Sy' Vcrii
V °LUNE XX
Pt3MITIC)49.3Cs.
TUB INEBRIATES GRAVE.
PUBLISHED HY BEQUEST OF A. G. T.]
Pause by this solitary grave far from the marble
white;
Within the church-yard corner lone, as if it shrank
from sight; •
No head-stone tells the passer-by the slumberer's
home or name,
But rankly grow the towering weeds to hide the
Inebriates shame,
some little hand with watchful care, his plucked
them from the grate
And placed a slender rose tree there, the chilling
storm to brave;
But little heeds the busy world, the grief of that
young heart,
Who wanders in his loneliness, far from the crowd-
et' mart
And blame him not, ye peerless ones, that oft he
comes to weep,
And youthful pastimes all forgoes, sad vigils here to
keep:
For "Father" Is !tt holy name, and here a father
, Iles
Oh, what a world of agony within those served
The sleeper was not always thus-
was fair
The Father's pride—the Mothers joy--the loved ono
of their care; '
And when in splendor firth came upon bright man
hood's stage,
ow g onous was t e .00: o le. no.spo a
its page,
But plonsuro, with a serpent's wiles, crept into Eden's
, oison'd with its touch--a sting was
The wine cup
in the flowers:
Till lost to honor, love and wealth, ho yielded to
_
And qus&d the deadly beverage—the god-like be
ing fell.
Wo for the young and trusting wife. whose garner'd
hopes are crush'd!
Wo for the helpless, bright-eyed boy, whose orphan
toar-•-drops gush'd
Wu .for the parents' broken hearts, when they the
cold sod press'd!
And--- IV° for the inebriates--in loathsomeness to
rest!
13tit deeper woes, aye, bans of heaven, will surely
find their way •
To him who deals the poison'd cup, a burning thirst
to allay.
Behold your deeds, ye gvilty ones, the ruin ye have
f Aud turn in penitence to God, heart-stricken and
afraid.
SUMNER HOURS.
BY MRS. F. M. CHESEIRO.'
In the air the sound of bird-notes;
On the breeze the breath of flowers;
O'er the sky the silver cloud floats
Thus steal on the Summers.
Daisies spring up in the meadow—
Sunshine on the water.gleams;
By the brook side droops the willow--
Now steal o'er us Summer dreams.
Swallows twitter,'mid LIM branch - es,
In the tree-tops' lofty bowels;
Softly o'er our waking,
Steal the dreamy Summer hours.
With the bird note and the blossom;
With the blush on sky 'awl flower;
With the deep, calm blue of ocean ,
Come the sunny Summer hours.
COMES with these the blest assurance,
Earnest of a better life;
Peace for us, and sweet deliverance
Prom the thralls of bloody strife.
Through the air g melOdious 'swelling,
Sweet with music's holy powir,
Freedom's joyous song is ringing'
In this glorious Summer hour.
b•' , * -41
fiti‘ingJoy to a Child.
•
Blesied be - thehand that prepares a pleas
ure for a child, for their is no saying when
and where it may again bloom forth. Does
not almost everybody remember some kind
hearted man who shoied him a kindness - in
the dulcet days of his childhood? The wri
ter of this recollects himself at this moment,
as a barefooted_lad, standing at the wooden
fence of a poor little garden in his native vil
lage, while with longing ayei he gazed on the
flowers which wore blooming there quietly
in the brightness of a Sunday morning. The
possessor came forth from his little cottage
ho was a wood-cutter by Int the
whole week in the woods. io
to the, garden to gather fli into
his coat ivberi-they won't •
the boy and bresiiing off, intiful
...
of his earnationO•4ltw4s a li rod
and white—he:gliv:it - it,td L ler the
giver nor thaz.roceiver..spo4 ,and
with•bottading - steps the-boy And
now berkitraliast-distattee from chat hotne; ,
afters° many events of ip many "years, the
feelinenftritittede.whieh agitated the breitst
of thit-Idy exiniesee itself on Viper. 'The
otarettiop hikelcittif_ineed. withered, het now
it MAO afriW,,,, • ::::„ ', --, - ; ; ' . .
