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A Family Coipanion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Vol. X. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JUNE 1, 1874. No. 24.
EVERY WEDNESDAY MO-NING,
At Newberry C. 1U.,
BY THOS. F. GRENEKER,
Editor and Proprietor.
Terms, $2.50 per .nrum,
Invariably in Advance.
(7- The per is stopped at the expiration of
time for wih it is paid.
27 The X mark denotes expiration of sub
'A Pike County View of Special Providence.]
I don't go much on religion.
I n.ever ain't had no show;
Bat I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir,
On the handful o' things I know.
I don't pan out on the prophets
And free will. and that sort of thing
But I b'lieve in God and the angels,
Ever sence one night last spring.
I come into town with some turnips,
And my litttle Gabe come along
No four-yezr-old in the county
Could beat him for pretty and strong.
Peart and chipper and sassy.
Allgs ready to swear and fight
And I'd lara't him to chaw terbacker,
Just to keep hi6 milk-teeth white.
The snew come down like a blanket
As I passed by Taggart's storei
I went in for a jug of molasses
And left the team at the door.
They scared at something and started- K
I heard one little squall,
And bell-to-split over the prairie
Went team, Little Breeches and all.
Hell-to-split over the prairie!
I was almost froze with skeer:
But we roastel up some torche;,
And sarched for 'em far and near.
At last we struck hosses and iwa:on,
Snowed under a soft wbite mounad.
,Upoead- beat-bat of little Gabe c
No hide nor hair was found.
And here all hope soured on me,
4f.my fellow-critters' aid
Ijest flopped down on my marrow-bones,
Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed.
By &S;tie^torches was played out,
And me and Isrul Parr f
Went off for some wood to a sheep-fold
That he sai i was somewhar thar.
crfouW-d..iat last, and a little shed P
Wherehely sAut up the lambf at night,
WO,Joked in,and seen them hud lled thar,
So warm and sleepy and white.
And THAa.sot Little Breeches an i chirped
As peart as everyou see
"I want a chawv of teroacker,
And that's what's the m:atter of ine."
Bo d it thar? Angels.
ndEcedoki never have waliked in that storm.
They jeat teooped down m :ttid toted hien
To whar it was s.ife and warm.
And L think that saving a li-tie child,
O Arx bringing.him to his own,
Is a derned sight bet ter b'tsiness
fhan loafing around Thme Throne.t
B BOLT AND SWEET ALIOE.1
BY AMANDA MINNIE DoUGL.\ss. C
'~i;don''t you rememiber sweet Alice, Ben
Sweet Altice, whose hair was so brown
Wo hblshe with delight when you gave
her a smile,
KX(drembld with fear at your frown? (
In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben
B olt, .
In a corner secluded and lone,
'they have fitted a slab of granite, so gray,
And sweet Alice lies under the stone.
Don't you remember ? Are those
hremagic words-akey wherewith
'sve ma.sy unlock the flood-gates of
the heart, and send the sweet wat
ters of the past over the plains and
..iown the hills of the fair land
known ini our heart's experience as
Y>y-gon?? Even so. There rises be
fore s vii,ions of a tim~e when the
bright, deep eyes of the young
spring gazed -sh-11y at us frous be
neaththe ermined mantle '-f winter
-whar the blue viole-ts stole
first tints from the blue sky above ;
when the cowslips of May. And the
goldezi-hearted butter-cups ft r s t
jeweled the slender blades of grass;
and the hawthorn grew white with
its blossoms ; when we roamed the
woods the whole of that long, warm,
-Junte,holiday, weaving garlands and
listening to the concert of birds in
that dark, mistletoe-wreathed oaken
forest. There wats one in years
agone that prayed-"Lord keep my 1
memory gr-een," and the clinging
tendrils of our hear-ts ar,s yearning
to this prayer.
B ut green and fresh as the poet's
prayer, had the heart of Ben Bolt
been kepte-from his eary boyhood
to the hour he sat by his o la friend.
and listened to the song of by-gone
days. Not "through a glass. dark
11." did he review those seen, E of1
the past, but it was the going l ac
of the boy-heart to other hearts Of
There w~as a little red school j
house with its dusty windows, and f
dsk&~that.ldbeen knicked many
a time, trying pen-knives; its tall t
stern looking teacher, whose heavy
voice caused the younger ones toj
tremble; its rows of boys and girls
with their beads bent attentively
downward to their books and slates.
