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Tee DOLuLas A YEAR,] FOR T9E DISSEIINATION OF USEFUL INTELLIGENCE [INVARIABLY IN- ADVACE
YOL.Y. WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUS
EYRY WEDNESDAY MORNING,
men3 s rza ANNUM, IN CURRWnCY
tssttregaired invariablyin advance.
1taRiee, Funeral Invitations, Obit
,ste oiareet as advietimets.
wh 6edozen pairs
Qf ;this verb minute;
soon pt all these things to rights
The f$d uce is'ia'it.
ee's a big washing to he done,
sE f do :it,
ow wigever get throngh~it? .
- over from Sunday ;
/ inalways so on Monday.
thea's the cream, 'tis getting sour
SW ethiaibe bnmlng ;
Ad here's Bob wants ; button on
ala I be turning ?
'Tiyae the meat was-in the pot,
work d for boking.
iake fromthe boil
O iart the baby's waking !
N. s inbnt1Le,h'eh-h!
dget some wood,
a seemse tge *'lm
dow t.--Iie bo.
Aird. things in this pother,
" wi11ome some hasty word
t o64.ire I'm thinia.g;
ibesy Ebasywordsfroaa wives
st maa to d:3aking:
go anc sese wiaoiagP
- Ms-.piung I sed to earn
wtbblog out trouble ;
sad pocket-money, tod,
" iW1rl i f a eisore doub!e.
srelmed of sneh a fate,
$ s' La-was courted
_ri rS, seam3tress, eook,house
sepb generally, doing the work
. sake ad.being supported i
thtr Young Hasands.
'6ieof the best stories we have
ishAor some time, as inge
*but truthfully giving a
4 ihat:aany young married
s.e4l we clip from the Lon
yHerald.-N. 0. Pica
Wilson, as her husband
db 4'diythe tea-table and took
going out," was the
where? asked his wife.
dMi4fds does it make, Em
her husband. "I
atmy usual time."
J d oung wife hesitated, and
~a~nk SASli overspread her face.
Seined to have made up her
- toi1~ peklanly upon a sub
j~ 1&.had lan uneasily upon
b~brt or som~e time, and she
- a let the opportunity pass.
~~Mg~dan effibrt-but she per
tolyuwhat odds it
e,se ad ini a kind
tea Elastone. "If I cannot
j~~~urempany here at home,
- ~qIatleast feel better if .1
Tmwhere you were."
* fit you know that I am safe,
simmar-and what more can you
"I d~o not know that you are
,afe, George. I know nothing
knout you when you are away."
-"Poh! pooh I Would you have
*Ittlis I ari not capable of taking
- Mr of dyself?"
"You put a wrong construction
bonmy words, George. Love is
anxious when its dearest
obect is away. If I did not love
~btas I do, I might not be thus
4Sfany. When you are at your
of business I never feel thus,
cI know I can seek and
god4 you at any moment; but when
au s absent during these long
.vsings, Iget to wondering where
are. Then I binto feel
b'ieeie; and so one thought fol
)ws another, until 1 feel troubled
and uneasy. Oh-if you would
~only stay with me a portion of
"Aha-I thought that was what
yog were aiming at," said George
With a'playful shake of the head.
"You would have me kere every
"Well-can you wonder at it?"
returned Emma. "I used to be i
very happy when you came to
spend an evening with me before
we were married; and I know I I
should be very happy in your so- I
"Ab," said George, with a smile,
"those were business meetings.
We were arranging then for the
"And why not continue so to do,
my husband? I am sure we could
be as happy now as ever. If you
will remember, one of our plans
was to make a home."
"And haven't we got one, Em
"We have certainly a place in
which to live answered the wife,
"And it is our home," pursued
George. "And," he added, with a
sort. of confident flourish, "home is
the wife's peculiar province. She
has charge of it, and all her work
is there ; while the duties of the
husband call him to other scenes."
"Well, I admit that, so far as
certain duties are concerned," re- 1
plied Emma.' "But you must re
member that we both need relax- E
ation from labor; we need time
for social and mental improvement
and enjoyment; and what time i
have we for this save our evenings? ]
Why should not this be my home i
of an evening, as well as in the
day-time and in the night ?" i
"Well-isn't it ?" asked George.