Elnoolamkjii-the reason he doesL not get
marriedlOhif:lll'hOuse is not !arge enough
to contain the tioneeiluonees.
-in childhood he
The boys began to appreciate the fun, for
they telt that' they were d o ,, 'rig a good deed,
and individually experience that self-satis
faction and joy which alwa s result from
well-doing.
It was not a long or wearisome job for sev
im robust and healthy boys to saw, split and
pile up the_poor_widaw's half cord of wood,
and to shovel a good path, And when it
was done, so great was their pleasure and
satifaction that one of the boys who object
ed to work at first, proposed that they should
g,o to a neigh boring carpenter's shop—where
;plenty of shavings could be had for the carry
ing away—and each bring,an armful of kind
ling-wood. The proposition was readily ac
ceded to, and this done, they repaired to
their several homes, all of them more than
satisfied with the 'fun' of the evening. And
.next morning, when the weary widow return
ed from watching by, the sick-bed, and saw
.what was done, she was pleasantly surprised;
and afterwards. when a neighbor, who had,
unobserved, witnessed the labors of the boys,
told how it was, done, her fervent invocation
z---. God bless the boys," of — itself, it they
could but have heard it was an abundant re
ward for their .labors.
&V ENT INPLITENCEB.-It is the bubling
spring which flows 'gently, the little rivulet
which runs along day ;and night, by the
farm house, that is useful rather' than the
swollen flood or warring cataract. Niagara
excites our wonder, and we stand amazed at
the power and greatness - of :God, there, as he
pours it from the 'hollow of his hand) But
one -Niagara is enough for the -continent or
the world, the, samO world requires
thousands of silver fountains and gently.
flowing rivulets that water every farm, and
meadow and every garden, and tharshall fldw
on-every day 'and. night_with 'their., gentle,
quiet. beauty. -So, with, the sots ("four lives.
It is not
- by great deeds,: like those of the
mat:tyre,' that good is to be . done,lnirby the
daily and kfuiet . virtues a Christiantlw
temper, the good qualities of relatives and
friends: F• -
Be saw
• -by Saxe, is good and time : •
• ,
4.You have heard of.thepaske iny Jed'
Of tho +ripe'r iConimplo.4 - jo. grass;,,
v tat now yint must kpow
• ?flue's deadlioit'foo
Is a snake of ,a different class !
Alas!•
•
T'is tho viper that lurks-in the glass"
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 21, 1867.
THE BEST FUN
'Now, boys. I'll tam how we can have
some tun,' said Freddie 13—to his compan
ions, who had assembled on a beautiful moon
light evening fkr sliding; snowballing, and
fun generally.'
'Row?' 'Where?' What is it?' asked
several eager voices all at ones.
'I heard widow M—tell a man a little
while ago,' replied Freddie, 'that she would
go over and sit up with a sick child to-night.
She-acid-she-woulil hA nver_abaut_eight_er_
clock. Now, net soon as she is gone, let's go,
and' make a big snow man on her door step,
so thai when she comes back in the morning,
she cannot get into he house, without first
knocking him over.'
'Capital,' First-rate,' Mora,' shouted
some of the boys.
'See hero,' said Charlie N—, 'l'll tell
you the best fun.'
gain inquired several voices
'What
at once.
'Wait
a - wood s
' said Charlie. .'Who's got
have. have I,' 'And I.' answered
three of the boys. 'But what in the world
do you want a wood-saw for?'
'You shall see,' replied Charlie. 'lt is al
most eight o'clock now, so go and get yciur
saws. You, Freddie and Nathan, get each
an axe, and I will get a shovel. Let us all
be back here in fifteen minutes, and then I'll
show you the fun.
The boys separated to go on their several
errands, each wondering what the fun could
be, and what possible use, could 'ae made of
wood-sett - Cana 3 axes ituth - eirpley. - 11eit - Cliar=
lie was not only ti great favorite with theniall
at-also-areacknowledged=leader,and_the.y_
fully believed in him and his promise. Their
curiosity gave elasticity to their steps, and
they were soon assembled.
