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• 33'Sr W. XI
ALEX. LEEDS,
Next door to the Town Hall, has n3w on band
Forwent of
CLOCKS,
Selected by himself with great care, a I age and
well selected assortment of
of Swiss, English, and American Manufacture ;
JEWELRY
cheaper than evor before sold in Waynesboro', all
the latest leis kept constantly on hand.
every variety of Cuff buttons. A fine assort
ment of
FINGER-AND EAR-RIN_GS
Solid Gold. Engagement and
W EDDINO RINGS,
Silver Thimbles and sheelds,' Castors, Forks, and
Spoons, Salt Cellars, and butter Knives of the cel
ebrated Roger Manufacture, at reduced rates.
SPECTACLES
To suit everybody's. eyes. New glasses put ig old
frames.
Clocks. Watches, and Jewelry promptly and
neatly repaired and warranted.
ALEX. LEEDS,
l'ilext door to the Town Hall, under the Photograph
ry. July 31.
NEW SPRING
SUMMER GOODS,
AT THE FIRM OF
STOVER Si WOLF'
(SUCCESSORS TO GEO. STOVER.)
DRY GOODS,
CARPETS,
NOTIONS.
(tvIKENSWARE,
GROCERIES,
BOOTS AND SHOES,
CUTLERY,
CEDER WA RE,
OIL CLOTHS,
dr,C., *C.
To which we invite the attention of all whowant
to'buy chenp goods
Mayi. IB6A
New Goods! New Goods!
NETCALFE & HITESNEW.
No. 27, Front Street,
CHAMBERSBURG,
,11 - 11 - jog AV,E their fall frock now ready fur sale. and'.
are, prepared to sell at extremely - low prices. as
they have thorough ycanwissed New York and o'h
• :ei ,ehstern markets, and having bought 'most'of 'their:
stock from first bands tnables - them W 31116 'cheap
as,the cheapest. s•Their motto Is," not tote under
' leid . by any establishment anywhere. Their stock
- 514blacaalmost everything belonging to the ,
:TRY . GOOO3:AND NOTION BUSI'NESS.
W alielWi ok&6101111 goods at the lowest city
likhinpprices. ' ,• •
• sept IS • ' METCALFE:
.66,111TE81fEW.
STOVER & WOLFF
IsCkIEITIC:I-41-Za.
, 4v FALLEN LEAVES,
Weary, the cloud droopeth down from the sky,
Dreary, the leaf lietb now ;
All things must come to the earth by-and-by,
Out of which all things grow. •
Let-the-wild-wind_shriek_and_whistle
Down aisles of the leafless wood ;
In our gardens let the thistle
Start where the rose-tree stood ;
Let the rotting mess fall rotten
With the raindrops from the eaves;
Let the dead Past lie forgotten '
In his grave with the yellow leaves
eery e c ond - iltrioTreth — down - from - tlursky,
Dreary - tbe - leallieth lo ,
All tLings must come to the earth by .and-by,
Out .4 which all things grow.
And again the hawthorns pale
-- Shall blow om-sweet in-the spring-;
And again the nightingale
In the long blue nights shall sing ;
And seas of the.wind shall wove
In the light of the galden grain ;
But the love that is gone to the grove
Shall never return again.
Weary, the cloud droopeth out of the sky,
ary, , the leaf lieth low;
All things must come to the earthlhy-itud-by,
Ont - of - which - all things gr .w•
NicluEit_ort_THE_l3aum.,_—_-Somebody_geta_l
off the following for the benefit of persons
troubled with 'Nigger on the Brain
Nigger ! Nigger !! Nigger ! !! Nigger !!) !
He nigger ! she nigger !
Big nigger ! little nigger !
Old nigger ! young nigger !
Nigger np ! nigger down !
Nigger preacher ! nigh
Nigger hence ! nigger thence !
There's a nigger on the fence !
Nigger thin ! nigger thick !
Nigger sl'm ! nigger slick I
Nigger bald ! nigger wool !
'Gainst the nigger let us p
Still no matter what they think !
Cults these niggers bow they stink!