The-viter wind sang and whistled1
without, andi though some few chil-.
dish hearts tried to find words for
its mournful notes they were too
-onng and happy to know that it t
carried desolation and heart-ace in1
its wail; yet did they learn it inf
after days. s
Then there came a few light,
round! snow-balls, so tiny that it
must have been the sport of the
storm spirits in the eldrich revels,
- -changing by and by to feather1
-y '~~pq flint danessl abont ~v~r a'
-ides down hill, and the snow balJ
ng that would make the plx
!round ring again. The last lessonl
vere said, books put aside. and ii
lace of the silence reigned gav
,lad voices. Kate Ashley threN
>aek her jetty ringlets. and laugh
.d through her spark-ing eyes. a:
;he gavc Jamio Marvin that bit o
curl he had teased for so long,
>ecause she knew that Jamie hat
;he prettiest sled in the whol
chool. Ah, a bit of a coquette wai
;hat same gleeful, romping Kate
ad there was Sophie Dale, :ookinc
6s demure as a kitten walking fron
pan of new milk, and playful as i
:itten too, was she, in spite of he]
juiet looks; and the stately Eliza
)eth-Queen Bess they call her
nd I question if England's Quee1
1ad haughtier carriage: but apar
rom those who were eagerly lool
or by friends to take them home
tood Alice May-sweet Alice.
Tery beautiful and lovable was she
vith her winsome. childish face
>lue eyes. and soft, brown curls.
1he was delicate and fragile, yoi
aight almost fancy her a little snov
hild, or a lost fairy babe.
Nearly all the children had de
arted, amid the joyful shouts and
ingling bells, but yet the sweet lit
[e child alone, until a rich bovisl.
oice, startled her by saying:
"No one goes your way, Alice. dc
_No, I gness not, Ben.' she re
lied, in her fine snow-bird likt
'Well, the snow is t!o deep for
on to walk, so I guess I will carrY
"Oh, no, Tn to.) heavy to be car
ied so far," and she langhed s
>w and sweetly.
"Hcavy: no, you're just like this
e-own. or a snow flak'. Ally ; 1
old carry Von to> En0ald 1and(l
ack again, withoat being at all fa
igued:" and he tossed the littl
irl in his arms.
"Io, no, the boys will laugh ai
ou, Ben," and she struggled.
'What do I care ? they ma3
mgh at Ben Bolt as much as the3
ke," and the brave boy drew him
elf up proudly. and pushed th<
hesnut curls from his broad, fail
:rehead; "but I do not mean t<
righten you, Alice," he continued
s he saw how the little girl trem
So she put on her bonnet ani
loak. and he took her in his arms a;
f she had been a bird, while th<
ttle tiny thing nestled down or
is shoulder, as he went stumblin;
hrough the snow, saymng gay pleas
.nt things, that made the shy littli
irl laugh, and when, at length, hi
pened her mother's cottage door
ie stood'ou the floor, saying, "There
~Irs. May, I brought Alice home
est she should get buried in a snos
ank; she's such a weeny littl
;hing;" and before Mrs. May, coul
thank him, he was out of sight.
But the winter began to wane
mad now then a soft, mild da2
yould come that lessened the pyre
nid andi snow house materially.
'Such a pity," they said, and wish
'4 winter would last always; bu
here was oije little wren-like voic
ha p d~> for' violets and blu
The pyramid tum2bled down, th
now house grew thinnJ~ and thu
Ler, and the boys jested abCnt it
~eing in a decline, till one day
isappeared-faded away like s
aany of their childish hopes.
The glad spring came with it
arks and daisies, and one deligh
u day the children went a Maying
tata Ashley was Queen, and
rilint Queen she was too, hu
sen Bolt gathered white violet:
and braided them in the soft curl
f Alice, and told her she was swee
yr and dearer than a thousand Me
ueens like Kate. Child as si
.as, his words made the sunshin:
>righter, and lent enchantment t
the atmosphere of her existence.
The long JIune day came, enell
jg the green earth with a cor
roses. and making it redolei
.t < ume ; and in the war:
one h.~ r the children strolle
lie hill, andi cluste
Sthe foot of L , .ve .W c
g~ together-to' tre.o
ish hopes of the
ired by ambition; soi
f quiet country repose.
ay' city life :but there W
'hose eye kindled and young la
ushed with enthusiasm, as 11
oke of the sparkling blue wat ers
ad the brave ships that breasted
iem so gallantly.
Ben Bolt was going to sea. Cap
sig Shirley, as generous. whole
ul being as ever trod the deck
as to take him under his protec
on the next five years. Thern
ere exclamations of surprise and
>rrow from the children; haunts
ere visited and revisited: they
Lt down in. the shade of the olh
Ramore, an.d listened to the musi
d murmur of the brook, and the
exchanged keepsakes. and promi d
to remember the merry, brave
s hearted boy, whose home wonid be
I the wide. blue ocean.
Alice May seldom joined them.
I She was so delicate and tiaid. and
the thought of Ben's departure fill
s ed her eves with tears. so she wonld
f stval away alone, fearful of the ridi
cule of her hardier companions.
1 But one night Ben camne to Mrs.
May's cottage. to bid them good
bye. Alice stood by the windows
watching the stars, wondering what
made them so di.n-niiv(-r tiinking
of the tears that dinuned her eyes.