'Now,' said Charlie, '3lrs - ."3l.—is gone
for I met het when I was corning back,. so
lot's be off at once.'
'But what are yon going to do?' inquired
several impatient members of the party.
ou shall see direetl~r ,'_ repl~ = d the leader_
as they approached the humble residence of
hifsl4l
'Now, boys,' said Charlie, 'you see that
sile-of-w-ood, a man haala '
noon, and I heard Mrs. M tell -him
that unless she got some one to saw •it to•
night, she would have hardly anything to
make a fire of in the morning. Now, we can
saw and split that pile of wood just about as
easy as we could build a great snow man, and
when Mrs. M comes home from her
watching she will be full as much surprised
to find her wood sawed as she would to find
a snow man on her doorsteps; and a great
deal more pleasantly surprised, too. What
say you? Will you do it?'
Oae or two of the boys rather demurred
at first They didn't like to saw wood, they
said... But the majority were in favor of
Charley's project, so they finally joined in,
and went to work with a will.
go around to the back of the shed,'
said Charlie, 'and crawl through the window
and unfasten the door. Then we'll take turns
in sawing, .iplitting and carrying in the wood;
and I want to pile it up real nice,—and to
shovel all .the snow away from the door; and
a good:wide path, too, from the door to the
street—won't it be fun when she come home
and sees it.'
Ah, boys and girls, the best fun is always
found ; in doing something that is kind and
useful This is the deliberate opinion of a
gray-headed old - man;•butif you doubt it in
the least, just try it far yourselves and be
convinced. •
.116.31 Xiactioicoe;32:c3eorlt .tlastxtall - 5 0 ItTen-viresrortrocor.
A Fearful Picture.
At a certain town meeting in Pennsylva
nia, the question came up , whether
,any per
son should be licensed to sell rum. The
clergyman, the deacon and the physician,
strange as It may appear N all favored
One man only spoke against it-because of the
mischief it did. The question was, about to
be put, when all at once there arose from
one corner of the room a Miserable woman.
She . was thinly clad, and her appearance in
'eatPri. the utmost_=etcheaness,_and_that_
her mortal career was almost closed. After
a moment of silence, and all eyes •being fix
ed upon her, she stretched her attenuated
body to its utmost height, and then her long
arms to their greatest length and raising her
voice to a shrill pitch, she called upon all to
look upon her. 'Yes,' she said, 'look upon
me, and then hear me: All that the last
speaker has said relative to temperate drink
ing being the father of drunkenness, is true.
All drinking of alcoholic poison as a 'bever
age- in health, is excess, Look upon
You all know me, or once did. You till
know I was once the mistress of the best
farm in the town. You all know,—.too, I had
one of the best, the most devoted of hus
bands,. You all knossi I had fine, noble heart
ed, industrious boys. Where are they now?
Doctor where are they now? You all know.
You all know ttey lie in a row side by side,
in yonder church yard; all—every ono of
them filling a drunkard'S gravel They were
all taught to believe the temperate, drinket
,was safe, that excess alone ought to be avoid
ed, and they never acknowledged excess; they
quoted you and roTi and you—pointitl,; with
het' shred of a finger to the minister, doctor
-an d - -A eacon; ,- -;aaj- a uthori They=brough
themselves safa under such teachers; but I
saw the gradual change coniing over my
family and prospedts with dismay, horror and
disgrace. I felt we were .all to be overwhelm
ed in one common ruin. I tried to ward off
the blow. I tried to break the spell, the de
lusive spell, in which the idea of the benfits
of temperate drinking had involved my hus
bantl_aad_sonsl_begged,,-I-pra-yed--I;,ut_tho-
odds were against me.