Up the hill and down the level!
Let us fork each woolly devil !
INIY~3C~LL~.NY.
WEDDING TROUBLES
Billy Jenkins was a modest man, and al•
though he bad mingled with barbecues—,
shooting matches, barrooms, and many of
the et cetera places where 'men may occa
sionally be found—yet he was modest, very,
whenever placed in the company of ladies
He trembled when a pretty girl would speak
to him, and felt like a culprit at the stand
when be was called upon to see Miss so-and
so home. 'Bill could never explain or ac
count for his singular timidity. He would
sing, frolic, and was as wild as a rover a
mong men, but the sight of a petticoat would
unnerve him instantly.
Lucy Ann Ligrons, a young widow, bad
'set her cap' for Bill, and she was bound to
'have him or die! Bill, to tell the truth,
loved Lucy, and was as miserable out of her
company as he was bashful in it—but as' to
popping the question, that was itnlossible.
Lucy knitted purses, hemmed handkerchiefs,
worked shirt bosoms, and gave them to Jen
kins, as well as several gold rings, but Bill
would not propose. Lucy declared to him
repeatedly that she loved him, and was mis
erable when he was .absent from her, and
her happiness depended upon her being his
wife—but Billy was dumb. At last Lucy
was determined that he should hear thunder,
and then, after some preliminary soft talk
on her part, she very affectionately said :
'Billy, my dear, when are you going to
ask me to marry you; for I want to get my
dress ready ?'
Bill fainted on the spot, and hartsborn
and water were applied for half an hour be
fore be was restored.
'What has been the matter, Lucy ?'
'O, nothing much ; you fainted when you
were about to ask me to marry you—but I
told you yes—and 0, how happy we will be
when .we are married 1 I will love you eo
dearly; and so, neat Tuesday; why, I am
willing, the wedding should be then—my
dear Billy, how I do love you'
am willing, Miss Lucy,' was all that
Jenkins could articulate; while Lucy almost
kissed him' into fits. What a glorious vic
tory 1 .•
here we ought• to stop, but jus t ice to our
narrative requires that should proceed to the
finale
The 'next Tuesday' had come,
and Jenkins
was trembling at the approach of bvening
—something seemed to harrow - upon his
mind, and to no friend would he cotumuni•
care his deep distress.
- 'You are "not'afraid, certainly, to go up
and get married , to marry such a beautiful,
oharming and intellectual being as Mrs. Lig
goos, I should wish that time to fly like news
upon the elecitric.tehmraph line. Meer up,
Jenkins, be
'o,' replied
_dot* know what
diStreaves me. hat" go and get married,
that is easy enough, but there is some
thinan--
'Explain yourself,' replied liketrientl ;and
if, can with, proprioty„,i ; ,*ill:OdOayo,r, to
!nude!, you comfortable? „
:.Bui4enkins would not explain•—be dared
'not; it-was his timidity •he es* the rtibienki
lefore him , and he knew be could. not puss
er c lowa !
A=l MeLciewbors cliatiat INTomur . isrortiraelbr.
it; but he was determineeto get married,
and trust to luck and Luny.
The night came and they were - married.
All were merry; the laugh, the chat, the
song and the dance made np a lively party;
then came a dispersion, and at one o'clock,
Bill Jenkins was left solitary and alone in
the ball. Lucy Ann_had_ retired, and her
brides-maids were off in a distant room. Bill
••Jenkins' waiter and friends bad gone home
with the ladies: Bill
_was now at a point
Where he thought .his firmness would fail
him. His situation was a peculiar one. He
was not certain which was Lucy's room al
though be had been told—and even had he
-known,_be_could_noLgo_to_it._
The watchman cried 'past two o'clock,'
and yet Jenkins was still alone, and appar
ently engaged in perusing an old almanac,
which by chance had been left in his coat
pocket. An old female darkey, who resided
in the family, had been prevailed ripen by
e adies, who noticed the bashfu ness o
Jenkins, to show him his bedroom, and she
accordingly—int rod need—herself-to-him-in-a:
_m7des t_a_style_as _oh ewell_could.