"How can it be if you are not 1
here ? What makes a home for
children if it be not the abode of ]
the parents? What home can a <
husband have where there is no !
wife? And, what real home com
fortman a wife enjoy 'where there I
is no husband? You do not con- i
sider how lonesome I am all alone
here during these long evenings. I
They are the very seasons,when I
am:st leisure to enjoy your corn- a
psniooship, and when you would
b id are jy ie, .ltis l
worth enjoying. They are the
seasons when the happiest hours i
of home life might be passed.
Come-Will you not spernd a few a
of your evenings with me ?" s
"You see enough of me as it is,"
said the husband, lightly. *
"Allow me to be the best judge
of that, George. You would be
very lonesome here, all alone."
"Not if it was my place of busi- C
ness, as it is of yours," returned b
the young man. "You are used
to staying here. , All wives belong
"Just remember, my husband,
that previous to our marriage I
had pleasant society all the time.
Of course I remained at home
much of my time; but I had a
father and mother there, and I had
brothers and sisters there, and our
evening were happily spent. Fi
nallyl gave all up for you. 1 left
the f hme, and sought a home
with my husband. And now have
I not a right to expect some of
your companionship? How would
you like it to haye me away every
evening while you were obliged
to rvmamn here alone ?"
"Why-I should like it well
"A -but you, would not be ~
willing to try it.".
"Yes, I would" said George, at
"Will you remain here every
evening next week, and let me
spend my time among my female
friends ?'b 1
"Certainly.[ will,'"nhe replied; i
"andlassure youlIsliall not be so
lonesome as you imagine."
With this the husband went out,
and was soon among his friends. ~
e was a steady, industrious man, e
and loved his wife truly; but like j
thousands of others, he had con
tracted a habit of spending his b
venings abroad, and thought it r
o harm. His only practical idea i,
>f home seemed to be, that it was e
a place which his wife took care e
f, and where he could eat, drink ,
and sleep, as long as he. could pay ,
for it. In short, he treated it as a
sort .of private boarding house, of r
which his wife was landlady ; and
ifepaid all the bills, he consid- j
are hs dtydone. Hiis wife had
frequently asked him to stay atu
ome with her, but she had never 14
entured on any argument before
ad he had no conception of how a
much she missed him. She al
ways seemed happy when he came
ome, and he supposed she couldr
aways be so.
Monday evening came, and 1i
eorge Wilson remained true to si
is promise. His wife put on her ti
onnet and shawl, and be said he ti
would remain and "keep house."
"What will you do while I am d
on?" Emmna asked. a
"Oh, Ishall read anduing, and xi
miney myelf genarally."
"Very well," said Emma. "I
ihall be back early."
The wife went out, and the
husband was left alone. He had
in interesting book, and he began
to read it. He read till eight
)'clock, and then he began to
yawn, and look frequently at the
.lock. The book did not interest
him as usual. Ever and anon he
would come to a passage which
he knew would please his wife,
ind instinctively he turned as
though he would read it aloud ;
but there was no wife to hear it.
&t half-past eight he rose from his
:hair and-began to pace the floor
mud whistle. Then he got his
lute, and played several of his fa.
rorite airs. After this he got a
hess-board and played a game i
with an imaginary partner. Then
he walked the floor and whistled
gain. Finally, the clock struck 1
Qine, and his wife returned.
"Well, George," said sAe, "I am
ack in good time. How have
ron enjoyed yourself?"
"Capitally," returned the hus
)and. "I had no idea it was late.
[ hope you have enjoyed your
"Oh, splendidly r' said his wife.
'I had no idea. how much enjoy- 1
nent there was away from home. i
lome is a dull place, after all
sn't it ?"
"Why, no, I can't say that it
s," returned George, carelessly. i
'In fact," he added, "I rather
"I'm glad of that," retorted
mma, "for ye shall both enjoy 1
urselves now. You shall have a i
doe, comfortable week of it."
George winced at this, but he 1
cept his countenance and deter
ained to stand it out.
On the next evening, Emma i
irepared to go away again.