_The_natnister said_the_
poison that was destroying ray husband and
boys was a good creature of God; the den. ,
IN-who-sits 4,14 • ,
took our farm to pay the rum bills, sold them
the poison; the doctor said a little was good,
and excess only ought to be avoided. My
poor husband and my poor boys fell into the
snare, and could not escape ; and one after a•
nother was conveyed to the sorrowful grave
of the drunkard. Now look at me again.—
You probably see me for the last time. My
sands are almost run. I :have dragged any
exhausted frame from my present home—
your poor-house—to warn you all! to warn
on deacon! to warn you false teacher of
God's wqrd!" And with her arms flung high
and her tall form stretched to its utmost, and
her voice raised to an unearthly pitch, she ex
claimed: f.I soon shall stand at the judge
ment-seat of God. I shall meet you there,
you false guides, and bear witness against
you all!'
The miserable woman vanished. A dead
silence prevaded the assembly; the minister,
deacon and physician, hung their heads, and
when the president of the meeting - put the
question. 'Shall any licenses be granted for
the sale of spirituous liquors?' the unanimous
response was—No! No!
An Anecdote of Sherman
A lady in Savanah. Georgia, writing a de
scription of the entry of General Sher.nan
into that city, relates the following inci
dent:
'Tired at last of watching, wo were seated
together in'the parlor, bare and yude_enough
after four years destitution, when a loud ring
at the bell started us once more into terror.
It could be no one but our enemy. What
did he want? Our silver perhaps, the little
gold we had left to keep the wolf away from
the door; or perhaps my father!— My lips
blanched as they formed, but did not daro,to
utter the word. But our affright was ten
fold increased when Ocn, Sherman was an
nounced. If he Tad sent we should have
feared; but coming himself, what was the
limit of our apprehensions! .The issue must
be met, and my father rose, nobly and firmly
facing whatever was to come, as the door o
pened and the enemy's great soldier, in full
uniform' , entered,. Without pausing for or
dinary formalities, he stepped to my father,
grasped and shook him warmly by the hand
asked kindly after his health,, and said he
was delighted to see him. Then suddenly
•referring to old memories he slapped him
.heartily on the back and said: 'What can I
do for you my old friend? , If there is any
thing you want, let me know.' feortld have
thrown my arms around his neck in Spite of
his disregard of etignettee, and I believe that
a tear came into my eyes and rolled down my
cheek. I know I felt too choked to speak
when my lather presented me to him, When
I saw that pleasant face; although I could,
read a fixed devotion to thity, I could see in
it a.plaiti refutation of all accusation of un-
Deoessary cruelty. From .that day to this,
Sherman has bad no
um.'.'
friend than I,
rebel though
A lIIMINN 'WoLF.—A foreign jortrrial
states that a man,.with the initinets ha:
bits of a wolf, has lately been' discovered - in
a pack - of wolves, in the kingdom of ' Oudi,
India. Wolves abound, that eonntry, and
children are' often carried . .iff 'by tlfem; and
the theory- hi this 'easels, that an infant 'was
darried off by tishewolfladepted and raised
_
ttmannooo, and now . proseots the appear=
Ace h human :wolf . _'The ereature htis been
caught,`elothed-and is now 1(44,11 a gentle"-
Min hying
-town 'set% eight hundred
miles West.of Calcutta. - Ha does not speak;
eats his food from the ground, and avoids
the gaze of the human eye. ' - • -
'I have the beat wife in: the Acor . lde: field
a long ,§uffdring huib - and: she atways . strikes
me with the soft cad of the broom."
The Released Traitor,
From the Independent.
Jefferson Davis ought to have been tried
tong ago. His prottacted detention in prison,
withdut a trial, justly brought reproach upon'
the Government. This reproach is now fearful
ly increased by his discharge on bail. It Was
hitherto supposed.that the Government, being.
either not ready or not willing to bring him
to trial, had no other alternative than to con
tinue him in custody. It now seems, how
ever, th,!t, the pr is ner_migat_tuay_e_be_enrk
leased at any time within the laSt two years,
if only the officers of the laws had bethought
themselves' of admitting him to bail. Can a
ny good reason; be assigned why he , • should
have been bailed a few days ago, rather than
a few Weeks ago, or a few months ago, or a
year and a hall ago? None: But he never
should have been bailed at—alll--Doci not
everybody know, that men charged with far
lasi heinous'erimes dre not admitted to bail?
Are small criminals to be denied the privi
'ego of bail, and great criminals to enjoy, it?