Ias Ben told over his hopes so joy
fully. She could not pat with him
- there, so she walked through the
little door-yard, and stood beside
the gate. looking like a golden
' crowned angel in the yellow moon
light; and when lie told ever again
- how large she would be on his re
- turn, that he would not dare to call
her his little Alice then, as lie look
ed back lingeringly. she laid
i soft brown curl in his hand, saying:
L "I have kept it for you this long,
long time. Ben : ever since you
brought me home through the
snow. do you remember ?*
He did remember, and with one
passionate burst of grief. he pressed
the little girl to his bosom. and the
brave hearted boy sobbed the fare
>well he could find *o words for.
But five years are not always a
life-time. True, it was snch to the
qiet. thoughtful Charlie Allen.
whose large. dark eyes ha. stolen
brilliancv from his book, and tle
langhing, Belle Archer -Iioth were
laid to sleep in the old chnreh yard,
when the night stars shone on their
raves. Others went out to seek
a forn- in the gay world. and
- s1me grew into miniiature n-n
u1( wom( Inby llir own swvet fire
I )s :- bt Ali-. May s*:ne sti
a ehild. Yet she was taller. aid
he sligh fr more gr e4ily d
Veloped : but there was the saml!e
angel looking through her eyes as
had watched there in the olden
days. She stayed at home now. to
assist her mother in se,ving, their
chief support; but she was the
s:iue shy. sweet Alice that Ber
Bolt had carried through the snow.
Ben Bolt came back. How
strange that five years should have
Sp:assed so quickly and stranger still
that this tall, handsome sailor.
lwhose voice was so full and rich,
Sshould be Ben Bolt. Kate Ashley
Swas not thinking of the sweet Sab
ibath rest, as the chime of the church
Sbell floated through the village:
- there she stood before her mir.ror.
3 arranging her shining curls, and
Sfastening her dainty bonnet, with
, its white ribbons dropping blue
bells, thinking if she could not fas
, cinate Ben with her sparkling eyes,
7 wudbe delightful to have his
e chief attention during his stay.
I He thought she did look very
graceful as lie sat before service,
, looking on olden faces-but therE
Swas a fairer one than her's he fan
e- cied, as he saw the sweet face od
- Alice May, with the half-closed eyes,
tand long, golden-edged lashes.
t shadowing the pale cheek. He car.
e red in his bosom a curl like the
e one nestlinig so softly by her tem
ple. and it a talisman, keeping hir
e from the enchantment of othe2
s When the service was closed, Ber
t Bolt was thronged about by olk
fam1liar1 faces-they had so muel
to say, .5o many things to speak of
s so much joy to express at his saff
return, that it well nigh bewilderei
- him. It was very pleasant to be s(
a warmly welcomed by old friends
.t delightful to ehat of by.gones: ant
.it w~as indeed a Sabbath of joy t<
s Ben Bole:.
t-Sweet Alice ! Ah,. howv long an(
Iweary the time had been to) her.
e Sometimes her heart died within lie:
eas she thou ghit of the broad ocean
>but when she looked so shyly at Bec
that morn. anid saw how hau dsonm
-lhe had grown,.a heart sickness cai
-over her, and the sarshine fell ona
it dimly on the grass at her feet. Shi
n knew she had hidden away to ti~
a depths of her pure heart. a wild
-earthly love aind she strove to pu
1- it from her, for wedld he think o
eher now ? So it was no e d sTh
d shil slip her slender hand in he
>mother's and mteal gnietly froml th
e joyou throng.
SIt was Sabbath eve-one of thoc,
n4eY ynoonlight evenings of th
~d saiiier ; Mrs. May ha<
aet p si/4 neighbor,an
one to te w.ndow with th
Alice sat by ' h-r slender whit
Bible open, anc words fallir,
igers pointing to t~
musically from her lips
'And there shall be no
there; and they shall need no cani4
neither light of the sun ; for the
Lord God giveth them light, and
Ithey shall reign for ever and eve'
S he looked tremnblingly upward it
- the moonlight, for close beside hea
knelt the manly form of Ben Bolt
Ther was told a sweet story o
love and hope. not the less sweet
for being the lana of evey
hunian heart. and the tiny hands of
sweet Alice were folded in his as
she said very low and sweetly: "If
I live. Ben. wlin five vears mere
have passed and Von return a second
Sha did not finish if-it was
So they plighted their troth that
cail holy Sabbath eveninig. and
the buoyant. heart of Ben, in its
gushing sunniness, pictured radiant
hopes for the fture. He was young
and so fill of vitality-every pulse
of his heart was beating gladly. and
the coiming five years were more
precious to him than all the past.
"If we both live, Ben, God will
have us in his holy keeping." she
said in auswer to his parting words:
but as he pressed her convulsively
to his beating heart he replied:
-God will he merciful to us wh:
love so dearly. Alice darling.
She knew it, but she knew also
that. God did not alway auswer
the prayer falling from th hopeful
lis. Sweet Alice! and down the
futur looked tremblingly, and
saw the iragile form1 and spiritual
face. with lilies braided in the soft.
hro wn hair.r eyes grew dim with
tvars. for she knew not if it was a
br1Ld or a burial. fV>r close beside
the uahar w.as a grave yard.