"I shall be back in good sime," I
he said. e
"Where are you going ?" her i
"Oh, I can't tell exactly, I 1
nay go to several places."
So George Wilson ,was left alone I
6gain, and he tried to amuse him- ,
elf as before ; but he found it a I
lifficult task. Ever and anon he ,
cold cast his eyes upon that ]
impty chbair, and the thought t
could come. "How pleasant it
vould be if she were here I" The r
lock finally struck nine, and he e
>egan to- listen for the step of his
Half an hour more slipped by, I
,nd be became very nervous and t
"I declare, he muttered to him- )
elf, after he had listened for somea
ime in vain-"this is too bad.z
~he ought not to stay out so late !".
ot he happened to remember
hat he often remained away much t
ater than that; so he concluded i
at he must make the best of it.a
Lt a quarter to ten, Emma came j
"A little late, am I not ?" she i
aid, looking up at the clock. "But a
fell in with some old friends.
low have you enjoyed your
"First rate," returned George, ,
eravely. "I think home is a capi
"Esecially when a man can
ave it all to himself," added the1
rife with a sidelong glance at her
usand. But he made no reply.1
On the next evening, Emma
>repared to goout as before ; but
his time she kissed her husband t
re she went, and seemed to hesi
"Where do you think of going, i
sked George, in an undertone ?" j
"I may drop in to see Uncle I
ohn," replied Emma. "Howev- f
r, you won't be uneasy. You'll j
no w I'm safe."I
"Oh, certainly," said her hus- 1
and ; but when left to his own a
eflections he began to ponder ser- t
usly upon the subject thus pre- a
ented for consideration. He t
ould not read, he could not play;
or enjoy himself in any way,
hile that chair was empty. In
bort, he found that home had no
eal comfort without his wife. The ~
no thing needed to make his ~
ome cheerful was not present.f
"I declare," he said to himself, ~
I did not think it would be so
nesome. And can it be that she ~
els as I do, when she is here all t
lone ? It must be so," he pur-.
ied, thoughtfully. "It is just as
be says. Before we were mar- P
ed, she was very happy in her"
bildhood's home. Her parentsd
Ved her, and her brothers and i
isters loved her, and they did all i
boy could to make her comfor- i
After this ho walked up and
own the room several times, t
ndh eu stope ain and epm- .
"I can't .s.ad this" snid he. "I u
should die in a week. If Emma
were only here, I think I could
amuse myself very well. How
lonesome and dreary it is ! And
only 8 o'clock ! I declare-I've
s mind to walk down as far as
Uncle Johns, aad see if she is
there. It would be a relief if I
anly saw her. I won't go in. She
shan't know yetthat I hold out so
"George Wilson took another
turn across the. room, glanced
nce more at the clock, and then
took his hat and went out. He
locked the door after him, and
then bent his steps towards Uncle
John's. It was a beautiful moon
light night, and the air was keen
sd bracing. He was walking
long, with his eyes bent upon the
pavement, when he heard a light
step approaching him. He looked
ip, and-could not be mistaken
saw his wife. His first impulse
was to avoid her, but she bad re
"George," she said in surprise,
'is this you ?"
"It is," was the response.
"And youdo not pass your even
ngs at home ?"
"This is the first time I have
>een out, Emma, upon my word ;
md even now I have not been ab
'ent from the house ten minutes.
[ merely - came out to take the
esh air. But where are you go
"I am Coing hdme, George, will
rou go with me Y*
"Certainly," retorned the hus
.and. She took his arm, and they
walked home in silence.
When Emma had taken off her
hings, she sat down in her chair,
mnd looked at the clock.
'You have come home early to
sight," remarked George.
The young wifelooked up into
ser husband's fec; and, with an
pression half niling ar)d half
earful, she ans w ". will con
es tho truthv ; ' have
iven up the experiment. I man
ged to stand it last evening, but
could not bear it through to
ight. When I thought of you
iere all alone, I wanted to be with
on. It didn't seem right. I
iavn't enjoyed myself at all. I
iave no home but this."
"Say you so?" cried George,
noving his chair to his wife's side
and taking one of her hands.