-If a man who robs a bank manse remain in
jail till his trial, shall a man who levies war
against the government, 'res s ote s r starves
prisoners, and slaughters half a million of his
fellowmen, he obsequiously invited to put
on a pifir of green kid gloves, take a titwhat
and cane, and step out of prison to receive
the congratulations of his friends? (Jur
sense' of justice revolts if such' a-proceeding.
We grant that AIL Davis should not have
been incarcerated for, an undue -term without
a..trial. No apology can be made for .the
Government's unusual and , unjust delay in
— iftrafgreny,
him to bail, like the commonest of culprits;
,is=touoclrery af justice -, - - -a-confusian_otmoral_
distinctitins—a national diSgrace. Nothing
in the punishment of Mr; Davis as a Slate
prisoner; thus : far; him to have ~been
guilty .01 any greater crime than picking a
_pocket, or eoniniiiiing assault. and battery.
To say that treason is a bailable offence is
next to saying that it is no offense at- all.
The greatest law-breaker of modern times
. • ,aka-thd-eviiized—world_b_y_his crimP4
the land_with mourning, darken's the nation's
history with his shadow, and yet the sum to
tal of his guilt is roundly estimated by the
thousand doll
man stands charged with connivance at the
murder of Abraham Lincoln. Has any oth
er man, so charged, been so bailed? Why
not release John 11. Surratt on similar terms?
As both men are charged with the same of
fense, and as neither has yet been brought
to trial, why should. not both be treated a
like? In view of all-the circumstances, we
have found it impossible to regard the release
of Mr. Davis as other than a hideous blun
der. We have no words adequate to express
our mingled regret, indignation and scorn at
the act. Some of the principle actors in it
are men whom we personally love and revere.
Of course they have acted from the noblest
and purest motives; they are incapable of ac=
ting from any other. But they have, nev
ertheless, lent t'icir countenance to a procee
ding which, in our judgment, is as great a
disgrace as has. fallen upon the nation since
the public dtunkeness of Andrew Johnson
on the day of his inauguration as Vice-Pres
ident.
Andrew Johnson, in February, 18G6, was
a professed Unionist, loud in his declarations
of opposition to treason, and profuse in his
promises to enforce the law against traitors.
In 1864 and 1866 Andrew Johnson was the
same in his professions of loyalty. Wo then
took him for what he was worth, lie pro
fessed to be right. Bid he was playing hypo
eritc--acting with a mask_en,_which he has
since thrown off, to show himself as complete
ly devoted to the interests of the men en
gaged in rebellion as they wore themselves
devoted to treason It is of these facts which
the American people have cause to complain.
In playing Union man at the start of the re
hellion, thus gaining the confidence of loyal
ists and scenting (heir favor, Andrew John
son has managed to do the causo of •the U
nion morn harm than any of the traitors who
led the Confederate armies, commanded Con
federate ships, or participated in confederate
conneils. As a traitor, when rebellion was
precipitated, Mr. Johnson would have, taken
his place with second-rate men like Bell,
Floyd, Humphrey. Marshall, Harris, and
others, who guzzled the whisky of the Con
federacy, and passed froni public View like
harlequins in a dissolving scene of a mein
drama. But the knave played hypocrite
from the beginning. Wo are not the only
Union men Andrew Johnscin has deceived,
nor aro we alone in changing our.commenda
tions to antilop:me. In 1866 we • approved
Andrew Johnson, because we believed him
to be 'a friend of the Union cause. In 1867
we denounced him; because we have the
proof positive contintially before' , our , oyes
that he is at heart.as bitterly opposed to that
,cause as Jeff.. Davis or Robert E. Lee,. ,Ip
.1866 the Copperhead press of the country
denounced Andre* . Johnson' beCatise it *as
Suspected that he would -be true to , his -pro.
