13y "vviT.''"x3inil.r.. ti OLUMI XXI. 3Eirrl C I AL 1-1 " po r. i 41. p - Arc o - „ C a. • „ - , .t 1: • '"'• [oluaninj A CUP OP TEA* There's nothing like a cup of tea, to cheer ms' spir it., u And of that favorite bevetsge, I often freely sup, If fn sorrow is saddening chain, by earth born care op, A cap of tea is good for me, and of all draughts\lae This comf;nt innocent indeed, pray gentlemen do try-- Poreake the Ala-house, drink the tea, and cheerful be es I. hat? 's b- • ens life And terriers home your paradise, and gives peace to your Wife. False pleasure always (urns to pain, to theme, Elia. graco and sorrow, Repent today, make no delay, you're not sire of 0-marrow, I'ea I sit) will sadden, but • E'm sure 'twill brighten all your wits, And drive dull care, far, far away, aml lighten ma. 'You often hat of judgement and pique yourself at renson, You'll) blind to - ever} thing that's good and always oot of reaeon, For ho who will not guile himself, he cannot guide another, 'rake this advice, repent Ohl, then you'll rind a' W== •Thie-poem-was-taken -front-en old ltlB,-over vc yea re old.'lt Wits cennpTie - dtq a (Farb olio Lady, who resided in the City of Baltimore, but is now dend.—Path [ORIGINAL] WHERE IS THE CIRRI OF IIIOSICI INSCRIBED TO MOLLIE. W here! is the charm. ef Music, on the earth-= Where! vocal strains, and incense-rise - to ,Heav'n 'Where God eternal grants us sicond birth; Where sinners pray, and hope to ee forgiveft. That Yreathes,saft—vcspent-to-the God of tom Where is that soul who could with music part, Since Saints and Angels, chant in realms above Where is the charm of kfetsic, in the soul. 0, yes! for inmates. of that second He av'rt Ye dwell in spirits chaunting anthems role; In praise, in prayer, in eztacy thus given. Blest innocence! with Music ne'er compard, It raises thoughts divine, dispels dull care, A precious gift to us, who's offering small_--- To Him who gave by conquering, conquered all, THE MOTHER'S LAST GIFT. Thirty years ago there was seed to stiter the city of London a lad about fourteen years of age. He was dressed in a dark Crock that hid his under apparel, and which appeared to have been made for a person evidently taller than the wearer. His boots were cov ered with dust from the high road: He bad on an old hat with a black band, which con , treated strangely with the color of the cover ing b is-head. —A-small—bandleT-fastened to the end of a stick, and thrown over the shoulder was the whole of his equipment.-- As he approached the Mansion House, be paused to look at the building, and seated himself on the steps of one of th 3 doors.— He was about to rest awhile; but the eom ing in and going out or half-a-duten persons, before he had time to finish untying bis bun dle made him leave that spot for the next open space, whore the doors were in part closed. Having taker. from the bundle a large quantity of bread and cheese, which he seemed to eat with a ravenous appetite, he • amused himself by looking at the building be: fore him, with all the eager curiosity of one unaccustomed to. see similar objects. -- • Tho appearance of the youth soon attract ed my curiosity, and gently opening the door, I stool behind him without his being the least conscious of my presence. He now be- gan rumaging his pockets, and after a deal of trouble brought out a roll of paper, which . Opened. After satisfying hiteself that a urge doppdr Coin *As safe, he carefully put it bank again, saying to himself in a low voice, 'Mother, I will remember your last words 'A penny saved is twopence earned' It shall go hard with me before I part with you, old friend:' ,Pleased with his remark, I gently touched gm lad on the shoulder. lie started had was about to move away, when I said : 'My good' lad, you seem tired, and like wise a stranger in the city: -*Tea, sir,' be answered, putting his hand t f l . is hat. He was again about to move .rd. ''ten need not hurry away, my boy,' I • T 11 h 1 ' Indeed, if you area stranger, and I can, perhaps, help to find what yon require.` The boy stood mute with astonishment; and coloring to such an extent as to abaw all the freckles of a sunburnt face, stammered out:. 