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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