fossions of loyalty. In 18(17 the Copperhead
leaders applaud him because they know he
is false to loyal men And the best friend of
traitors noin poiver:=l76;rristuPg
-•••- " - 2 •
In 1561; Philip 1, bent tho •yAmig Cenita
ble7tie Castile, to Rope, tip t enn„ ,, nvulate, Sos•
tus,Y, on liii.aclvanceulnt:.Ttinl. 3 *
'Are 4kere few ooh in, - Spain Ilia ye r
`king semis inn
said theloree Spaniard;llfhia !am
jolty had posamed Pio,least, idea that you
ivaagine,d merit lay in, a s , heard, he would
have,deputed a goat to you and a a getitTe-
'Do conlrekat ion vill Iliceahe to sing, trio
von flonsiti(criii'and'lV6'th - priatii),'' mid' a
themmaning
byt n t h , ;7. , •;,•k :
oilier° aro not so many in the. book," .re
sponded tho chorister.
'Tell, Clot) plccsh sing so many is- tare pc.'
The Harp in Heaven
If we desire to enter= Heaven, where our
Heavenly Father reigns with the angels, and
all good people who have gone before us, wo
must endeavor to follow His commandments,
that when wo come to die, we can trust Him
to take us to the celestial city, Where harps
of golden strings Will, be provided . for those
e t
who followed His t el:11/gs. , Says a lady
contributor flir'one f 'our exChanges:
One of the 'sty °test recollections of my
.zirlhood is a beta:tire:l re 41 , in • 'mother- on
sae Oectasion - inalle - urewhiln - nlyAreart - was
:welling with ehildish grief.. I, had just re-,
timed from the house of a very wealthy
•eighbor, who had kindly given the the - trie
sf their piano for a few hours every day, to
_ratify my extreme love for music,. • Our
6%p cottage home looked se,plain in contrast
with the ono Iliad just loft, and no piano
within its my head upon the la
de and gave vent td my over-towing 'heart.
felt grieved, and perhaps a ' little angry,
hat we were unable to .affordahe one thing I
• ost desired above all,others—a piano—and
-:apresSed My feelings to iny- Blether. Nev
r shalrl forget her sweet, gentle tone; as eh~
replied, 'Never mind daughter, if you
annot•have a piano on earth, you may have
: harp in Heaven.' Instantly the Whple our
ent ofmy . feelings yeti)" changed. t arthly
blisgs div:ndledl into itisignificanee, and the
harp in Heaven,' with its golden strings, bo
‘arne the object of my desire. ' I felt repro
ved for my repinings against the Providence
hat had placed me to an humble 'home; and
rein that moment the enjoyment of HeaVen
zoeure:lftit te RI. • •", : • • • • •
earth.. That beautiful reply has followed me
allAn . y_ifer_
l,ot_atiMr has gonebefore me,
like a guiditig.Atar, diet:Wits - a
Bove this tfansient life,rand opening to my
spirit's vision the glorious .scenes in _that
'land of life and light.' I have a 'piano on
earth' now, but its charm is gone.
no longer gladdens my heart as it once did,
for the ears that loved best to listen to its
sweet tones, are now. enraptured with the gramlbatnEm_les_of 11 CavOn. The with
!MI
gers that so.oftea touched its keys ninisweeP
the golden harp . •strings.' Oh, that 'harp. in
Heaven!' how my soul,longs for one breath
• • rieluncloly. As LioAdtp upon the
dear baby fingers in the cradle near_me, I
think it matters little whether my child be
rich or poor, whether her path be strewn
with thorns or flowers, if she may only have
a 'harp in heaven!'
Greeiy and Jeff Davis
We find the following letter in the Buffa
lo Express : •
The writer of this, a reader of Horace
Greeley's Tribune or more then twenty
years, has often during the war,brought to a
happy issue by the steadfast brave men of
the nation,- been annoyed almost past endu•
ranee by his erratic, irresolute, pusillanimous,
and frequently weak oourse.—Years ago ; his
Fourierite, bran brdad, and spirit rapping
theories tended to weaken the confidence of
the friends of the Tribune in his sanity, or,
to draw it more mildly, in his common sense.
Beyond any doubt the influence of that jour.
nal, aside from Greeley's V evince, has been
great far good; it has had generally 'a staff
of ,very able and sound editors.