'Mr. Jenkins, it's past two o'elocb.
'0 yes, I know it; I am going home in a
few minutes. Old woman where's - my - hat?'
'lt's in Miss Lney's room, sir—yoti• can
:et it there, it ' 011 2 11 an for it. Mr. Jen-
kins, why don't you go to bed ? Miss Lucy
is there waiting for you--don't be so modest
—tho ladies will laugh at you. Come with
me and I'll show you the room, for I want
to put nut the lights, lock up the house and
go to bed '
The old woman seized hold of Jenkins
and pullet him along until she got him out
of the hall, and his gnze was fixed for a mo
ment on the entry door ; but she was deter
mined to put him into Lacy's room, and af
ter—violent efforts succeeded, There h e
stood, with the . knob of the door in his hand,
but the darkey h - ad tieen — s - harp enough to
lock the door on the outside. Lucy pre•
tended for some time to be asleep; but that
sort of gammon would not answer; at last
she said :
''My dear Billy, what is the matter 1"
want my hat,l' screamed Jenkins.
Lucy, knowing his modesty, leaped out Qf
'bed,_and_atter_some time Bill went to bed
with his clothes and boots on—and trembled
till morning; and at daybreak was among 'the
Missing.
He got over his modesty in time, and is se
bed es the rest Of the men,
The-Sky.
Why is the blue sky, so grandly arched
above our heads ? The ancient Greeks sup
posed it to be a solid substance, spread above
the earth at an immense height, in which
the moon and stars were set like diamonds
in a ring. The upper surface was laid with
gold— the pavement of the gods.
In pagan countries somewhat similar no
, dons still prevail. A converted heathen said
that he thought that the sun, moon and stars
were holes in the solid sky, through which
came streaming down to earth the brightness
and glory of the heavenly world.
But, in - reality, the sky is nothing more
than the air we breathe. Instead of the sol
id arch, towering so many thousand of miles
above us, where our childish fancy put it,
the blue sky is nothing but the et.lor of the
ocean of air in which we .live and move .—
And, as to the distance from us, it is all
within three or four miles. Igor travelers,
who go upon high mountaintops, to 1 us that
they no longer see any blue sky above them
there, where the air is so thin that they pant
for breath, but oily the blackness of empty
I space
But, we may be asked, why do we not see
the blue color of air when we look up to the
ceiling of our rooms ? Why do we not have
a blue sky in the house as well as out of
doors Y The newer is that some substances,
of which air is one, do not show their colors
except in the masse. Take a pieco of glass,
pour upon it a single drop of ink; now press
another pioce of glass upob the ink, and hold
them both, pressed together, up to the light,
Sparcely any color of the ink clan be Rem..
The poet sap :
"'his distance lends enchantment to the view.
And robes tho mountain with its azure hue."
But philosophy, that great enemy to po
etry, steps up and tells us that it is not the
mountain's bine robe which we see, but only
the air, which, like a misty curtain, hangs
between us and the mountains,— Our Bop
and Girls.
The most miserable and hopeless scrap of
humanity, is an idle man—a man whose chief
aim is to 'loaf;' to waste in listless lounging
and physical inaction the best years of his
life. Tncre are numbers, of such beings in
every town, miserable loafers whose sole oc
cupation is to avoid employment of any kind,
whose lives can scarcely be called lives, who
die one after soother, and leave behind them
—what ? A vacancy to be mourned? No,
for they are themselves vacancies, not men.
The history of the world's progress ignores
their names, their existence, and being lead,
the grave contains no more inert,, worthless •
earth, than it did before.. They have no lo
cal habitation or name in so far as regards
worth or value, and from day to day in the
hands of busy men, they pass as uncurront
funds, at So much of a discount that they
cannot even buy themselves,
,The only
Parent exertion they 'exhibit is that which
enables them to be eternlilly ig somebody's,
business. They never do any special harm
and never accomplish any good. , They die
only when they get too Islay and indolent to
use their-'respiratory : organs. They never
get' the conadm ption, beca uke •tifey. • haven't
eneriy'eneugh'to :Cough.; 'They ,sgive em.