The w(re nut wanlting who
wOiIdertd at 1en Bolt's choice.an1d
thoaugIt it stralnge le should t:tke
and My-, 1i preferenice to thp fairest
aNd ie . So:e ther-e were
who held thir heads loftily when
they pasL.. hat her heart was
away oil tile bhne waters. an( slh
heeded it not.
How she wvatched the days in
their pssin.she notIed low the
slmer wanl-h the tiolc of
sunlf'iht-she heard the gl voie-s
of t I ;t i rs: all(l w:.en ihe i l -avs
Wel taing. the llercI chiWz-(eL
gatherii in tile woods : tien the
nlO10(.4uss snow fell and lav on the
hillside is in the olden days until
the genial spriig-tide sun melted it
awax, and the violets and hair-bells
dottld ;he fields-so passed a year.
She was growing fairer and inore
beautiful-too brilliant for anything
earthly. Once she knelt at the altar
in the little church, and listened to
the words uniting her with tie
Savior's redeemed on earth. bhat it
was only an outward form. for her
heart had long been in the keeping
of angels. Again she watched the
wvaning of the summuer days, andi
wvhen the soft wind swept over the
silvery rye fields, she thought of the
sea afar. with its broad waves.Al
through the winter days she gren
more spiritual in her beauty. and
the slender white hands were ofter
folded on her breast, as she prayed
for those who would soon be lefi
desolate : for she knew she wvas
It did not startle her, she had
Ifelt long ago that the fair greer
ear th would hold her pulseless hear1
crc it had left the cloister of girl
hood. Life was sweet and beautiful
yet in her sinlennmess, death had n<
agony, save her sorrow for thos<
left in loneliness. It was only
little way to the land of rest, and
her feet had never grown weary
vet shen longed to look once mort
upon1 the flowers, and have then:
hridedh c in her hair, and so sh<
lingered on until the voice of sprint
was heard on the hill top)s.
One morning when viewless handu
were gathering back the misty car
tain of the night, and the starm
grew dim in the glory of earla
morn. sweet Alice stood on th<
thr eshold of Paradise. and th<
gfolde gate:ds were opened to th<
fair, imeek girl. There trembliled 01
herilips a prayer and a blessing fo:
Be~n Bolt and her nmotheor. giving
raidiance to thet fair. dead face. anc
they braided spring flowers in lie:
wvy, browni hair.
Tihe church bell chimjed softly t<
the. few~ years earth had clainget
-the'~ sanless soul of Alice May. ai:
they brought the cohin in the little
old chnrehi. Howv beautiful slit
-lookedu in her white burial robeC
toO f.tir and sw~eet for death : toi
-holv. had1 there not bee-n a resurree
tionbey. Close bes5ide her
sto1od the friends of her girlbmoot
aingi' on1 that youngit face. :s the:
v;oulid fain call her back to life. an<
-it. sweet love. So they laid swee
IAlice to' sleep in the old uhnreb~
1yard. and those who had looket
coldly on her. took to their sorrow
ing hearts a sweet memory of tl
There was; agony too deep Lo
t terancee when the strong, ardeni
hearted man, whose guiding sta
a-~ been the love of that sweet gi
'back to find the cottage homn
came and Alice sleeping b<
desolate, stone in the churcl:
*neath a gray
But God and Time' a h meci
an as years passed aw'7 ..e caf
t> think of her as garlanded as the
gold(-n fruitage of Eden land.
This was the memory that his
friend sang of. as they sat in the
s-ulinner twilight years afterward.
and talked of the faces that had
glimmered and faed in their early
pathway. how, of all the glad hearts
of childhood had clustered togeth
er only they two were left. Some
slept in the tremulous ocean : some
inl the jillu depths: others inl the
forest shade, and beneath the wav
ing prairie grass. Some there
were who slept peacefully in the
green old church-yard, and amoig
these the fairest andl best was
"sweet Alice." Ah. he ?ould nev, r
have forgotten that.
Years afterward. they laid Ben
Bolt, to sleep by the side of "sweet
AM ItICA PItEVIOUS TO ITS
DISCOVEtY BY CIIRISTO
PILER COL MBUS.
Hon. George S. Boutwell, of
Mass., in a lecture, began by stating
that America must have been known
to the ancients ; but that, on ac
couniit of the difficulties which then
existed of interchanging ideas ard
preserving thema, a link had evi
dently been dropped in the great
chain of evidence which has been
since taken u1p. without, however,
efl*ectnig a satisfactorv conniectionl.
From evi(h.nces which have been
coi!ated, and e:camined by scientifiC
m11-n, we can safely affirm that all
parts of the world were populated
as sol as they became inhabitable.