When a man goes I:miller an other man, it
is generally supposed that he is the friend of
the man he' enters into bonds for.—No good
man goes bail for a bad man. There is no
denying this. Gfeely hes become ono of the
bondsmen for the wretch, Jeff. Davis, and
has done it in full view of Libby and Belle
Island, where hundreds of bravo and patriot
ic men suffered and died most miserable
deaths, under the monster's eyes, and with
all the horrible and dreadful memories of
Salisbury find Andorsonvillo fresh in mind.
Why has Greeley done this thine—Does be
look for the Democratic nomination for the
Presidency? It is said ' that his ambition
idea him this wily. — Men say this is his ac
tuating motive. One of Dorace's weaknesses
is a hankering for .political preferment. So
strong upon him has it been, so say many
who know him, that it has destroyed, what
little•common sense he had.
'Goon AncumENT.—Wc have listened to
many effective arguments in favor of total
abstinence, but we have never heard ono
more exhaustive than that of the honest Ger
man who was asked to speak at a total absti
nence meeting. After some hesitation he
arose'and said:
• 'I shall tell you how it vas: I put mine
'hand on my head, and there vas von pig pain.
Then I put mine hand on my pody, and there
vas ano'der. There vas very much pains ,in
all Owe pody. Then I put mine hand it
my pocket and there•vas noting. Now there
vas no more pain in mite bead. :The pain
payyd§ - ell tone away.. I put, mine
hiM,d iu my pocket' and there . vas btentitol
lets: So I shall stay ioit de TeMpiirance. Aside
from The moral 'prospect's of the eittestron, -- the
•Putchumf.'s leiperienice tells the whole sto
ty.
110 w TO GPX - AN' EbtfCATTON.---BOresay
tO'ineu; 'We want an education; but wo are
and - father is poor,- and we can't get
itrsla tro ai.eiroing to leain'a trade, or go in
to a store, or do something Now ; let
me day, ovary bey,that7wants an education,
if ho will be , nd his'foreele'it, he can get iust
as good mine as 'he Wan't.s. 'The' Way . 6-
pen: lild t ncatfoli dabs' not' deli e through 'a
cademies, bolleies and seniitiaries; eso '.are
helps: but it comes by studyand reading,and
comparing, and all the schools, and' colleges,
and seminaries is the world - will riot make a
scholar of a man' 'Within:it thasei and with
them a man will be goo_ if he never - sees 'a
college, Ant? wbat,ts true of tbPY 3 is true
of girlg; and what,idl true of this pursuit , is
.trife,of any, other: tent) mist be from
yourself, and youmustAciolopi s
t. is - thitt
indomitable .1 ran i ' that seta a wan .astride
the worU. •
162.00 ±'or Voirtv
A Curious Tale
The Worchester Transcript publishes a
story, the scene of which is laid in that town.
In substance, that , a party of students had
fixed upon a Ceftdill night when a subject'
was to be procured for, them for , dissection.
arrangements were completed, the (sub.
ject procured, and the - party Were in itigh' '
glee. A young gentleman,the gravEst among
them,, had already taken the scalpel, and rais•
ing a corner of the sheet, looked for the first
time it On the lifeless fotm of the
lie fitkrieireely — dotierio, — siften fiCtit te te
wild piercing shriek; and fell senseless itpott
the floor, That swoon had well nigh proved
fatal. During the interval_of_aa_hour,he
was partially recovered bY'his terrified cent
panions, but as often did his eyes wander to
the table with a ghastly stare, as if some hor
rid phantom was there, and as, often, too,
With a thrilling groiii), he s:nk back in
setisible: At length, by Variods restoratives,
lie was recovered more .dead than alive:--
A few broken sentences explained the cause
of this sudden denouement. They scanned
the delicate form of their recent subject, with
• Inirrmantiffrmg
ness of an a . ppatently voluptuous sleep aeein
ed to be altnost warming it int& = . Nor
did they wonder at • the intense anguish - of
their companion, for they gazed upon form
of his 13ETROTIIED '
THE ,LAST. TlME.—There, will be, dear
reader. a lasi time 'to WI with all things earth-
Is--a last time to speak of the goodness of
Ood, and. urging sinners to. ,this fountain of
A last time we shill have of speaking to a
beleveirlirotlier or sister; or kind failie#
Sher, it may - be, -- wk
the blessedness of religion.