Iplement ; to. nohnciy foe - tbSy Wife none for
Alletneelves. ~F-row. these, and snob as these,
imay , lortithe preserve all well .meaning mor-.
tale. " '
' tilitmg Men 'of nimeteen-atlialt La s ire mupt
mgrry or pa, Brigham 4204).- •
The Death of Each Day
Night ib the death of day, the sleep of
planet• earth ; and how very near those Z r gh
ter worlds do comb ! Through forest leaves
we see the clinging stars, as if ileaperian
fruits were ripening. Venus at anchor is
just beyond our hall, and Mars makes signals
,-from-his decks-of-red.
It is a solemn thing to.sleep, whether be
neath the watching stars or at hgh noon.
Whither shall we pass into that noiseless
going, and when shall we return? From.
world to world is but a breath of sleep, they
say—then give us pleasing dreams.
Strangest of all journeys, is that 'going to
sleep' The fitful—pulse—grows—softer;—the_
hand forgets its cunning, the daughters of
music are brought low; they that look out
at the windows are darkened ; bare's raveled
sleeve is knitted ur±it is almost a dying.
Happy is be for whom no Glamis bath
murdered dee, • whose e elide' noiseless
close is like the drop of leaflets e'en own
with dew, whose slumbers deep as that which
:Won — Edens - garden, and whose-dreams-as- ' 1
fair as Eve, the firstborn daughter of mortal
sleep.
01 that 'how long-shalLwe_sleep ?' has
been the question in all times and tongues
since the morning stars were singing.
`lf_a_man die,_shall he live again ?'
And once a year have the daisies answer
ed it, and springs little infant given its fra
grant testimony ; and every day has the
morning testified, and yet the world is mur
mering still 'lf a man die shall he, live
again ?'
'How long shall we sleep ?' asks he who
has cradled a living thought upon his breast,
the child of' his brain and his heart., as be
seuis it forth orphaned in the balls of
Time, turns his face to the wall and dies 1
as he la's down the harp of life. feels the
daisies growing over him, and goes away,
where they sing the 'new songs, forever'
Not long, true thinker, not long, sweet
singer, for the thought shall rise like a giant
and brdlik the bands of sleep, and thou in it ;
for-the song shall fly like a bird, from spring
to spritig again, and the music and the wel
come shall be thine !
And when-life's-rain is over and gone f and
the brow of the clouds is bound with a rib•
bon that Lope did weave in the loom of God,
and the tears on the world are turned, to
pearls in the sunset, what words more bean•
tile, than these can we write trpotrstre—new
_grave_t___lHwgiveth-his beloved sleep !
Nun DIBOBLIGING CLERK.-000. rainy
day when little was being done by the clerks
at Stewart's Fp town store, an elderly man
stepped in and asked to see some sheeting.
The young man behind the counter of that
department, who had bat recently been em
ployed there, laid down a piece for inspec
tion. 'Let me look at another,' said the
gentleman. The clerk leisurely replaced
the first piece and handed down another.
This did not suit, and more was asked for,
and as the clerk was about replacing the
goods already shown, the customer requested
that it be left that he might compare it with
other pieces. After several more pieces
had been looked at, one seemed to suit • hie
wishes, but to make sure of its quality he
took hold of one end and carried it nearer
the light. 'll old on, old man, none of that,'
cried the clerk, sharply, 'you can- bay goods
here at tho counter, if you want them.'
He did not like the trouble of folding up
the goods again. guess you'd better step
duwu to the cashier's desk and get what is
owing you,' quietly remarked the supposed
customer, who was Mr. Stewart himself.—
'Yon are too careful of yourself to do busi
ness for me.' There was nothing left for the
indolent and disobliging clerk to do but set
tle his accounts and leave. The lesson was
severe, and one which will probably be last.
ing in his own case and also in that of his
fellow clerks, who saw the transaction.