'Yes, sir.' wish to know,' I added, with all the kindness of manner I could assume, 'wheth er you ar e anxious to find work, for lam in want of a youth to assist my coachman. The poor boy twisted his bundle about, aid atter baying duly placed bis band to his head, managed to utter an awkward kind of en gnawer, that he would be very thankful, I mentioned not a word about what I had overheard with regard . to the penny, but in viting him , into the house, I sent for the coachman, to whose care I entrusted the new comer. - Nearly a month bad passed-after-tbis meet—l ing and conversation occurred, when I re solved to make some inquiries of the coach- 1 man regatding the conduct of the lad. (A—be tter_boy_never_eateeinto th a_firiuse i sir; and as for wasting anything, blest. me, sir, I know not where he bad been brought up, but 1 really-believe ho would consider it a sin if be did not give the crumbs of bread to the poor birds every morning.' 41---am—glad—tollear7such—a—geod—au—ae— °oust,' J replied. 'And us for his good nature, sir. there is not a servant Datong us that doesn't speak well,of Joseph. Ile reads to us while we .1 sir ; ho has got more learning than all of us put together ; and what's more, he doesn't mind work, and ho never talks about our se crets after he writes our letters.' Determined to seek Joseph myself I re quested the coachman ter send him to the pod conductl parlor. understand, Joseph that you can read and write,' gTes, sir; tlianka to my poor, dear moth er.' hat very day when you were ind enough to take me into your house, an unprotected orphan,' answered Joseph. 'Where did you go to school ?' 'Sir, my mother had been a widow ever since I can remember. She was a daughter of the village schoolmaster, and having to maintain me and herself with her needle, she .. •e = $ • ttre — nratile trr 'A month to teach the nut only to read and write, but _ ----- t 'And did she give you that penny, which tv‘§s in the paper_Lsaw_yo_u_unroll_ao_eare•L fully at the door Joseph stood amazed, but at length replied with emotion, ands tear started from his eye. 'tea, sir, it was the very last penny she • ave me. 'Well, Joseph, so satisfied am I with your conduct, that not only do I pay you a month's wages willingly for the time you have been here, but I must beg of you to fulfil the du ties of collecting clerk to our firm, which situation has become vacant by the death of • . . ' . Joseph thanked rue in the -most - uvassurn- - ing manner, and I was asked to take care of his money, since I had promised to provide him with suitable -elothing for his new °eau potion." It wall be unnecessary to relate how, step by step, this poor lad proceeded to win the confidence of myself and partner. The ac counts were always correct to a penny; and whenever his salary became due, be drew out of my hands no more than be absolutely wanted, even to a penny. At length he had saved a sufficient sum of money to be dopes• ' ited in the bank. It so happened' that one of our chief cus tomers, who carried on a suecesaful business, required an active partner. This person was of etcentric habits, and considerably ad vanced in years. Scrupulously just, he looked to every penny, and invariably dis charged hie workmen if they were not equal ly scrupulous in their dealings with him. •Aware of this peculiarity of temper, there was no person I could recommend but Joseph; and after overcoming the repugnance of my partner who was unwilling to be deprived of so valuable an assistant ; Joseph was duly re ceived into the firm of Richard Pairbrothers & Co. Prosperity attended Joseph in this new undertaking, and never suffering a pen rule difference to appear in his transactions, he so completely won the confidence of his senior partner, that ho left him the whole of his business as he expressed it in his will, even to the very last penny.l I cannot but realize, sometimes when alone and quietly smoking my cigar, bow some of us mortals go through life with shad ows following close behind us. Shadow of the dead companions of our younger days, whom we balf=recogniza and are reminded of by some passing stranger, Shadows of the living who have shared from the fulness of our hart's best; firseetnetions, who come no more to us now. All hope—of the great written past! Shadows quietly stealing be hind your chair when the reverie of gather ing twilight mellows the sharp corners of your eventful life; it is then you feel the gentle touch of your invisible guest on the shoulder, and an arm extended round your neck—beautiful shadow ! your breath came slow and hushed lest you mar the harmony of the hour—beautiful shadow, stealing away to leave a void .in the