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VOLUME XXI. . - '_ „_ _ . _.. ~. _-
- WAYNESBORO' - FRANKLIN CO UNTY, PENNSIILYAttiI' - ,FRIDAY MORNING, AUGUST 111. 1867.-.-;---------. ~.- .
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It SUBLIME LESSON.
A lesson in itself sublime;
A lesson worth_enehrining,
To this. 'I take no note of time,
Byre when the sun is shining.' '
Motto-words a dial bore.
--.- 7 -And-wisilom-nevepreach •
lohuman hearts a better lore
Than this short sentence teaches;
s life is sometimes bright and fair,
And sometimes dark and lonely,
Let us not forget its pain and care,
And note its bright hours only.
"here is no grave on earth's broad chart
3ut has some bird to cheer it;
oope sings on in-every_heart,....._
Uthough we may not hear it;
And it to-day the heavy wing
Of Sorrow is oppressing,
Perchince to-morrow's sun will bring
The weary heart a blessing.
life is sometimes bright and fair,
times illikand lonely;
•t's forget its toil and care,
EMZLECI
~dirkest shadows_of_the_night--
Ade last before morning;
'hen let tie wait the coming light,
All,Fodeless phantoms scorning;
rid While we're ptissing on the tide
t-Time!s-fast ebbing river,
,:t'sCplack the blossoms by its side
And bless the gracious Giver;
Atilife is sometimes bright and fair,
And sometimes dark and lonely,
'e
-should forget its pain-and eare,
'4aLnotelts_oright hours only,
BRIGHTLY BEANS THE SEG i : ' 1
Q, brightly beams the summer sky,
(And rarely blooms the clover;
But the little pond will soon be dry—
The summer soon be over.
• , light and soft the west wind blows,
" '• a flcwerobellegent lg . ringing,
;at ligL. will fall upon the rose,
Where now the bee is swinging!
smile is on, the silver stream—
A blush is on the flowers;
ut the cloud that wears a golden gleam
Will waste itself in showers!
0, little hearts with gladness rife,
Among - the wavy grasses!—
A. deeper shade will fold our life
Than•o'er the meadow passes!
maiden lips! 0, lips of bbom!
Unburdened save by singing!
de grief shall leave his seal of gloom
Where kisses now are clinging!
, hope is sweet! 0, youth is near!
And love is sweeter, nearer!
, Weis sweet, and life is dear,
But death is often dearer!.
, shield the little hearts from wrong,
While childhood's laugh is wringing!
td kiss the lips that sing the song,
Before they cease their singing!
n, crown with joy the brows of youth,
Before those brows are older!
0, touch with love the lips of truth,
Before they cease their singing!
For the little pool will soon be dry—
The summer soon be over;
—Thciugh_brigh_tly beams the summer sky,
Mrd'rarely blooms the clover!
IVICISSCMX,st.sALMO . 'I2".
AN OLD STORY
yiKrin years ago a celebrated Italian artist
' , talking along the streets of his native
, perplexed and desponding in colise
um of some irritating circumstance - or
ifortline, when he beheld a little boy of
nab surprising and surpassing beauty that 1
ó forgot his own trouble and gloom in look,
ng upon the almost angel face before him.
'That face I. mast have,' said the artist,
or my studio. Will you come to my room
nd sit for a picture my little, man?'
`. The little boy was glad to go and see the 1
ictures and pencils and curious things in
he artist's room; and he was still more
'leased when he saw what seemed to be an
.ther boy looking just like himself smiling
torn the artist's convas,
The artistytook great pleasure in looking
I that sweet face. le.ri )he was troubled,
'iritated, or perplexedifted his eyes to
• t lovely image on the wall, and its beauti
al features and expression calmed his heart
- nil 'made him happy again. Many a visitor
:his studio wished to purchase that lovely
s'' but, though poor, and often in want
looney to buy food and clothes, he would
at sell his good angel, as he called this per
trait.
