, puke or no puke,' The
old man bad a tea kettle he,wanted 'fixed up'
and he carried it to the milliner shop. The
clerk thought the man was crazy, but notic
ing .the hole in the kettle, politely told hint
that Dreylusti& Worark could mend •it for
him. lle then" Ica an old, plow to thejew
eler's to have It lainted and sharpened.' We
told the fellow be ought. to read the papers,
but he would not listen to it Ho"
posed t o 'internal Improvements,' and he
-thought quake • was a wioked invention.
"If it.wasn't for hope the heart would
as tho old woman said when ahe
buried ,her seventh • husband—and looked
anxiously among the funeral crowd for anoth-
Cr.
„ .
There is no Death.
"There is no death. An angel . form
Walks o'er the earth with silent tree],
He bears our beat limed ones awayp,
And then we call them dead,”
Beautiful the thought contained within
those lines, "There is no death." Adtt
awe t to thibk t is earth is but a resting ,
place, ' epp g-stone to yonder shining
home of p e and happiness, a connecting
tie to bind us to a land where sorrow_ ;a -
ftiiifiltr - whrand oar" —"'
known, where grief and care will never en
ter. "There is no death." Nollife is but a
vast ocean, bearing us onward to realms im
mortal, where the spirit shall forever dwell
with its-God.
Like angels walking on silent waters, like
beautiful shadows stealing o'et the quiet
eafth, so float we mortals on the cloud waves
of life, which border on the shores of etern
ity. ' And though hard to part with_loved
and near ones, they are not "dead." No;
they have only gone before, to put on their
"robes of immortality."
. Hand in band with
that "angel form" they wander in a world of
eternal bliss and unfading bloom- They aro
not "dead." W: • but_laid-ther e eath
the green sod, to be bout upward on angel
wings.
"Room, gentle flowers, our loved ones m^ul.l past
to Heaven." •
How sweet a thought! Passing to fleas , .
•irrmgh a pathway of flowers, to bloom
brightly there before God's throne. Oh,
"there is no death!" Tie but a silent sleep
we take, ere we awake in glory to dwell with
gocl. - 0! -- may - we - all - rimprove — life's hours,
those hours laden with smiles and tears,
pleatirtres and cares, sunshine and storms,
that when the "angel form''---bids—us—come,
we may be prepared to enjoy the blessings of
a world where truly it , may ba said, "there
is no death."
"Reckon I couldn't drive a trade with ynn,
Squire," said a genuine specimen of the Yan
kee pedlar, as he iitiood at t'te door of a mer
chant is St. Louis.
"Lrookon you: calculato—_about
"you can't no ways."
"Wall; I guess you needn't get huffy l bout
it. Now, here's a dozen genooine razor
straps, mouth two dollars and a half; you may
hey' em for-two-dollars.." —
"I tell you I don't want any of your atrops,
so you may as well be going along."
"Wall, now, look here, Squire. I'll bet
you twenty-five dotars that if you' make me
an offer for them ere strops, we'll have a
trade yet."
"Done," said the merchant, and he staked
the money. Now," said he, chatiagly, "I'll
give you sixpence or the strops."
"They're your'n!" said the Yaekee ' as he
quietly pocketed the stokes. "But,"eontin
ued be, after a little reflection, and with a
buret of frankness. "I calculate a joke's a joke;
and if you don't want them strops I'll trade
back." The merchant looked brighter.—
You're not so bad a chap after said he.
"Here are you strops; give Me the money."
"There it is,"'said the Yankee, as he took
the strops and banded back the sixpence.—
"A trade is a trade, and a bet is a bet. The
next time you trade with that ere sixpence
don't buy razar-straps. -
AN Esuusti OPINION.—The last inaugu
ral of President Lincoln made a strong im
pression in England. The British Standard
speaks of it as "the most remarkable thing
of the sort ever pronounced by any President
of the United States from the first day until
now. * * * Its Alpha and its Omega
is Almighty God, the God of justice and the
Father of Mercies, who is working out the
purposed of his love. * * * It is invest
ed with a dignity and pathos which lift it
high above everything of the kind, whether
in the Old World or the New. * * The
whole thing puts us in the mind of :the best
men of the English Commonwealth; tl ere is
in fact much of the old prophet about it."
"Boss, I want twenty five cents," said a*
jour. printer recently to his employer. Twen
ty-five cents! how soon do you want it, Joriti?'
'Nest Tuesday week. As soon as that?. You
can't have it, I've told you so often that
when you are in want of so large a Bum of
money you must give me at least four weeks
notice.
A Main editor says a pumpkin in that
State grew so large that eight men could
stand around it; which statement was only e
qualed by that of the Hoosier who saw a
flock of pigeons fly so low that he could
shake a stick at them.
'What are yoti doing there, Jane?' -
'Why, pa, lam going to' dj e doll's dress
red.'
'Bat what have you got to dye it with?'
4 Be er." •
'Who on earth told you that beer would
dye red?'
Why, ma sai3 it was beer that made your
nose so red, and I thonaht—'
‘ll.ere,tSn:ian, take Ibis child,'
An old lady reading that well-known ciao.
teflon, ''fie tempers the wiod to the F born
lamb,' remarked that it, wasn't true, for alto
•had known great storms to happen just after
the sheep had been shorn.'
a
Qttilp, who has heretofore been liberal io
his views, now'believes there are two thineu
destined to be eternally lost—his umbrella
and the man who Flute it;
The people 'Who didn't draw the Opera
Howe all say now that they intended to give
a good deal of it away in charity it they bad
drawn it, It seems that Providence knew
'eta to well to trust. 'ant.
Bury your troubles.' but • finn't -liarAr a
rouod the grave-yard , eqnktrin t h is
ghosts to hatlut YoP,
is 1r 42,
NUMBER 47