heart. Shadows fall ing across the pages on which you write dol> lora and cents. Shadows that linger for your attention on the first respite from business, or when the laughter and merriment•of a jo. vial hour has died •away. Timid shadow, lingering after you light is out to hover over your pillow and guard the night like angel watchman. You wake at dead of night, and the stradew of some dear old fellow appears in the dark back=ground ) and you lazily turn a more comfortable position s and full asleep with your companiods happiest smile upper most iu your -wind. Shadows, not burdens I Love's shadows, that go to make the story of 'who and what we are,'—of what we have been, not what we may be. Ourselves—our identity. can't find broad for my family,' Raid_ a latzy fellow in company. 'Nor I, ' • replied an idustrious miller; 'l'm obliged to work for it: WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA, PRIDAY MORNING, AUGUST 23, 1867. o e=h ave=-I at eI y loat— pour--mother,t hen, Shadows Earth's Partings The earth is full of sad partings; the silent stars seem , to whisper them in their constant watching's, and the gentle zephyrs , chant them in every passing breeze; lightly, care !only they fall when none are nigh to tell us they are the last, and we bid adieu to those which hope flatters us we soon shall meet again. Sadly, bitterly when we clasp - 6 - e - band — we know we ne'er shall clasp again, and some loved one's presence, like a cher ished sunbeam to our vision, dies out forev er. ""rt - th - e — inevi tible - be uncertain ties of life, its unfoldiug scenes of anxiety and pain, throw a veil of sadness about fare well greetings and we seldom speak them we eat tt o erehatiee a sigh amid the ut a tear, -- sTalfista swaying multitude that throng the great thoroughfare of life; but 'tis a lonely word, and there is an indiscrihable solemni ty about it, tho oft unheeded, that chills the pleasures and mars the joys of lifec Frhours. Congenial Hope may hold out to us her most glorious anticipations, and heighten the anguish of the moment with her golden promises; but, alas! too often we find them fleeting as fair, and as evanescent as the periods they illuminate. Yes, life is one series of greetings and valedictions We meet to day; elated with most sanguine eapectatpos of joy and hap piness; to-morrow part with a parting wordy the last, it may be. that's heard on earth. -liut-Itis - well - thlit - there is a mystic 'curtain Jseuring tEC attire from us—its unseen, undeveloped woes that'armit attend the - oorn. -- ing yeais of our eiiatenoe. And ',as beet that the parting word is thus often uncon sciously given, and we know not that it is the last that's . heard ere we shall meet a round. the Throne above. 'A word, a word, a parting word, w-ligh- • tlpten the eir, when none aro near MNI Nu warning voice is hear(' to say I t-is-the - last-- - -;the last; One moment. then we smile away, And 'tis forever-past l 'Tie strings--'tis strange! we clasp the hand We ne'er may etas. again; assiag-thrill-a For ever to remain. 'Fie beat—'tie best! and they are bled Who have unconscious given The parting word, the last that's hoard Before they meet in heaven. - _The best of—all-Sehools. • The fireside is a seminary of infinite impor tance. It is important because it is univer sal, and because the education it bestows. being woven in with the woof of childhood, gives form and color to the whole texture of life. There are few who can receive the honors of a college, but all are the graduates of the hearth. The learning of the univer• sits may fade from the recollection, its clas sic lore may moulder in the halls of memory, but, the simple lessons of home, enameled jtpon the heart of childhood, defy the rust of years, and out live the mature but less vivid picture of after years. So deep, so lasting ) indeed, are the im pressions of early life, that you often see a man in the imbecility of age, holding fresh in his recollections the events of childhood, while all the wide space between that and the present hour is blasted and forgotten waste. You have, ; perchance, seen an old obliterated portrait, and in, the attempt to have seen it fade away, while a brighter and more perfect picture, painted beneath is revealed to view. 