Then let me make my confes
ion. I have stood it not a whit
etter. When I left the house
his evening, I could bear it no
onger. I found 'that this was no
some for me, while my sweet
ife was absent. I thought I
rould walk down by Uncle John's
nd see your face, if possible. ,I
ad gazed uport your empty chair
ill my heart ached." He kissed
er as he spoke, and then added,
rhile she reclined her head upon
s arm, "I have learned a very
ood lesion. Your presence here
like the bursting forth of the
un after a storm ; and if you love
ne as I love you-which, of
ourse, I cannot doubt-my pres
unee may afford some sunlight for
'ou. At all events, our next ex
eriment shall be to that effect.
a ill try and see how much home
omfort we can find while we are
oth here to enjoy it."
Emma was too happy to ex
ress her joy in words ; but she
xpressed it, nevertheless, and in
Smanner, too, not to be mis
The next evening was spent at
ome by both husband and wife,
hnd it was a season of much en
Dyment. In a short time George
~egan to realize how much com
brt was to be found in a quiet and
aceful home ; and the longer
e enjoyed this comfort, the more
plainly did he see and under
tand the simple truth, that it
kes two to make a happy home,
od that if the wife is one party,
he husband must be the other.
A man in Iowa has invented a
annon which he believes will
and a ball fourteen miles. The
all is in seven sections, with six
ses. The power of the cannon
ends the ball humming two
iles from the muzzle, lighting
ize No. 1, which burns to
be power in the ball in
he time the ball travels
mro miles, when an explosion takes
lace wuich sends the ball two
ses further, when fuse No. 2
oes its duty, and propels the ball
mo miles further, and so on to
de end of the fases and the four
The Sioux (Iowa) Times adver
see for two thousand industrious
rw England girls to supply the
[From the New York HeraM.[
the Peo.YNasseliae Element in
smachasetts Still Lives. a
In the .early part of March last
we published an occount of a reg
ular prize fight between two wo
men in the suburbsof Boston. The
details of the affair was shocking to
human nature and disgusting in the
extreme. It was to be hoped that
the notoriety given to the abomi
nable spectacle would have so
shocked the femo-masculine ele
ment in the moral region in which
it occurred as to have deterred it
from encouraging another exhi
bition of the kind. But it seems
that this hope was not to be re
alized. By a dispatch from Spring
field, Mass., received yesterday,
we learn that a prize fight oc
cured near the city, which was
witnessed by three hundred spec
tators, "one-third of whom were
Without stopping to enquire
into the character of the latter
portion of this delectable audience,
we feel justified, in view of the
number of women's rights female
suffrage and other strong-minded
women's conventions recently
held at the "Hub," to put a cer
tain interpretation upon the whole
disgraceful affair. It affords an
other evidence of the downward
tendency of female morality in a
section of the country that has
plumed itself upon its righteous
ness; that has presumed to set
itself up as the exemplar for all
that is chaste, modest, pure and
noble in the feminine character ;
that has sent missionaries among
the benighted heathen, for' the
purpose of proffering the cup of
grace to their lips, and instilling
the sentiments of saintly love and
virtue into their hearts ; that has
filled the schoolhouses of the South
with New England school marma,
to teach the-lttle niggers their A,
B, C's and to.learn them for the
frst tim who their, Makr' was,
as well as to impress upon their
delicate underandings the now
well established axiom that a
white man is as good as a nigger,
if he only behaves himself." Alas !
that it should be so. Alas I that
the sentiments of the noble heart
ed matrons of the Revolution-of
the days of the Adamses, the Han
cocks, the Otises-should be
obliged to give way before .Attil
an.career of a batch ofbespectacled
old spinsters and burnt-grass wid
ows, who are now endeavoring to
mould the pure thoughts of the
young females of the rising gene
ration into a hideon masculinity,
and to encourage them to aspire
to the places and to the preroga
tives, and to don the toggery of
those who, with a few honorable
e;ceptions, are entitled to wear
the breeches in this our day.
Verily, things are looking bad
for morality in Massachusetts.
Suppose Gilmore sets about get
ting up a jubilee in honor of the
return of morality to New Eng
land ? The day may be far dis
tant, but that's no matter. IL
shows the necessity or beginning
the undertaking all the sooner.