So the years wont on. - Oftentimes as he
jlooked up to the face on the glowing can Alas.
Ma wondered what had become of that .boy.
I should like to see how he looks
-yonder if I should know him ? Is
man and true, or wicked and aban-
Or has he died and gone to a bet-
the artist was strolling down one
walks of the city, when ho bekeld
se face and mien were so -vicious,
d, so almost fiendlike, that he in
stopped and gazed at him.
oars on
What a speotaole ! I should like to paint
that figure, and hang it in my studio opposite
the angel-boy,' said the artist to himself:
The young man asked the . painter for mon
ey, for he was a beggar as well as a thief.
"Come to my room and let me paint your
portrait and I will give you all you ask,' said
the artist.
The young man followed the painter, and
sat 'for a sketch- When it was finished, and
be had received a few coins for his trouble,
he turned to g o; but his eye rested upon
the picture-of-the-boy f helooked-at-it u turned
pale and then burst into tears.
. 'What troubles you, young man ?' said the
painter. It was long before the young man
could_speak_;_he-sobbed aloud, and_seeMeil_
pierced with agony.
At last he pointed up to the picture on the
wall, and in broken tones which seemed to
comb' from a broken heart, said :
'Twenty years ago you asked me to sit for
-pieture r and-41mt-an gel-face-is-th e_portmit-
Beheld me now, a ruined man; so bloated,
so hideous, that women and children turn
away their faces from me;-so-fiend-like-that
you want my picture to show how ugly a man
could look." Ali? I see now what-Nice-and
crime have done for me.' -,
The artist was amazbd. He could scarce
ly believe his own eyes and ears,
'How did this happen ?" he asked.
The young man told his sad and dreadful
story; how, being an only eon and very beau
tiful, his parents petted and spoiled him;
how he went with bad boys, and learned all
• .ad-habits-and_vicos and name to lo_v_e_
them ;• how, having plenty_ of money, he was
enticed to wicked places till all was lost, acrd
then, unable to work and ashamed to beg, he
began to steal, and was caught and impris
oned with the 'worst criminals ; came out
Still more depraved to commit /Worse crimes
than before; how every bad deed he perform
ed-seemed-to drive him to commit -a-worse
one, till it seemed to him that he could not
stop till brought to the gallows
It Was a fearful tale, and brought tears in
to-the artist's eyes. He besought the-young-
man to stop, o i ere
i_his best io save him
late. Disease contracted by dissipation, soon
prostrated the young man an' e le. 'e ore
he could reform• The painter hung his por
trait opposite that of the beautiful boy; and
when visitors asked him why he allowed
such a hideous looking face to be there, he
told them the story saying as he closed,
"Between the angel and the demon there is
only twenty years of vice.'
The lesson of his tale is in the tale itself.
Yon who road it can tell what it is. Think
of it often, an heed it arwa:ys.
— L - i rre 0-1
It remains just as he loft it to pass to the
White House of the nation's capital—a mod
est, brown two-story frame dwelling. No
carpenter's chisel nor painter's brush has yet
committed sacrilege in an .attempt to change
its style or improve its appearance; and may ,
they never touch it, except to preserve it as
it is, so that coming generations may see
where and how the great man lived at home..
A creeping vine, gradually covering the one
side of the house,as the nation olings to him;
a climbing rose,. emboweringthe door, sheds
its fragrance around the entrance, sweet like
his memory; and a lonely elm in front, said
to have beep planted by his own hands, bends
its boughs like a weeping willow, as if it too
would sorrow for the dead.
Henceforth, for all time to come, while
America has a history, 'Washington and Lin
coln will be loved, honored and worshiped
together, and Oak Ridge will divide with
Mt. Vernon the patriot's tribute of a tear.
A short distance from the entry of the cem
_etery_ we turned from
_tho_ main walk and
drive, and following a pathway worn by
pilgrim feet up a little knoll to its top, wo
stood by t'3e place where they have laid him.