'rola portrait, first drawn upon canvass, is no faint illustration of youth; and though - it may be concealed by, some al ter design, still the original traits will Shine through the outward picture, giviug it tone while fresh, and surviving it in decay. Such is the fireside—the great institution of Prov idence for the education of man. How to avoid a bad Husband. 1 Never marry a man for wealth. A wo• man's life consisteth not in the things she possessoth.P 2 Never marry a fop who struts about dandy-like in his gloveS and ruffles with a silver top'd cane and rings on his fingers. 3 Never marry a niggard, close-fisted; mean, sordid wretch:, who saves every pen• ny, or , spends it grudgingly. Take care lest be stint you to death; -• • --- , 1.• Never marry a stranger, whose charac ter is not known or tested. Some females jump right into the fire with their eyes wide open. ti Never marry a mope, or a drone, one who crawls and .draggles through life one foot after another ) and lets things take their own course. 6 Never marry a man who treats his mo ther o r sister unkindly o r indifferently. Such treatment is a sure indication of a meao•ana wicked man. • 7 Never on any account marry a gambler, a profane person, one who in the least speaks lightly of GO(' or relicion. Such a man can never make a good husband: 8 Never cowry a sloven; a - man who is negligent of his person or his dress, and is filthy in his habits. The external appear. an.m is an infalliable index to the heart. 0 Shun the rake' as a snake, a viper s a very demon-. 10 Finally, never marry a man who iq ad dicted to the use/of ardent anirits Depend upon it, your alk better off alone, than you would be tied to a man whose breath' is ' po luted, and whose vitals are being gnawed out by alcohol. The following notice was posted in the posit - Ace recently: 'Lost, a rot/ kat; he, had spot on his bellied. legs; he was a she kat. I will ' give everyboddi 3 cts to bring • him bomb lIU MILITY. BY MONTI:WM WM The bird that soars on highest wing Builds on the ground her lowly neat, And she that doth most sweetly sing. Sings in the shale when all things rest, In lark and . nightengale we see What honcrihath humility. Among the many good stories made of the e__Jud.e Coo er Coo serstown, father of the novelist, to the following:—Jude Cooper was one of the first, if not the very first, to break the wilderness in that region; and was Cooperstown, which he sold out, sometimes on-very-liberal terms-to-setnal-settlers. One day a man came to him, wishing to purchase some wild land in a remote portion of .the township. •This tract of laud lay on the banks of the river, from which an abun tiaccrof-fish was - tat - ea for ,theit-p-plrcif-th-e -villagers; and the farmer asked if Judge Coo per would not be willing to take his pay in fish—an arrangement to which the Judge consented. 'But, said the farmer, 'you knot, judge, that there's all kinds of fish in the river—pike and trout, and large and small. You'll be willing to take them as they run, ' won't you, judge?' 'Oh yes, said the judge, good natureciln 'only bring your fish along. take them _as_they run. _ • n_d_so_the_papers_ware_made_out,and_the farmer departed. But the summer drew on, and waxed and waned, and yet none of the fish upon which the judge had expected to regale himself made their appearance at his door. After many months had passed, the judge, growing impatient about the promised payment for his land, mounted his horse and rode out into the-region it lay. As he ex- rttecl ) be_,fuutid the Rat et at work on hit place. The judge rode up to him, and asked t le -shirip ly about - tirt — fi ;Ir — h o—h-rrd promised to bring him. Fish! judgeLsaid the man,_risine;_slawly_ from the oz-yoke he was mending, - and look ing with atramazed squint upon Judge Coo per, did I promise to bring you any fish?' 'To b,e Bore you did?' said the judge roun dly: 'wasn't that the agreement? You prom. Teed to pfty for your in fish?' 'But, Judge,' said the man, •didn't you t may know a mau by ilie company is an old saying, and as true as ancient.— promise to take the fish as they run?' 