Let the rallying cries be "No
more female prize fights in Mas
sachusetts," "Hurrah for the re
turn of moralhty to New England."
Seriously, as the case now stands,
the authorities should take earn
est and decided steps to stop
these inhuman exhibitions-it is
degrading to beasts to call them
beastly-else t h e consequences
will be lamentable not only to the
morals of New England men but
to the virtue of the New England
women of the period. Amen !
HUMILrrY.-Pride and Humility
are the very opposite of each other
Whatever the one denotes, the
other means the very reverse.
Humility is a Christian grace
-pride is the gift of Satan. The
former is an evidence of moral ex
cillency-the latter proves the ex
istence of moral deprasity. Humil
ity is most pleasing God-pride
most hateful. Humility is sub
mission to God and his law-pride
is rebellion against the supreme
ruler of the universe and contempt
for His law and goverment.- The
humble man loves God-the proud
man hates him. Humility is an
evidence of good sense. Pride is
an infallible proof of ignorance.
The wise man is humble on ac
count of his moral poverty and
absolute dependence on his ma
ker and preserver for anything.
The fool is proud of his moral
penry and depravity.
Alikge - Cigars and Grecian
bends, both are manufactured to
The king that Grant is partial
Ifret of KIldness to Aituals.
"I have great faith," says a cor
respondent of the Practical Far
mer, "in the education of ani.
"I believed in the efficacy of the
gentle touch long before I knew
of Rarey's method. His success
has been but a confirmation of my
theory. It may be set down as a
fixed fact that whenever a horse
or a cow or an ox is timid and
shy-will not allow a person to
approach or handle, unless it is so
situated that it cannot escape-a
wrong system of treatment has
been pursued. The animals of
the farmer are naturally disposed
to be docile and affectionate.
recognize the hand and voice of a
friend as soon as a human being
would, and manifest their affec
tion in a variety of ways, which
none but the kind master or
keeper will observe. Have you
not seen teamsters who could
manage their teams by a soft
word far better than others could
do by blows and harsh words ?
Have you not seen a milkmaid
approach a cow with a bucket
without the slightest evidence of
a disposition on the part of the
animal to evade her? And have
you not seen the same cow make
every effort to escape from the
next milkmaid who approaches
her ? 1 have, and the reason was
that the first had always treated
her kindly and gently, while the
latter had pursued the opposite
method. Animals almost invaria
bly partake of the character of
their masters. The kind, gentle,
and considerate master will gene
rally have kind, gentle animals;
while the rude, impetuous and
cruel master will rarely fail
to have animals whose dispo
sitions will mate with his own.
Is not gentleness the true method?
God has given those poor brutes
for our use; they minister to our
wants, are patient and - uncom
plaining, and certainly deserve
such treatment at our hands as
will show that we properly ap
preciate the kindness of the Al
mighty in giving them to us for
the purpose of adding to our com
Wedded Life.-Yashonable Matches.
The daughter marries either
the richest man she can get or
the most fashionable one of her
set, or she is married for her fa
ther's money. Her wardrobe is
the most costly that can be found.
Her honeymoon is passed in cars,
steamboats and hotels, in a whirl
f fatigue and excitement. Not
being able to keep house in the
same style as her father-and
othing less luxurious would suf
ftce her-she goes to a fashionable
oarding house to reside. There
he is surrounded by expensively
ressed idle woman, who seem to
ave no apparent object in life
ut shopping, dressing and gos
iping. She soon makes an inti
ate friend of one of them, and
ommences the same vapid, aim
ess, unsanctified life. Her little
bildren born in this godless ex
stence are left to the charge of
urses, and sometimes escaping
from the vigilance of Bridget or
[isette are seen wanderingaround
he forbidden precincts of the par
lors or halls, with the sacred look
f little criminals evading the
police. No morning and evening
sacrifice of prayer and praise has
Fallen on their ear- a hurried
rayer to nurse, while half asleep,
as they are going to bed, is all
know or have been taught of the
igher duties of life. On Sunday
he caravanseras, the household,
with few exceptions, arise too
ate to attend morning services ;
r if they do, it is only another
inistration at the shrine of fash
on. Dinner on the Sababath is a
ull dress affair, and the conversa
ion is just as worldly as usual.