I am ashamed. to confess our surprise and
mortification at the character of thlt to
It is nothing but a •sodded mound with a
brick front, ill-proportioned, ugly and cheap,
neither rich nor plain, with a vain attempt at
ornamenting in the way of two marble vases
Perched at the ends of the wall. The arched
door is sealed with a marble slab bearing the
name, LINCOLN. And that is epitaph
enough.
What was our astonishment to find lying
against the marble doorway a large painted
notice—ss 00 FINE TO WRITE UPON OR DIS
FIGURE TIIIS TOMB!' Who would have
thought that such a hallowed place would
not be held as sacred as the ark of the cove
nant, which no man dared touch? But no;
there are those to whom nothing is too holy,
and who delight in their shame, if it but
gives them publicity.
COUNSELS TO • YOUTH.—Let youth e'er
remember that the journey of life presents
but few if any obstacles in its 'path which
faith and perseverence will not overcoite.
No talents, however great, will be much Ira
lue to the owner without careful usiTs;
many a youth has failed of being any One
& tgp himself or others, solely because 'he
made no efforts to improve the talents 6-od
i i i
has given him, and others have ruined th m
selves by too great efforts; while a third c ss
posses'aing talents that might haVe ena ed
them to become a blessing to others, live
turned their course downward, and by ink
ing, smoking, gambling, liccutiousne- .or
self-abuse, have sur.k in everlasting 'gi l t-.
Youth remember that it is in your po .. r to
_._.long to either of these classes, a on
yourself rest happiness or misery cense cent
on your decision.
In Carroll township, 111., the other
daughter, of Tho Outhrie,'while
accidentally stepped upon a Newfou
dog lying under the :able, when the
seized the girl and tore her in a fear!'
nor. Help had to be called from th
and the Vote. killed, at the last aeoeu
young woman's life was despaired of,
p triad
But - alas !it was too
h a
ioe
EA
imttl
man
field
s tii a
DEAD BROKE,
BY THE "FAT CONTRIBUTOR."
We found a man seated on a curb-stone,
near the Postoffice. last night, muttering to
himself apparently, as there was no one else
to mutter to. We felt . constrained to ask
him what he was doing there ?
'llain't doin' nothin',' was the reply.
'Where do you belong i'
'Don't b'long nowhere, and nowhere don't
b'long to me.'
'Who are you ?'
--Irm_Broke."
'Well, suppose you are broke, you've got
a name haven't you ? What is it'?"
tell ye I'm Broke—Dead Broke-that's
neotiLd thafainy mane. My fah:
F:s broke before me. If he hadn't been, I
:Idn't be Broke now—at least not so bad.
[y mother was a Peasly, but she wanted a
, . sband, and she got Broke—that's my dad
and Broke got me. I've been Broke ever
I .
For a few moments the unhappy D. Broke
uried his face in his hands, and seemed lost
a-the-most-doleful-reflections. Then, rui:
ng his head, he exclaimed bitterly :
'I wish I had been born a colt,'
'Why do you wish you had been born a
colt ?'
'Because a colt ain't broke until he is two
or three years old. I was broke the moment
I saw the light, and I never got over it. it
is hard to be broke so young."
'How did your parents come to call you
'Dead Broke?"
sP-, as soon as T WAN hnrn, some
thing seemed to tell me that I bad got to be
Broke all my life, unless I could get my
name changed by act of Legislature, and
that, you know, would_ be an impossibility."
'How an impossibility ??
'Are you such a blockhead as to suppose
that a man can get anything—thro - uTI --- t - h --- g e
- Legislature - when-Ite-is-Braker?i
'You are right. Go-on.'
'When the conviction forced itself upon
my infant brain, confused as it was by recent
experienceTth - arrinust be Broke all my life,
- I felt that there-was-net-hi ng-lef t•to-live -for,-
and lost all consciousness at once. (I have
found only part or it since.)'