'To be sure,' said the judge, 'but I , have is a law of social gravitation as well as had no opportaniiy to take them as I . they have a physical law of gravitation. Alen, and coni• run, or in any other way, for not a basket binations of men, always gravitate to their have poi brought me.' proper places. Put a thief in a community , ilut judge, ' rf aiii _ t h ib -e . ere_there are tee thievoa, and he will make -riverithere they ran: you-can-take as -- may. as you like!' The judge wheeled kia horse hastily and rode homeward. and the man got his farm by his wits, for Judge Cooper never appealed to him again for his fish—as they run, or any other way. But be was accustomed to tell the story with great glee. The Pendlum, A . few years ago a gentleman in ILstan having a leisure hour, sauntered into the court room where an interesting trial was in progress. Directly over the head of the judge there was suspended a large clock. The. broad face of the brass pendulum, neatly a foot in diameter, vibrated to and fro in a solemn measured movement which arrested his eye. For a moment he looked listlessly upon the precision of its oscillations, and• the idea gently occurred to him of the lapse. of time—its ceaseless, rapid flow, marked off so s'olcamly by the ticking of the clock. The train of thought thus suggested grad ually and silently absorbed his attention. His eyes were fixed upon the pendniat.- He was entirely insensible to the scene pas sing around him, as he thought of the events occurring over the world in the interval mark ed by the vibration; now some are sinking into a watery grave—now the assassin plung es the dagger--now come/ the fiend like 'shock of armies—now the cry of remorse as cends from the pillow of the dying sinner' What multitudes die at each vibration! flow rapidly the vibrations cut off the moments allotted to met How soon will the clock strike my last hour? Where shall I then be? In heaven or in bell. Thus be stood,,lcst in reverie, while that noiseless pendulum preaohed to his soul in tones such as be had never heard before.— He left the court room, mingled with the thoughtless crowds in Washington street, but the barbed arrow of . religious conviction had pi — ereed his blurt and Co could - not extract it. Ho Sought his Closet. He fell t.pon his knees, and in anguish offered the payer which sincerely offered is never refilled : '0 God ! be merciful to me, tesiandr He soon found the - peace of pordtin; and went on his way heavenward rejoicing. 'The wind blow eth where it listeth ; and thou hearest, the sound thereof , but most not tell whence it cometh or whither it goet,h. So-is every one that is born of the Spirit. Jeer .not upon any 'occasion. If they be foolish,.God has denied theui uncle4tand• ing; if they are vicious, you ought to pity not revile them: If deformed, tied framed their bodies, and you,will•Ecoro his work. manship. Are you wiser than your Creatot? if poor, poverty was designed for a motive to charity, and not to conteinpt; you cannot see what riches they have within. Especi ally despise not your aged parents. if they come to their second childhood, and be not so Ain as . fornerly; they are yet yoUr par. • i,ts--:your duty is not diminished.. • t.. Lynn, Mass..a Sunday, School teacher aske; :,4041girl who tho first _1:13111 was. She Q.'SWired that atm did 'not know. The question was put to the next, an. Irish child who answered loudly, 'Adam sir,' with ttp pcarent satisfaction. 'Law,' said the first sebolar, 'you needn't fed so grand about it, he wasn't an Irish man! `My Papa is a Tall Man.' An affair happened a day or two ago, at one of our hotel:, where a child discovered a nice little arrangement to the proprietor. About two weeks ago a gentleman, lady, and a little girl stopped at one of our hotels and registered as Mr. —, and wife, and for quite a long time everything passed on smoothly. They were as loving, and attentive to each other and child as would be expected, and might have continued the nice little ar rangement' but for a little error. Truly it has been said, 'a child and a tool always tell the truth,' and hero was a cause just to the point. One day last week the gentleman and lady shut the child out in the ball, for rea sons rink , • nto us and the child tint Ii this treatment began to cry and make a great noise through the house, and it reaching the ears of the proprietor, he went up stairs and found the crying chile and endeavored to paci fy it; but still it contined to fret, when he told it to go into the room to its papa, vrhen the-child-looking up into his fade with a half surprised expression, said to him, 4 That ain't my papa; my papa is a tall man, and he is home.' here w;Ss a revelation; 'papa at home, a tall man,' the man , here with the mother of the child was a short man. The. proprietor hesitated a moment what to do, One thing certain, they must leave; so