(Brooklyn (N. .k.) Monthly.
A soldier was going off the field
oo hastily when the provost
"What's the matter ?"
"I am scared, and want to go to
the rear to rally.
Patrick was in charge of a ferr~y
boat. A lady passenger being
fightened by the waves, asked if
"people were ever lost by these
He gave the encouraging reply,
"not often ma'am, we generally
fid them afterwards by draging
I believe there are few thought
ful men who have not come to re
gard as one of the least explicable
among the great riddles of the
earthly economy the rarity of
well-assorted marriages. It might
be so different, one cannot help
thinking. The adaptations for
harmony so wonderful ! The ele
ments of happiness so manifold
and so rich ! Yet how often
how miserably sometimes-it all
miscarries I The waters of Para
dise turned to fountains of bitter
nese-the gifts of Heaven per.
verted to curses upon earth t
I do not mean that there are
few unions yielding reasonable
comfort, friendly relations, a life
free from opensquarrel or secret
heart burning: but I speak of
very marriages, without flaw or
jar--a mating alike of the ma.
terial, with its; intangible affinities
and its wondrous magnetism, and
of the immaterial principle with
infthat survives the death-change.
I speak of a heart-home pervaded
by harmony not only unbroken-.
immutable as that of the spheres;
felt to be so by those whom it
blesses, calms, satisfies; a social
state to which, when man and
woman attain, there remains
nothing in the way of earthly
need or acquisition, save daily
bread, to be coveted or prayed
Some think that, in this trial.
phase of our existence, no such
state of harmony and happiness is
to be found. Among the few who'
do find it none of these skeptics
will have place. No entrance in.
to that temple except for those
who believe t Without faith in
the Good and Beautiful-the Good
that is felt, not seen; the Beautiful
that must be conceived before it
is realised-a man is shut out
from the highest enjoyment.
And such a man can do little to
meliorate the world or elevate his
race.-"Beyond the Breakers," in
Feb. No. of Lippincott'e aMagazine.
Stopped His Paper.
The following anecdote of the
late Mr. Swain, from the Phila
delphia Press, is not without its
moral in other latitudes than
Many years ago, Mr. Swain,
the editor of the Public Ledger,
was hailed at the corner of Eigh
teenth and Chesnut streets by a
very excited individual, who in
formed him in the most excited
terms, "I have stopped your paper,
sir," and proceeded ta explain the
why and wherefore, all the time
gesticulating wildly. "My gra
cious sir, you don't say so. Come
with me to the office, and let us
see if we cannot remedy the mat'
ter. It grieves me that any one
should stop my paper." Down
Chesnut Street to Third the two
proceeded. Arriving at the office,
Mr. Swain said; "Why, my dear
sir, everything seems to be goings
on here as usual: I thought you
had stopped my paper." Then
and there the excited gentleman,
whom the long walk, by the way',
had partly cooled, said that he
had stopped taking his one copy
of the Ledger. Mr. Swain was
profuse in his apologies for having
misunderstood the mieaning of
his late subscriber's words, and
regretted that he had given hiut
the tramp from Eighteenth street
to Third, down Chesnut, The
gentleman went on his way a
wiser if not a better man, mai'9
velhng at the stupidity of editors
in general, and of Mr. Swain its
particular. Before he left, ho*
ever, he ordered that the Ledg'er
be still sent to his address.
"Tommy, my son, fetch in a
stick of wood."
"Ah! my dear mother," resa
ponded the. youth "the grammat
ical portion of your education has
been sadly neglected. You should
have said-Thomas, my son, trans
port from that reeum bent collection
of combustible material upon the
threshold of this edifice, one of the
curtailed excrescences of a defunot
Low spirits cannot exist.in the
atmosphere of bodily and mental
The first bus in America was
An undignified king-jo-king
An unprofessional fee-cof-fee.
Modern backgammon-the Gre,
A popular tea with young ladies
Sentimental bathings-Oyes swim.
wing in tear"s,