Aiter giving some theories about
thk divisions of the human family
b).se on the color of the conI
)!-xiou. the formation of the body
And the growth of the hair. the
spcsaker proceded to prove that
fni the specimens of architecture
and miinng which have been dis
eovered on this continent we can
natnrally infer that the ci-:ilization
of the old countries was transplant
e.1 here at an early date. In the
vicinity of Vera Cruz,. in Mexico,
there are to be found the ruins of
cities and town buried beneath the
earth which give evidences of an
enlightened civilization and which
silently wait for an interpreter to
ehronicle their history. In Califor
nia. there are extensive mines, at
the. bottom of which have beenf
found specimens of human b)ones
and altars for wvorship, whose for
Imation plainly indicate that they
were (:rected by Europeans. In the
Lake Superior regions, too. mines
Ihave been discovered which show
unmistakable signs -of European
skill, eqnal if not superior to that
which now exists.
Mr. Boutwell gave three reasons
for the belief that the population
of America was not indigenous, and
that this continent wvas visited by
Eastern mariners at an early age of
the world's history. The sp)hericity
of the earth was known in the time of
Herodotus, and taught by his dis
ciples: it was handed down from
generation to generation so that
Columbus mnade it the basis of his
theory. The mariner's compass is
not a new invention b)ut belongs al
so to the ancients. Herodotus, in
his history, alludes to an instrument
in the possession of the Indians.
which always pointed due north.
andl it is a matter of history that in
the fourth centiury of our era the
Chinese mariners used the magnet
ic needle. Then, again, the enter
prise of the ancient mariners was
equal to a p)assage over the Atlantic
or Patcific Ocean. In the sixth cen
tury, the Phoenicians had so far pro
gresed in the knowledge of navi
ga"tion that they occupied the Black
Sea. the Mediterranean. and even
as fa a *s the Baltic Sea: they be
comec familiar with the p)ags
inlto the Indian Ocean ;had ob)tain
ed possession of ports along th~
costs.and were famiiar with the tides
and changes of the sea. Their ships
were known to bme away for three
years at a time, and as theyv had so
far perfected navigation as b- be
able to sail 158 miles per day, the
distance which they~ could travel in
a three-years crnise must have been
considerable. Their great success
Iwas i voyages after silver an i golic
.and as the mines of Spain and Eng
lnd con1ld riot possibly yield th<
larg-e supply which they constantll
eNhibited we can easily infer tha
another and a more prolific lani
had been discovered, whose exist
ance they were unwilling to disclosc
lest its treasures should be utilizei
by their neighbors. It is wel
known they made their ordinar:
drinking-vessels, and even the anch
!ors of their ships from silver, anm
this further proves that they ha<t
more extensive mines than thos,
which existed in Spain and Afri
LHe further proved the possibilit;
e o thes hardy mariners havinm
reached the Amerlin ((-ast. fro i
the fact that varions instantes <
sea-faring men having. bt-en carri
by the currents and deposited c
islands inl the Pacitie Ocean. exi
ted. We are also Avd to belim
that the Old World contributed ti
inhabitants of the western hemi
phie.e,froill the fatt that there is
striking similarity betwcen the A
afic and the kncric:n aborigil
TheI)omhern portim 1Af AsiA thiek
poutdby an iladr!i5 n ep
while the n.rth11 is ov'.1mI I)v sa
ag( holdeS who live in a nomad
life. which womld indleatu- imriigr
tion prevailed in that suction: an.
as the distance to the northei
shores of the American continel
is but short, it is clear that the e
odis was in that direction. Ti
inhabitants of the same degrees
laticade in both continents have tl
Samlie cllstloii and manuels, anJ a:
con:sequently of the same extra
A Kansas paper gives the follo,
ing report of a judge's sentene
lately passed on a criminal : "Bru
lev. vou infamous scoundrel! You':
an unredeemed villian : You hair
a single redeeming trait in yoi
character. Your wife and fami
wish we had sent you to the per
ten4tiary. This is the rifth time P
had you before me. and you ha
pIt me to more tronble than yoi
neck is worth. I've exhorted a!
prayed over you long enough. vt
counidrel: Just go home and ta]
a glimpse at your faily. and be
il short order: Don't let's ev
here of you again: The grand ja
have found two othir indictmei
against you. buit Ill discharge y
on your own recoNizanices. and
I keteh von in this nick of woods 1
m1orroW Imorn'ling at daylight. I
sock you right squ.re in jail a1
hump you oly to Jeffersonville
less thanl no time. vol infamo
Pscoundrel ! If ever I catch v,
crossing your filger at a man. N
man or child-white man or nigg
-I'll sock vou right square in
the jug ! Stand up, you scoundir
while I pass sentence on yon 1
A CUTE Cix,K.-It is related tL
a dry goods merchant was ve
hard on his clerks, and when a v
itor left the store without a pu
chase lie would discharge the clei
He took up a position near t
door', and as customers p)assed o
would inquire if they had be
properly served. On or.e occasi,
a lady was negotiating with a ele
for a shawl. but the sale was r
made. The clerk called the lady's:
tention to the old gentleman, w:
was as usual standing near the do<
waiting to wayliay the lady with t
customary questions. "Thatc
man," said the clerk, -is crazy.