'lle is deal, cm• my mo er, wringing ;
her hands
'Yes,' groaned my father, 'dead Broke !'
'I revived, alas ! bat Dead Broke became
my nama, and I have been dead -broke ever
'My name has been fatal to me all through
life. The smallest boy in school always broke
me in playing marbles. I broke more win
/Mira *ham otv 412 }MOO ban:
ways broke down at recitation.", and ha.' my
hea& broke every day by the schoolmaster.
--- NAFlrgn_ -- I—left-school I went to clerk it for a
broker. One day there was a heavy deficit
in the accounts. I was afraid he might think
that I had something to do with it—so I—,
I broke . They caught me though, and put
me in jail, burl broke out.'
'Out of jail l''
'No, d—n it, broke out with the small-
pox I'
'What did you do next ?' ,
'After the court had disposed of my case,
.I was allowed to go into the brokerage busi
ness again.'
'How was that?'
broke stone in the Penitentiary, dog on
it. After I got out, I broke everything. I
broke my promise, broke the Sabbath, and
broke the pledge.'
`Were you ever married ?'
'Yee (sighing deeply) matrimony broke me
up worse than anything else. My wife was
a regular ripper. She broke up my furni
ture and the dishes, nearly broke my back
with a flat-iron, and finally broke my heart.'
'By running away ?'
'No, indeed, by sticking to me.'
'You have had a hard time of it.'
'All owing to my name. But bad as I dis,
like it, it's mine ; I came by it . honestly.—
You wouldn't - think anybody else would want
to be in my place, would ye ? but there are
- thousands - of imposters all over the country
trying to pass themselves off for me.'
'ln what way ?'
'When they tell their creditors that they
are 'Dead Broke."
There was another pause, during which the
unhappy possossor of an unfortunate name
could bo heard to sob. At length he broke
out—
'lt will be a simple and fitting inscription
for my tombstone, though.'
. 'What?'
'DEAD
ENDURING INFLUENCE —Time, change,
absence, distance, break off no genuine rela
tions. The love which the interposition of
a continent or an ocean can dim, which the
separation Of years can alter, never was love.
I had a friend once, a woman, who was the
friend of my better nature—who taught me
inspiration, taught me the value of' thought,
made me believe the worth of life, Oh owed
me the joy of wor th and progress—one Whose
soul was so large, so deep, so generous, that
she reigned like a queen amorg the highest
intellects and hearts. She left the earth one
stormy night sixteen years ago, hut is as
near me to day as she was then. The life I
live, the thoughts I think, the arts I perform,
are colored by influence which came from
her mind to mine If sixteen years cannot
separate souls, why should sixteen hundred
years separate them? When our friends
leave us for another world they - are less with
us outwardly, but mote 'with u 4 inwardly.
We carry theta with us in our heart.
There is an old farmer in Northern Ohio,
who gets up at daylight, builds a fire, puts
on the tea-kettle, dusts the furniture, goes
to the stable and feeds the horses, then calls
up tho folks. Baring a taste for reading, he
goes to a room whore he keep's his books,
'builds a fire, sweeps.out, and read , ' till break
fast time. This is Ben Wac?e, Vice Presi
dent of the Uuitett States.
, A Friend in Need. , - -
Theliew York Sun has an editorial giving
some good advice to parlats—to give their
boys a good trade: That is 'the best 'friend
in need , editor knows of, as life wears
on, andOs# adds : 'Every day (we are told)
there ire instances of men slipping from
high rounds to the lowest one in the ladder
of wealth. Business men find themselves
eagulphod in the sea of financial embarrass
ment, from which they emerge with nothing
but their personal resources to depend upon
for a living. Clerks, salesman and others
find theinselves thrown out of employment,
with no prosneot of speedily obtaining places
which they are competent to fill; and with-no
ther-m4As-of obtaining a livolihood_ao •
many mcrt there are in this city to-day, some
# / hi. families de • Indent u ion them
for support, who bewail the mistake they
made of not learning useful trades in their
younger days! There are hundreds of them.