leaving the child, he went down" and sent word up to the man to come down to the ef fuse. lie came, all smiles, as a man would, havinija good thing all Lid from everybody's eyo,.and was considerably surprised when rt to an loradr - id=iiiYrtfiA=lAl and reques ted immediate payment; and was still more surprised to hoar the proprietor say, 'Pack up and leave within ten minutes.' lie pro tested, but the unyielding proprietor only re plied that, 'children and tools always tell the truth,' and threatened him with arrest and disgrace if he did riot travel. , The man made all haste possible,- and went out from the ho te , venal era. y cres a cm IYA are expectiog_e_y_oty_day ttl_sec a tall man running alono; these streets , carrying a 'seven-shooter' and two cups of coffee, lopk. lug for a stray wife, lamb, and a short man but if ho had an atom of common sense be will remain at home and leave the siraN wife to her fate.— Cleveland Ilerald. The-T-ioka-Agiks-lor-truly-rarna the_ecq_uaintance of everyman of them before he has been there two days. It is said that the practice of calling the Copperheads rebels-and traitors is a harsh one. It may be harsh, but is it not just? Mark who these men quote When they want to make a point. If a fight is on a Union General, they search the rebel ue wspapers for evidence against him. Just now, Cop perhead papers are firing away at Ben. But ler. Robert Ould, the Richmond rebel Corn mission6 of Exchange of prisoners during the war, writes a letter stating that he offered to exchange fifteen thousand sick and wound ed Union prisoners for an equivalent. This was in 1864. The inference is that Gen. But ler refused to accept the prcpposition. But Gem Butler makes an official statement de nying that Mr. Ould over addressed him such a proposition. The Copperheads publish Ould's charge, and do not publish the fact. that Butler has officially denied its truth They use Cild's letter to batter Butler. Of course we all know that any Copperhead will sooner believe a traitor than a man who fought traitors. It is the most natural thing in the world for them to do it. POPULAR NA Mr.. 91 OF STATES.—Virginia, the Old Duminion. • Massachusetts, the Bay Stale. Main, the Border State Rhode Island, the Little Rbetly. , New York, the Empire State: New Hampshire, the Granite State. Vermont, the Green i l / 4 lowltain State. Connecticut, the Land of steady habits. Pennsylvania, the Keystone State. North Carolina, the Old North State. ts Ohio, the Buckeye Stare. South Carolinia, the Palmetto State. . Michigan, the Wolverine Sure. Kentucky, the Corn Cracker. Delmore, the Blue Hen's Chicken. Missouri, _the State, _ _ Indiana, the noesier's State. Illinois, the Sacker State. lowa, the Ilankeye State. Wisconsin, the aidger State. , Florida, the Pcoinsular State Trxas, tho• Lone Star Statr. A DAY.---It has risco upon us from the great deep of eternity, girt round with won der; ernergiog from the w9rula of darkness, a new creation of life and light spoken into be ing by the word of God. -In itself on en tire and perfect sphere of space ani time, filled and emptied of the sun. Every past generation is represente I in it, is the flower ing of all history, and iu so much it is richer and hotter than all other days which have preceded ir. Aod we have been reercatesl to new opporuoities, with new powers—called to this utmost promontory of actual times, this centre of all cowing life." Attd it is for to- day's WOIk we haveA"en endowed: it is tot this we are pressed and surrounded with these facilities. The suni of our entire being is concentrated here; and to-day is all the time we absolutely have.—Chapia. • 'Oh, pa, Mr. Joami was here this Moreinz, and when ma told him that you would not be home till late, he 'said her: lips were like hon ey, and that he wished ho was a bee, and then he kissed _her. They gave me . a stick of candy not to tell any one , . but I don't think they ' d - mind .you, you are so Well: ac quainted with. wa.' 92?-00 Wooie Itevtio `Well Mr: Snow, I wants to ax you a question! 'Propel it, deo,' 'Why am a grog shop like a counterfeit dollar?' 'Well, Ginger, I gibs <lnt right up.' 'Does, does you gib it up?—Kase you can't pass it. . 'Yal2l yala, nigger, you talk go much — 'court your counterfeit dollats, just succcecd to deform me why a counterfeit dollatis an apple pier 'Oh, [ (traps the subject, and doesn't know • nothin' 'bout, it.' 