He may attempt to stop you as y
go out and you had best avoid hi
as he is sometimes dangeroun
The lady started for the door. al
as the old gentleman approach
her. gave a shriek and da: ted o
The merchant was greatly astoni.
ed. and, walkii.g back to tihe ele
asked. "Do yon know that lady
--No ir'.' replied the c'lerk -but
thtink she is crazy" "You are righ~
returned the old gentleman, 's
must be crazy."
A minister met a ragged iad
the streets of Jersey city, the oti
day, thinking to learn something
his circumstances. and perhaps y
him into Sunday School, also ir
a more decent suit of clothes. ask
-"Iy little fellow, where is yc
--Dead. long ago," was the rep
"Where is your mother ?"
"She got married again and s1e
edl out West."
"And wvhere do you live f
"What. have von no one to lo
out for you -"
-Not mnelh, only the copis (poli'
I looks out for myi~self "
"--Well. are'L you not very' unhiapi
*miy boy) !"
--nhappy : Gus not. Giot
hul paper of tobacker, ten eenl
three bully cigar buts, and' I ji
know how I'm going to crawl urnd
Barnum's circus tent ter nite,:
se the show for nothin.' *Unhapl
Gve me teln pence, old man. a:
Ill turn yon a hand spring. ai
stand on my head and chaw toba<
The minister passed on his
with new food for retiection.
It is announced as an evidence
American influence overEnl
taste that felt hats are worn fori
first time in the House of Comnmo
Farmers gather what they s<
while the seamstresses sew wi
An unpieasant sort of' arithi
ai-Divisi- -am g families.
eA. !>. L:U a t.jin in V s
1!:J xvi sil0n, In Fi
ii LIo 1ne phasanIt August atfter
n); . hi LoughILtS intent uponl his I
unhiy .re'n.1ad his mni;d
ithraw fr.om earthly ':arts.
wh'11 his t r::r; o thought was
rol-iy i ere.-ted by 1 1.e ft')n!i,
h. Nk-ll10. where aro you
yord !:ht to have b-en there t
ad r.tilyt! ''V;Oon he heard his daIuh
an S\. ;ol,I,, tio -1
I that youI, .M .:ie U
--Y c e d)wn quick. I've got
omething to tell you.
Il be there iI half a ji ffy.'
Then a door opened and shut,
An in a few minutes
Whnt do yoN think, as I was
e cing' over h.2. jher was just
ithe stuningLt fellow. r~ight in
front o ie. Ju1ut as I go oppo
site tle nW1-V chure . n1v mu11sie
V- roll sliped and eLy paper in it
e. fell out on the sidlewall.
a Gncr:ious I shoul i have been
It "And so I was, but it was so
r r i diculou.s tiat I almost died a
Well. that tellow, do yon think.
' 1tOped. turned round, and helped
;e me to pick theml up. I was all
ir bunky dory, then. lie walked as
ia far a 'Lere with m1e. and I thL.k
All Cd hiim, of course ete., et'. "You
eknow hil--ow 'tis Voirself.0
>ff The goi doctor sra;cLced his
Or head. Culd that '. his Nelie,
,y whoml he thought so lady-liku?
ts I ie 0peILCd thu door 6oftly, a little
n crack, think inz no doubt. that he
if hi.1 a r ight to liay th: paL lf
0- li,ener t.0 o rangel lIXed a.
1! coveraLtion.nd ini his UWn Ilouie
d c:rv sooll it waIS co nno-d. f his
in time llhis daughter com:i-ineCd the
iis conIIvecrsatio n.
m "There. how's that for hi!h h
-- "Oh. isn't that sweet,how much
ar was it?"
to "Only fi v c dollars - c b e a p
"Yes, indeed ; but you said you
were going to have pilk. this is
Never mind, it's all the same
- in Dutch."
r The doctor peeped in to see what
they were talking about-and Miss
10e Nelic was exhibiting her new
at bonnkt to the admiring gaze of her
)fn "It's rag'ing hot here."
rk WelI dXon't know as enn
ot make it any cooler." sail Nellie
it- looking round. "I 'spose father'd
10 kill me if I opened the door." Her
>r fther had requested her the day
he beforeo to keep the door closed.
'l Irguess it's time for- me to ab
- squatulate," said Magie, risinLg.
o "o't tear yourself away. Arce
mI you going to the lecture to
d: -Yes, I had a staring? old time
edl last Tuesday night."
It. "George Saunders said lie should
hl- Lohoe( it younto-nih.
Th lat's so. If there is anything~
tI hate 'tis the -boys bothering
he0 round;- they ought to be put into
a barrel and fed thr-ough the
,bung-h1'ole, until they arec old
in enough to behave."
er~ " must bid you a fond adieu,
DInow. I've grot thLousands of' er
et r-nd to do.