Ivouv.--11 it should turn out that there
are large deposits of elephant tusks in the
Russian purchase, it would be an .impor
tant discovery in the way of sustenance.—
A small piece of ivory goes a great way as
nutrition, and by placing it on the tip of a
parasol it is reduced to a great convenience.
We observe women and girls sucking on the
streets, when they meet each other, and
when their mouths are not otherwise engag•
ed. Their assiduous application to this suc
culent shows that it must contain valuable
nutritive properties. And, besides; it keeps
up the innocent manners of babyhood. We
should judge, by the seemi g satisfaction,
that a supply of parasol tips i as good as a
euw in the family.
Knowledge, like wealth, is simply an elc•
went of power and enjoyment. Its poem.-
sion does not imply either wisdom of virtue.
Knowledge is au increased power 10 do good
or evil. There is a necessity, therefore,
that man's whole nature should be educated
to make him n• complete being it is essen
tial that the development of his moral na
ture keep peace with that of hie intellectual
faculties.
Thomas T. Bowie, Governor elect,of Mary
land, at a recent meeting in,Balt itnore, spoke
as follows concerning the bondholders: •
'lf there be any class of moo. I, would
sooner tug, it would be those men who have
furnished the means to °carry. on • the most
unholy, wicked, and cruel war ia• history.
['Applause.] I would not tax them as• pro
perty, but I would because I can read upon
the face of these bonds a contribution to an
unholy end:wicked purpose!:
q don't miss my church as much as
,you
suppose,' stod,i ladypto ;her minister, who
called: on het during. her illness, Tir I.make
Betsy sit at the window. As soon, as the -
,bells
boob] to chime, antrtell ma . . who
. ' s tre : goiug
teektueli . s dud silietb* they haye 613 tte'r
11;i4
What it Costa ; to Keep a Hotel.
The New York correspondent of the ein.
oinnati Gazette writes:
'Speaking of hotels, do you know how ex
tensively the accounts of a first-class , estab
lishment foot up in the course of a year ?
The bills of a first-class hotel for
,supplies are
enough to support a good many small famil
ies, especially if they practice economy, and
don't keep dogs and horses and• Saratoga
trunks. For example, I will give you some
items from the ballance sheet . , of the Astor
House, the oldest first-claww hotel in the city.
The Astor House'pays seventy-five thousand
dollars a year for groceries, hxoluding . BB,-
_ooo_for_fiour and $22,000 for butter. (Who
would suppose that -its butter would cost
nearly
. three times as much as its flour ? but
so they, tell ) The marketing bill is a
bout 8150,000—they pay one man from fif
ty-five to sixty thousand dollars for *beef a
lone, and the balance of the hundred and
6 f —nultr•
.ty goes or - mu on, yea , por , you ry,
vegetables, fish, &e. The milk and cream
for-the-Astor-costsl4,o_oo,_absutAsto-t h i rds_
of it being for milk and one-third for cream.
Eggs cost about $12,000, the average use
being one hundred dozen daily, or thirty.
six thousand annually. The gas bill is $l4,
000, and the coal bill pretty much the - same;
friction matches cost a dollar and a,halfa
day, or about $5OO a year; a good many of
these are not used in the house, but find
their way into the pockets of the patrons.—
Who would think of paying for wooden
tooth-pickwhen any one can whittle one
with little trouble 7 A million are used ev
ery year in the Astor House, at an expense
of something less than a hundred dollars.-
Brawn tissue paper, eut to the size of com
mon note sheets. costs about twelve hundred
dollars, and sometimes a great deal more, ac
cording to the patronage the house has re-
he bill — for ignore • or e
eavy one,
room M a
proprietors, the amount received from pa.
trona is a great deal more. With all these
figures staring him in the'face, a man who
can keep a hotel is entitled to all the praise
of his fellow-citizens, and can be set down in
the line of philanthropists and practical ben
efactors of 'his race•'
Tha Love of the Beautiful.