A last time the Sabbath school teacher will
have of appearing before his elais.
A last prayer the Christiou will offer, a
last hymn of praise he will sing.
There will be, too, to the sinner a lag time
--a last time of' attending the prayer-meet
ing, a last prayer he will hear offered for his
qlvatir t "' last Sabbath
salvation!. A last sermon, a
that will ever dawn upon him.
There is to be, there must be a last - time to
all these privileges which we now enjoy.
Do we rightly consider these blessiugs?-:
The present is ours; it may be our last. Lea
us wisely improve each day and moment, as
though' indeed it were our last, then shall we
be prepared for the unktiown fUture.
Humanity
We clip the following-from one of our ex
changes: It will well repay perusual: 'All
striving, pushing, grasping after wealth.,
honor and po.s or. The poor claiming weal* .
only that they may be above want, ttie ttlah
seeking to add thousands to their toillititis.
So we move. Not one appears to think' how
soon he must oink into oblivion—that, we
aro one generation of millions. Yet such is
the fact. Time and Progress have' thiongh
eon:Alessi - ages come marching hand in band
—the one destroying, the other building up.
They seem to create little or go motion, and
the work of dust rnctiou is as easily and silent
ly accomplished as a child will pull to pieces
a rose. Yet such is the fate! A hundred
years hence, and much "of that we now see
around us, will too pass away: It is but the
simple repetition
.of life's story; we aro
born—we live—we die—and hence wo will
not grieve over those venerable files finding
tbo common level of their prototypes in na
ture—an ultimate death.
We all within our graves shall sleep,
A hundred years to c ,me,
No living soul ter us will weep
A hundred years to come;
But other men out lands wiil till,
And others then our streets will fill,
And other birds will sing as gay,
And bright the sunshine as to-day,
A hundred years to come,
A writer in one of our medical journals
inquires why it.is that women aro more like
ly to take Cold than men. Indeed, we don't
know, but Dr. Hall says , the only way to a
void taking cold under certain circumstances
is to keep the mouth shut.
was asked by his SUnday School
teaoher, why the Isrealitcs -made a golden
oal,. Quick as a wink he popped out tho an
swer, guess it Witabeca two they hadn't gold
enough to make a bull with, ma'am.
An amusing story, is now ping the rounds
of a well-known Boston clergyman, Who,
though most entimabte'man'hae lesaregtird
for appearances than most of his brethep.—
Not :long ago, the gerriaLlanmerous, conscious
of the rectitude, of,his,intentions, Rent into
te bor-room of the Tremont:House and, or
dered a "mai Reit. By' Some mistake" he appro
priated the,.glass of an individual near him
whose convenation‘and appeiaranceStemped
him as whit-Artemas Ward 'would have call
ed-a4carnal Lookinefieriely atr the
-minister, ke eselaimed, with
dreadful oath,.
'Thalial my horn yen drank.
' my friend,' replied the reverend mon
itor, ‘docts•not the Scripture - say •the horn,
of the unged,ly, man shall be put down.!
It Was a rQparteo worthy, of Sydney, Smith,
and being . delivered with the dignity befit
tinA"tbe solemnity of 'the occasion -- ; - produce
:a - marked iippression:
• •
man e •
LtEntrntrrfON :-- Xi) eater sacrificed
his "sense ot riiiht to lust of pleasure, money,
power or fame, but We swift feet of 'justice
overtook him. Sini.held lier „austere court
within his soul, condgeted the trial, passed
sentence and perfornait the. execution. It
was done with 'closeiglioril' nobody saw it,
only that unsluml.erirg eye, and that man's
heart. Nay, perhaps- the- man himself felt
it not,' but only 'Shrank and shriielle4, -and
grew less and,less, ono day to fall, with ham=
boring crash a ruin to the ground.
NUMBER 50
0 : flows - no — lO yo