.to 'Well good-by."
ed Oh, the Dickens. I've left my
ur L.Iere it is."
"Nw,god.y he 'sure and
p r~Tn the door c,losed andi Nellie
The doctor wais surpr-ised, but
110t too) much so not to thinLk of a
tunaite habit i nt o) whiebi his
daug LIhter had falh-n. The planI
wasi' di%cussedl with the youngr la
Idy's mother andL adLopted. The
toneC for tea had arrived. and L when
a all were fairly seated at the table.
st ou ha,ve someLL tea Y
CI In half a jiffy, matiami.'
Ne ~ollie looked up, but hem- father
took no nlotie.
a llyI this cake is quite stun
IJust then his napkin fell to the
floor. "Gracious, Vnm condumib-i
founded ?" ejaculhated the doctor,I
getting it a little wrong. Nellie
of gazed at her father in perfect
he "My dear, this sauce is staving.
ns. Where did you buy it ?"
"Im made it," said his wife cool
tat I"Oh, well,it's all the same in Ger
Nellie dropped her knife and
"You must give me some mon
aid Mr. fHall.
XY :ill hav, I, speIl abilitY'
Irst. grow t h ditor. sSVafe
T'hen sudnytakt:g t Is
IT leiI. I !)V
,reendous. bl-ow. IiTh~e, sail
ie. "how's that for0 high ?"'
"f know h w ' 1 n.vs)lf.' m -nk
he cllimnx. The k that
merC!no(i'.)f VInL oner !u) wa.- too
nu--1h 1'or -N i. S e b r t n 0
ud. a . wl.tn !Shec. g)t out oi
e in2 exci:aned, 'te. . wif'e.
CI!S we shall har no more
dang phrase fiom her."
he dQOtr was right. for -Neilic
>oCL n'atm- a!tv man over' for.
v. He bristles with habits ais
lish youug ladies do with an
D-o i t m-e!Ty the li vey man.
Don't marry a mr a who stop
your mouth with Coml,imnts,
rakes desnerato love to tN C
first time he zCS you, aIId
talks about kissing. That ma
thinks women are fools: but he ic
Dlon'tL arv a nan who tell:
wonidel-rfil St.oriCS of, whicbI hre i5
aways the lern. and in whicl It
extraurdirnary wit, or sagacity, o1
courage, or lleele o mind
these (u.alities not being as a rule
Dmn't marry a man who has
grea-:t mrany -Sters-. Su:ch a mmi
is niwxays ,poil besid which i
is not lea ant tu be ngaged to
maln Who knows all about vou
falso hair, and h( %w nmeh vo:1
dress cost a yard. No woman eai
ever be an iden! divinity to a 1ma
who has a whole squadroin of sis
Don't marry a man who say
every wolnan ought to know hov
Don't marry a ian who keep
bull dogs. li is sure to be lik,
Doln't marTy a man whom no
body ever sayv.: any evil of. I.
SUrne that he is a poor creat ure.
Doen't marr-y a man who
invents thring"s. In vention is th
Don't marry a good-nature
manm. G;ood-natur-e is to a ma
what the gilt lea naughty boy
sometimes adorn a sparro;v wit
is to that tunhappy bird. All tb
other sparrows ge-t round him an,
peek at him.
Not long since a very nervon
lady took passage at the Tip-To
House to descend by the abQos
perpendicular railroad. Her fear
were aippar-ent to evry one. an,
the following iunigne dialogue too:
placc between her and the corndut
Lady-"-Mr. Conductor-. how ai
you hold these cars whe-n you wan
to make a stopr?
Conductor--Madamu we app)l
the brake. which von see there.'
Lady---Suppose. Mi-. Conducto:
that b)rakce shoild give way-. wha
do von do then ('
Conductor-- Madam~ we then ai:
ply the double acting h. rake. whiel
you seeC at the other end of thr
Lady-aBut. Mr. Conductor. sui:
pose that brake should not be suff
cient to check the ears. where wil
we go to then ?!
Conductor----Madam, I (cant de
cide. That dependstl entirely upo
how o hiave lived inl this world
TI f lount owe- theC piniIter any
th;ing the: e is no d-wger.
A wide-awake minister, who foun<
is c(ongregation gog to slh+(p b.
fre he had fairly ' commence . su
delyll stoppedl andi exclaimeld:
till I get alonffg. and then if T airn
w. rth listening to, go to sleep
buit don')t b)efor-e I commence-gir
a man a chance
.A Frenchman being about t<
miove his shop1. his landllor-d enquit
n-i t rason. stating at the sama
time that it was considered a goo,
stand for business. The Frenc1:
man repliede "yes, he's a very goo
stand for ze busin?ess. Me stand a
day ; nobody come to make m
When Arthur was a very sma
boy his mother reprimanded hin
one day for some misdemeano:
Not knowing it his father bega
to talk to him on the same sul
ject. Looking up into his fac<
Arthu;i said solemnly, "My mothe
a 'tetded to me."