- There-are-men-who - lrave - seen - better days,
men ofedneation and business ability, who
envy thepechanie who has a sure aupport
or-himself-ard-his-family in his lean,'. • .
Parents make a great mistake when they im
pose upon the brain of their boy the task of
supporting him without preparing his hands
for emergencies;
'No Matter how favorable a boy's circum
stances may be, he should enter the battle of
life as every prudent general enters the battle
of armies—with a reliable reserve to.fall back
upon incase of disaster. Every man is liable
to be reduced to the lowest pecuniary point.
It is a kind of capital that defies the:storm of
financial reverse; that clings to a man when
all else has been swept away. It consoles him
in the hour of adversity with the assurance
that, let Whatever may befall him, he need
have no fear for the support of himself and
amily. Unfortunately, a silly notion, the off-
I spring of - a - sha.m aristocracy, has-of-late-years
led many parents to regard a trade as some
thing disreputable, with which their children
sho_uld_not_be_tainted._Labor disreputable I
What would the world be without it? It is
-the--very-poTar-that-ruoves —the_world. A_l
-power higher_than_the_throne of aristocracy
has enobled labor and he who would disparage
it must set i !me above theirlllY — e.princip e
'ln the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread'
A. trade is a 'friend in need;' it is indepen
dence and wealth—a rich legacy which the
poorest father may give to his son, an-d-w •
the richest should regard as more valuable
than gold.'
Fr...ao-Aurci - and Slavoxy.
One of the most forcible .and truthful de
scriptions of 'the irreprcesible conflict in
America between freedom and slavery is con
tained in A speech recently delivered by
John Bright at a dinner given to William
Lloyd Garrison in London. The distinguish
ed English orator' said: Spite of all that
persecution could do, opinion grew—in the
North in favor of freedom, but in the South
in favor of a most devilish delusion, that
slavery was a Divine institution. The mo
ment that idea took possession of the South,
war became inevitable. Neither fact, nor
argument, nor counsel, nor philosophy, nor
religion could, by any possibility, affect the
discussion of the question when once the
Church teachers of the South had fallen into
that snare, and had taught their people that
slavery was a Divine institution, because then
they began to cling to it on othei and differ
ent grounds, and said: 'Evil, be thou my
good.' d ' Thus we had light set against dark
in
ness, freedom against bondage, good against
evil, and if yon like it, heaven against hell;
and, unless -there was some stupendous mir
acle, greater than any on record even in the
inspired writings,it was impossible that war
should not spring out of this state of things.
Then, too, 'the political slaveholdcrs, that
dreadful brotherhood, in whom all turbulent
passions wore let loose, the 'moment they
found the Presidential elections of 1860
going adversely to them, took up—arms--to J
sustain their hateful - system, and then came
the earthquake which had been so often fore
told, so often menaced, and so often postponed,
and the ground reeled under the whole na
tion during the four years of agony, and then,'
at last, when the smoke of the battle-field
cleared away, the horrid shape which had
cast its shadow over a whole tiontinent had
vanished and was gone forever.
TrIE GIRLS TO Tiff: YOUNG MEN' —The
literary department of the ruka (Miss) .211ir
ro, is edited by four young ladies. Their
last number contains the following paragraph,
which exhorts The young man to 'depend on
himself:
Most young men consider it a misfortune
to be born poor, or not to have capital-enough
to establish themsel'cs at the outset of life
in a good and comfortable business. This is
a mistaken notion. So far from poverty be
ing a misfortune to them if we may judge
from what we daily behold, it is a. blessing;
the chances are moro than ten to one against
him who starts with fortune. Most rich
men's sons die in poverty, while many poor
men's sons come. to wealth anti honor. It is
a blessing, instead of a curse, to have to work
out their own fortune.