'Kase it 'isn't current.' 'Oh! crackie, what a nigger! Why am • • • - • • • ~.. 'Go way. from mo— why am it?' Kase darn no sense (cents) in it.' 'Well yo.: always was the brackest nigger I nebber seen—you always will halt :la last Word!' A 'clergyman who enjoys the substantial benefits of a fine farm, was slightly taken down a few days ago by his Irish plowman. who was sitting at his plow in a tobacco field resti,.;',•; his - horse. The reverend gentleman being an ec.memist said, with great -- -e - t, I • nesn 'John, wouldn't - it be a goon plan for foil to have a stutiseythe bore and be cutting a few bushes along the fence while the horse is at resting a short time: John with quite as serious a countenance as the divine wore hiniself, said: Would u4,-it,b e-we 11- F ai r—l o rq,-Itt=to=ha-veza tub of potatoes in the pulpit, and'when they are singing. to peel em awhile to be ready for the pot.' - The reverend gentleman and left CONTRAMES.—S 100!0 arcte exce:lently on temperance—when saber, "011080E1'8 essay ota perfect bear, the gloomy verses of Young gave - one rho blues, but be vrns - a - brisk, lively— man; the 'Comforts of bite,' by B. Heron, was-written-in-prison, under-the-most-di- -- tressiug oircumstisneew; 'Miseries of Unman Life was, on the contrary, composed in a drawing room, whore the author was sur rounded by every luxury; all the friends of Sterne knew him to be a sol tah man •et as r-lic-Px cal J in pa-tives—a-nd--a a at oud time beating 111:3 wife, at another wast- inn his synipatlnts over a dead monkey. Seucca wrote in praise of poverty on a table formed of solid gold, with' iniflions lent out at usury; some of Hood ' s COMIC effuiimis were written in bodily pain and mental an!;uisli. - 11 - 01t - S - E - FLESII ns FOOD.—It isS - tated. that Paris consumes, as butchers' meat, an-average of two hundred horses per month. This meat is sold only fur what it is, viz: horse flesh. It is eaten continually, and bccauso it is palatable and nutritious. It takes all the forms of other meats such as steaks, hops, sirloins, rumps, ribs, &e, arid is sills jeered to a similar variety of culinary treat• • merit. The Parisians, by the-bye, have late• ly tried to introduce the &ill of mules, slsu, to the tables; but thij has proved too much for even the orilighteued digestion of the French people. In day the number of mules slaughtered for the markets there had fallen from sixty to ninety per month. Mr. W. J. Mills writes to the New York Christian Advocate, from West Virginia, as follows:—' There is one tnao, by the name of Conway, in Cheat 31ountains, who has just lately heard of the war. Ile lives twenty miles from any human habitation, and has not paid taxes tory ears. lle is CJ ntented to live with his wife, ignorant even of the af fairs of his country, and sper,di -his days hunting and fishing. lie said he had tm• derstuod a few years ago there was a little fuss about something, but did not suppose it had amounted to anything. A friend of ours visiting a neighbor found him disabled from having a horce to step up on his foot. Hobbling out of the stable, the sufferer explained how it happened. 'T. was staudlng here,' said he, 'the horse brought his fuot right down on mice.' Our friend looked at the injured member, which was of the No. 14 pattern, and said, very quietly, 'Well. the horsy must stop somewUto.' The aim of an hone;3t, man's life is not tim happiness which !serves only himself, bat, tho virtue which is useful to others, When you hear a sermon, do not try how much fault you can find with it, but try how much fault you can Bad with your elf. Ira husband wad wife ate a fast cenple, there u danger iu their case, ds in a fast team, that tha coupling map break. eg — o" one has ever been or has ? been raised 9!) hi reach of troubles. iSte proudest, wan, , stoop to a floweA The bes4,capit capital wife. A It is a miserable thing to live in suspeasc; it is the lifts of a spider. The richer a'man makes his food : the poor er be wakes his appetite. A cripple upon the right road will bait a racer upon the wrong. A man is raver so apt to be crooked -as When be is in a strait. 'Over two hundred horses and fifty nice asses were killed and eaten in Paris in *rob. --Affeototilpn is a greater cueing to the _raga iEkttk-he.s;u4ll-r.x. NUMBER 6 and so great o be above the S-3 goit h, as, well as the greatest, egin life with is
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