Advertizemcnts inserted at the rate of $1.00
per square-onc inch-for first insertion, at,d
73e. for each sutsequcnt insertion. Double
column advertisements ten per cent on above.
Notices of meetings, obituaries and tributes
of respecr, same rates per square as ordinaiy
Special notices in local column 20 cents
Advertiszments not marked with the num
ber of insertions will be kept in till for-id
aud charged accordingly.
Special contracts made with large adver
tisers, with liberal deductious on a tove ratt s.
Done with Nestness and Dispatch.
M11. JONES'S LOVE-LETTER.
A young rman. whom we w:ll
call Diy Jones, could be seen at
1he post-05iee, a few days ago.
ho:I- I to a crowd of friends
1,'the :oul-inspiring letter which
hie wonld son receive from his
Diu!cinen. The mail-bag distribn
td. Mir. Jones hurriedl y eek-'i
ils box. there. befbra him11. to
his~ hear' Ls delig~ht, W.s the longed
for. whLite-wingcd messenger, bear
' Lhe weli-known,initials of his
'i:niet :ail correspondIent. Desiring
:o Hw tae productions of* her
probfV Lcaglination to a Couple
f hs .imate fricnds, he sat
down on the stair-wav in the
post-offlee and broke the letter
open. I bewildered countenance
plainiy sWedl that something
Was not exactlv right, and folding
t u). he gave it to o:e Cf his Con.
pauions to read. That corm panion1
has kinly furnished us with the
following copy :
October 6. 1S73.
MY DARLING; BROTiHER: I have
just written Bil!y the spooniest
lettr i"Ver pcnned by a :i!l "i
tO I molnstruck youth. I dislike
tO Con!iri"u c'orrCspouding with
bn v hile you str'Cnuouny opp,-s
th nonscnsical answers
to my fish ltters nffOrd me so
0 eh i ausemenit tht 1 canno
v it up at present. I write him
pa 'o the m.ost familar quota
",z From Shakezpeare. and he
thik, i, fill origia; v:!th noe.
Us oV*ew mypn. inmr
pracitic:al, you must r'emember
that I um twen)ty-five years of age,
-with' nthing to support me, and
n.r l ~ it pospects of ge'tting
maied.Ici True. Mr. - nd my
sa are engaged but he is too slow,
Hnd I fear he wvillI eventually
sever ouri association. If I thougtt
so)n haw nA o favorable opportu
llity of doing better, 1 believe 1.
*wou'ld mnarry Billy as the last ye
ort Y ou nmust admit that he is
a young~ main of somte ability, how
ever lmted that may be. and his
s prospe'ns of making a living. at
l e"st, arie pretty good, con.sidering
the times and his childishness; af
t ai few years of' contact with
this~ working-day world, [ think
Bil wil be somnethling. and if
not. hi~ submnissive disp)osition and
genuine~l affection fur me are comn
mc ndalel qualities in his composi
Ition.Now, brother-, give
eI me y'our consent to keep~ Billy on
handl until I am sure what course
Mr. will pursue in relation
to our engagement. if you can
spare fdfty cents, please send it to
me, so I can have a gem taken of
eme for Billy's watchease.
Your ioving sister.
......now went to his box again,
an?d rneeivd a p)ostal card bear
ing the following brief and ex
DnMa Bana:Isent you broth
er' s lttr through mistake. Mail
itt himn in immediately,
and he w:il send you yours.
Your s weet ch uck. -
Bill i s now in a quandary in
re'ltion to the course to be par.
s ued by him in the future.
The. editor ,f the Danbury News
ask :Caa tile watermelon be sue
t essfuiy cultivated on sandy soil,
in a rural town of 4.000 inhabit
ants.anid a theological institute 10
eated near by, containing 120
student studying for the minis
A. German writing from Phila
delphia toLI an American friend who
wa in (rermany on a vigit, con
elud'r.i his l.tter' thus: "If I hifs
til I -e. tell my fr'iends at home
-that I rbal visit mfein F"aterland
pufbre I leaves Philadelphia.
SHlf a pounld 0f shot adminis
tered to) sympia: hetic cats af this
seasoni o: hOb year' Will bear f'ruit
- in in creased hour's of sl umrber'
throughnout the 5unmmer. and hav
ing~ a t enlnc it'1C prevent a cot'ner
tin the cic:ke nmar'ket.
e it rather hit the nail on the
head when a lady, on being asked
what she thought was the mean
ing of the words, "The pestilencee
-that walketh in the darkness," an
swered that, in her opinion, it was
rLeigh IIunt was asked by a
1 lady if he would not venture on
e an orange. "Madam," he replied,
'I should be happy to do so, bat I
Iam afrai d I might tumble oft'."
A. maiden lady says that if sin
gie life is bad, it stands to reason
that double life is twice as bad ;
buthl atdicesrrl ndrtn