She wore a gothic waterfall, anti hoops like
the Silboy tent, and her back, oh! slavery, a
big chain clanked as ehe wont, She bought
the waterfall newly built, methinks we . can
see her yet, though we
,saNv_her- brit- tr
meat, with a big black chain of jet, She
wore for a hat a butter dish—as large as a
three•cent pie—and wo thought wo should
soon expire as her bit; chain rattled by. A
score ar.more of sillier doves held' her dress
from mud and rain, innocent birds were
frightened by the gutta percha chain. 014
fashion, mistress fashion, have pity yin Mary
Jane; we love thy tilt and saw-dust balVes,
but take back thyj , :tty chain.
A gooki-vord is al easily sliolzen as an ill
One.
Worth,. BetteiTitan sll,olr.
A.young oriental prince was visiting at the
castle of a duke in one of the finest counties
in England. He looked from the Window in
to the beautiful garden, and inhaled theffra
gram which was wafted towards him by the
gentle breath of June.,
'What exquisite perfume,' he cried;
me, I-pray you, the fierier. that so delights
my sense. See you yon stately stalk, bear
ing bearing on its shaft-those gorgeous lilies,
whose snowy petals are veined with blood-red
lines and with violet shade; that is undoubt
edly the plant I seek."
They brought him the curious lily of Af
rica.
is odor is nauseating,'_he_said4_ 4 but bring
me that flower of a hue eo• mach deeper and
lobar than even the beafitiful rosés of m
own air an.. See it g owe i• e ; atne
Surely a rich odor should distil from that re=
gal plant.' •
It-was-a-dahlia, and its-scent-was-even, less
agreeable than that of the lily.
'Can it be, than the large white bioesos,
area on yar►der the blue_eup•
on the neighboring shrub ?' be asked.
No, the snowball and the campanile proved
alike scentless. Various plants yielded their
odorless buds or broad-spreading petals for
inspection. But he cound not what he
sought.
. .
. 'Surely it must be that golden bait,' .he
said ;.'for so showy a bloom should at least
charm the nostril as welft - s:the -eye? :
'Eaugh It was a marigold.
At length the • .laced in his hand a wee
brown blossom.
'So unpretending a thing as this cannot
surely be that of which I seek,' ,exclaltned
the prince with a vexed air; 'this appears to
be nothing better-than a weed.'
He cautiously lifted it to his face.
'ls it possible ?' ho cried. 'ls it really this
unobtrusive-brown-weed-which-g*s-forth-Se-
I precious an odor? Why, it hangs over the
'
whole garden, and comes fanning in at toy
window like the very breath of health-and
purity. What is the name of this little dar
lin: ?'
'Precisely that, your highness,' answered
his attendant; 'this flower is called the 'naig
'ate, the little - clartine - '
'Wonderful I Wonderful repeated the as
tonished prince. placing it in his bosom.
'Thus your highness' perceives,' remarked
, vely, 'that the humble. and un
pretending often exhale the most precious
virtues.'—Little Pilgrim.
The Poor Printer
'II. pity, the poor printer," said fay - uncle
Toby. 4 , _ fie's a poor creature," rejoined
Trim. 'How so,' said my uncle. 'Becattee
in the first pine,' continued the corporal,
looking - fully upon my uncle, 'ho must en
deavor to please everybody. In the negli
gence of a moment, perhaps, a small para
graph pops upon him; he hastily throws it to
the compositor; it is inserted, and he is ruin
ed to all intents and purposes.' Too much
the case, Trim,' said my uncle with a deep
sigh. 'And pease your honor,' continued
Trim, elevating his voice and striking an im
ploring attitude, 'this is not all.' •G-o on
Trim,' said my uncle gleeingly.