Place a young girl under the care of a
kindhearted, graceful woman; - and she nn.
consciously to herself groin into a graceful
ady. Platte the boy-in-the-establishusent_o
a thoron_gl±going, straight - forward business
man and the boy becomes , prao
tioal business man. Childreo are sescepti
ble creatures, and circumstances, scenes, ac
tions, always impress. As you itifluenoe
them, not by arbitrary rules, nor by stern
example alone, but in a thousand other ways
that speak through beautiful forms, pretty
pictures, so they_will grow. Teach your
Andrea then to love the beautiful. Give
them a corner in the garden for flowers, en
courage them to put in shape hanging base
kets, allow them to have their favorite trees,
lead them to wander in the prettiest wood
lets, show them where they can best view
the sunsets, rouse them in the morning, not
with the stern 'time to work,' but with the
enthusiastic 'see the beautiful sunrise I' buy
for them pretty pictures, and encourage them
to decorate their rooms each in .his or her
own childish way. The jostinct is in them.
Give them an inch and 'they will go a mile.
Allow tbom the privilege and they will make
your borne beautiful.
MIISIOAL.—'Brick' Pomeroy, the. other
day, engaged a hand organ grinder to come
daily to his newspaper office, and there play
the tune of 'Dixie's Land.' But the other
day some wag hired another hand organ man
to station himself near by, and play with
equal industry another well known sir 'Sher
man's March to the Seal The Sun re
ports :
'The effect upon the crowd, which now
rapidly increased in numbers, was electrical.
They perceived the joke and enjoyed it
hugely. Cheers went up for Sherman, and
the pennies flew all over the player and his
instrument. The day wore on, but Sherman
still kept marching, crestfbilen Dixie disap
peared. Night olosed upon the Union man
with seven hundred cents weighing down his
breeches pockets, besides the greenbacks of
his hire. Jollity be flung his instrument
upon his shoulder, and as be went his way
rejoicing, askured the crowd who cheered,
•I come again to-morrow wis one odder bar
rel, ar.d I play all day, John Brown's body
lies mouldering in his grave, but his soul is
marching on.'
A TECHNICAL SUITOR--!Love Letter fr om
a Tailor to lize•Sseeetheart,a Mantuataaker.
—'Remnant of my hopes : May I be ripped
from the border of your esteem and never be
buttoned to the loop of your kindness,•hut
am.strongly seamed to them by your beauty.
May I never lose a thimbleful of your favor,
but you have entangled the thread •of thy
understanding with that 'pretty outside of
yours. Odd bodkin I-I am:surely yours— ;
every iuch of 030—and my needle follows
you. Therefore blunt not the
.point of my
endeavors, but let : mo.baste myself to your
affections. I love you beyond. measure, but
it is so hard to cabbage one sweet look from
you, that almost despair of ,having enough
to, finish my suit. Pray put a • favorabfie oorr
struetion on this, and for the same I shall
always sit cross..legged for your sake, being,
my dearest little flouneer, your .
. 'Actions ore immortal; and our deeds now
and their deservings hereafter tenet be the
twin companions that,. stroll walk in eternity
band nod hand.
' It is not what we eat, but ,hat tie dige t
that makes fat; it ie not what we in Ake, but
What we save, that tnakeeis ritib;' it la not
,That.we,T,ead,,,butk what Avict+ ..xelsretablor that
114144 4 19 e.
,„. , _
CAN'T SLEEP WITII THE WHOLE PARTY.
—A good joke is related of a member of the
Pendleton Club, of Cincinnati, at the New
York Convention. It appears that he oou'd
not go with the club when it started, but
followed it a day or two afterward. Reach
ing the city in the night, and preferring 'to
go to a Hotel rather than hunt up the head
quarters of the club at the late hour he
made his way to an•uptown betel. Of coorPe
it was crowded. Rut what seemed awo d a
there was one room unoccupied To that
the
• tired Cincinnatian was assigned, and was
soon marshalled away thither by a bell boy.
He was not a little dismayed to find the
room to be about eight by ten feet, with a
ems
_win( ow fronting en an unfathomable
alley, its depths made vocal by a hattallion
of tom eats, and redolent with unnumbered
smells. He at once objected to such . quart
ers, and dist.atebed the bell•boy atter the
clerk, who soon made his appearanee.
' . .:• I .
, inemnaturn '.O yr( u
expect me to stay in this pipe all night ?'
The clerk assured him that in conse neves
of the crowded erudition of the hotel, no
better aommmodations could be afterded
him, although it would be a great pleasure
on his part to give him the best room in
the house. 'And,' added the clerk, by way
of a clinching argument, 'General Grant
slept in this room once when be visited - the
city.'
The gentleman of Porkepolis said be did
not care a continental as to thst, but if Gen.
Grant could stand it he supposed that he
could too.
The clerk retired to the o ffi ce, compli
menting himself upon his strategy. The
guest retired to bed, and in five minutes was
attacked by a countless host of bed bugs.
Finding it useless to contend against such
overwhelming numbers, ho — baatily attired
the - astonished clerk, — " 'l thought you were
satisfied to stay in the room all night.'—
`Now, look here,' said the Cincinnatian, 'l've
got pluok enough to sleep where Gen. Grant
has slept but I'll be eternally cussed if I can
make up my mind to sleep with the whole
Radical party,'
TER BEST BE COULD Do.—An _army— _
chaplain stains the following funny story.
Seeing a dirty faood butternut urchin at the
fence in front of a house : - •
'ls your father at home ?'
'No, he's gone to
a your mo er ru
•N-o r abels_gone too '
'Then you are all by yourself?'
'No, Sam'i in &liar huggiu' the nigger
sal!
'That's bad.'
'Yes, it's bad, but its the bast ho can
do It
FICIEITISO IT OUT OR TUAT LINE.-A ro
mantic pair, not more than a thousand miles
from Pittsburg, were blessed with a number
of daughters. The eldest was called Caro.
line, the second Madeline, the third Eveline,
the fourth Angeline, when lo I the fish made
its appearance, and no name could be found
with the desired termination. At length
mamma, who bad been reading of the fash
ions at Saratoga, pounced upon a name very
popular there, and forthwith the baby was
baptized— CrinousE I
A gentleman remarking in a tavern that
he bad shot a hawk at ninety yards with No.
6 shot, another replied: .
'Must have a good gun, but Uncle Dave
here has one that beats it.'
'Ah said the first, 'how far will his kill
a hawk with No. 6 shot r
'I don't use shot or ball neither,' answer
ed Unole Dave himself.
'Then what do you use, Uncle Dave ?'
shoot salt altogether; I kill my game so
far with my gun that the game would spoil
before I could get to it.'
Brown, on his first journey per coach,
worried the driver beside whom he eat with
incessant *childish questions about every
thing on the road. At last he gave. his
quietus thus :
Driver. There's been a woman lying in
that house more than a mouth, and they
haven't buried her yet'
Brown. 'Not buried ber yet !—Pray tell
me why not?'
Driver. 'Because she isn't dead.'
A lady remarked to her boy. Never put
off till to morrow, what you eau do today.
The urchin replied, 'Dem Mom let's eat dat
'ar watermelon.' It was eaten.
'Sambo, why am dat nigger down dltr in
the hole of de boat like a °bloke% in de egg ?'
gives um up.' Beeause he couldn't get
out if it wasn't for de hatch.'
A Yankee wishing for some Ranee for his
dumplings, forgot the name of it and said;
Here Waiter, letch me some of that gravy
.that.you wallow your dumplings in.
A railway traveler of our acquaiutance
biome 31s; that ho recently caught cold
through sitting nor, to a wet nurse. •
If you,wifh , tO hate! baby, throw
it f out of ,the window and it will come, down
Some wives are tore icaliPl4,to wear ,tho
breeches then to mood them, • „
CA . BliztoE.'
•A great virtue in woman —to'be abto to
dress for a party inside of 2;40..
Advice• to a,n]on with a polo in hie stom
ach is to , Wear a ( sash; ' "
•
Refrain not to Break when by ttpesking
you •+any do good. -
, AY bat is that whish ties two , person:li Ned
only ,ivuiibes A wiolidiertzrig
00.00 Per Year
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