'The printer sometimes hits upon a piece
that pleases him mightily, and he thinks it
cannot but go down with his subscribers.—
But alas! sir, tvho can calculate the human
mind? They forgive othere"but cannot for
give the printer. He has a host to print for,
and every one sets up for a critic. The pret
ty Miss exclaims, 'Why don't he give us
more poetry, nrtrrirges, and bon mots; away
with these stale pieces!'
'The policeman clasps his specs on his
nose and reads it in search of a violent in•
mace. Ho finds none, takes his specs off,
fulds them and sticks them in his pocket, de
claring the paper good for nothing but to
burn. So it goes. Every ono thinks it
ought_ta_be-printed - expressly himself, as
he is a subscriber. • And after all this com
plaining would you believe it, sir,' said the
corporal, clasping his hands beseechingly,
'would you, believe it, sir, there are some
subscribers who do not hesitate to cheat the
printer out of his pay?'
1=1:212
Said a very good old man; 'Some folks are
always complaining about the weather, but I
am very thankful when •I wake up in • the
morning to find any weather at all.' We
may smile at the simplicity of the old man.
but still his language indicates a spirit that
contributes much to a calm and peaceful
life, It is bettor and wiser to cultivate ,that
spirit than to be continually complaining of
things as they are. Be thankful for such
mercies as you have, and if God sees it will
be for yonr good and his glory, Ile will give
yon many more. At least, do not make
yourselves and others unhappy by your in
complaints.
I=l
An Irish hostler wn4 sent to the stable to
grin g out a traveler's horse., bat not knowing
which of the two strange horses in the stable
belonged to the traveler, and wishing toavoid
the appearance of ignorance in his business,
he saddled both animals, and brought them
to the door. The traveler pointed out hie
own horse, saving,
'That's my nag.'
'lVettuinly,yer honor, T. know that' very
suii l'at,Alut I did not know which
was the other r,oattentau's.
'riw F. POP:TRV.—The following beaulful
staint is copied from a lady's a:bum: '
' Fare made, when I II hold nro 1a,(3 •
pize into ure ashure
nay Imee avarine,l•inm a
4 -t fmnts within mr bozmn ri
2,big t,ir,ini wc-k ont,T 2 uttPr,
which lcm-e+ mi hal awl iu fhtt,r
The prCtiv.sf fks a bw„n•r. 1 4 a pro
tv fate
The Country Church
We clip 'the following ; bit, of "sentiment
from the Lockport Daily Union. It brings
olden memories back: ,
We have been to the country church ihat
was old when we were young. It is neither
costly nor grand, but rude, and homely, with
moss growing about the eaves, where a pair
*of swallows built their best in the summer
that is dead. There are no lofty marble pil
14is near the porch, or tessellated doors, nor
Ittieltekilful architecture; but there it stands,
tv,:„plain old building, a hallo Wed-relic-of-other
lys. It has no gallery, where the • hired
musicians let fall the liquid tones of sound.
Put still we like the old church. It briegs
bad to us_th_e_. "••• ••• i• Oggg g
joyous anticipation of the future, atLthe:
olden gleams orgladness:that hover around
-
the steps of youth. We hear echoing through
memory's corridor, the holy words falling
from the pale browed man whose guileless
teaching sank—deep—into—our--heart,---Wo
have listened since then to the sermons 01
the great, rhetorically rounded and brilliant
-metaphors,and-poetie imagery,and flights of
fancy; but their high-toned beauty has failed
to touch our hearts, as did - themituple ,elo
quence of the minister in the 'old church.
There, too, is the graveyard• where sleep
in dust the ashes of those who where so dear
to us in life, and whose memories come to us
with the rise of the sun, and_the_pal
_of stars. There rest the companions of our
schoolboy days, and our youthful sports.
And there, too, she lies who roamed hand in
hand with_o_ribout th_e valley, wh.) pluekeci
with us the wild flowers beside the brook;
who saw with the appreciative eye the vio
lets blooming on the robe of May, and wept
us . happy tears at the glory and gorgeousness
of summer sunsets. For eleven years she
hasTistened to the harp notes of angels.
Still we love to linger beside her grave near
-tirtfold-oltureh, and—fancy—that—the—mit
breath of the evening air is caused by the
soft rustling of an angel's wings. Do not
-Warne-us-tot-loving the - old - chareli,fft mem•
ories are oars, pure and holy as the drelLus
of a dying saint, when we sit in the "shado - w
of its walls.—Golden Rale.
Harrible-Disaster.
Over Otte llungred Men Buried Alive in a
Coal Mine
The columns of the European German
papers are ailed with the particulars of. the
greatest disaBtor that ever desolated any mi l
ning district.
.rk of a 150 feet Ou the first of July last the:node/dram,
wo
deep pit o n
f a coal line
in ,the neighborhood of Lugan, in 3rixony,
gave way, blocking up, with an itnponetrabl , a•
mass of timber and -rook,ko.pit at a debth
of about 300 ells from the top. At the mo
ment of the disaster 102 men, nearly all of
them the supporters of large lamilks, were
working it? the bottom of the .mine. Their
provisions were calculated for one. day. Oa .
the sth of July, the date of our latest news
by mall, the where the fallen masses
had stopped, the pit was such a solid struct
ure that water was standing on it many feet
high. 'From all sides the moat available
help was offered,- but the conviction that
nothing could be done soon enough to save
the unfortunate miners, weakened, as it seems
any energetic efforts.
They were doonied to die of starvation
and want of fresh air. Oa the 4th of July
all attempts to roach the bottom of the mine
by any quick process wore abandoned, and
a slow but sure plan was devised by which
at least the corpses of the perished °mild be
extracted : Iron tubes of about two feet in
diameter were to be sunk through the ob
struntions to the bottom of the pit. Among
the dead are forty-four married men, one of
whom had cwife and nine living children,
The scenes at the entrance of the pit are de.,"
scribed as lamentable without a parallel.—
One hundred and thirty-seven children filled
the air with their woeful cries, whilst the
superintendent of the mines, to whose neg/i
-°
r,
Taco the disaster was ascribed by the pee
ple' could only be saved from being mobbed
by his sudden ialprismment.
Ttri Tniiimrn Wfusg.v.—lt is cal
culated that at least 811,000,000 gallons of
whisky are annually manufacture in this
country. If only the tax on three-fourths of
it .were collected, the Government would
place our finances on a sound basis. Lass
year the Government would receive 837,000.-
000 on whisky. This year it will receive less
than 620,000,000. Fur the lost three month
it has been receiving only at the rate of
$10,000,000 a year from. this source-
Sctroor, ScENE-- 4 TIly, you scorn to be
altogether too smart 1.,r this school; can you
tell me how many six black beans are?' Yes
sir; hall a dozen.' 'Well, how many aro
half a dozen white beano?' 'Six.'Tre
mendous smart boy! Now tell me how .na.
ny white beans there are in six black ones?'
'Lla!f a dozen, if you akin 'ern!' In Collse,.
quence of this answer, the scholar came near
being skinned hhnself.
For scours In calves, pigs and sheep, a cor
respondent of tha Maine Furnicr takes a
quantity of good oats,
boils them oue hour,
and gives freely of the tea till a eureis effect
ed. From many trials, he is satisfied tllats
the, remedy is safe and certain.
New flax seed frequently given to horses
or cattle will make them abed their old hair,
and, whether young or old, soon get sleek
and fat. It is the only thing which will
fatten some old horses.
Five thousaud and ninety dogs have been
killed at the New York dog pond ,tho pres
ent B eason the city has paid $2,
A 11 eQ l, an"(l, nn hciur,.to! , l the other eve
nin th it hia wifr he‘i . tot-.lMr 'temper, said
•4t; 3.,171 , / of iT, u, it • tylit;',A, Very had
IreeLx. ,
MBEK 5
• -
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