. , " i -J 1 3iJV- SV.X
-W-" . r.'r:,.- rrv-. ,, :; ':,.. :. ....:m.,.5i ;,.! iv f f fs Hi? J It? I
P. B. CONN, PUBLISHER,
COMER MARKET AND 4TH STS.
Z. RAGAN, Editor and Proprietor.
BT MBS. 0. M. RIDDLE.
(CONCLUDED.) ' ; " ;V
' Meantime, whenever t glanced at' the
lovers, Willard seemed absont and pre
occupied; rwhilc Sophie looked wearied
and really- unhappy, bo that I begged her
brother at last to take us homo. On reti
ring; to ,my own room, I closely scanned
my heart. "Did I, or did I not love Wil
lard Eaymond, my long-cherished ideal '!"
I Raid. With a gush of thankfulness I
nswcrod, "No." I had been cherishing
a va'm illusion, I found, which vanished
when divested of all its romance. But I '
could not conceal from myself that Sophie's
lover was attracted to me. Should I cause
my gentle friend one pang ? JIust I call
'one shadow to that pure young brow?
' No. My mind was made up. I would
fly from his presence. I would return to
Madame A . 0
The next morning, when I entered So
.phie'fl room, she had not yet risen. 1 1
flrow away the curtain. How lovely' I
The rounded arm
Buaaea mas piaciu urow wa wuue as mo
snowy pinow ; u.e pa.e CUee,v, pure in us
!ii . ii. . ...l. .1 l.
ju.rwraa.parcucy, uiu .ung, uwvj ii.Ugi
i i tji
uioscu on iuu0 vvua.y ujes, urn.
wun icam oi uuicrncBB ; auu i.u.u win
flushed and parted lips was heard a soft,
low murmnr. I caught the echo of his
name the faithless one! I sat beside
ner p.uow, ounea in g.oomy mougnt; dui
ii n i i .1 i l - l l
tho voice of Sophie roused me. "Julia,
dear Julia," it cried, "where am I ? Why
uro vou sittinp- there V 1 told hcr that 1
i v i i t . 1 1 i ii i.
slumbers, but that I should not allow her
. j, ,t i .
fo lfilrt nw.iv mnr mnrn nf inn Tlfnsniit.
j --J ... ..-w
mnrnin 'Inilcon. rlpur .In in. I too
, ... . .. . ,
weak this morning, my exertions last
evening quite overtasked my strengh."
"Rest then, my darling," I replied,
I replied, "I
am thinking of leaving you for a time. I
am about returning to Madame A ."
"Never, dear Julia, you must not leave
me, I have felt for a timo my early doom,
and before tho buds and blossoms of an
other spring I shall bo safe in my father's
hous, whither my mother's smile seems
ever beckoning me' and you will not, can
not leave mo."
"Hush, my dearest dar-
ling," I answered, "do not talk of dying."
"Yes, dear Julia, I have long felt the fal
'lacy of my earthly hopesj nay, turn not
away, yon must hear mo now. As I have
told you before, it was the wish of Willard's
father, communicated to him on his dying
bed, that Willard should choose me for, his
future wife; indeed a promise was exacted
from him that he would fulfil this last re-
quest ; this I never knew until lately ; but
the truth has forced itself upon me; and
t n e ' a- ii,. v:. l
not lavished unon mo. in the same rich
..... a . e . .
him r nd last nwht. nav. do not interrunt
me, when he followed your every motion
with .dmirincr eve-and how could he do
1 '.otherwise ?-I felt that it would be my
greatest happiness to see two dearest
friend, united beforo I leave vou. Prom-
;M m thon. dear Julia, that vou will love
'.nH Rnrinh Willard Ravmond as I. would
have done." But I would not allow her
. to proceed. "No, dear Sophie, not even
to gratify you," I said, "can I promlso
jthat ; besides I have no heart to bestow, I
:1ovjO another." "Can it bo?" she cried.
"And you have not breathed tho secret
fivimtome? Or is it the unknown hero?"
"No, dear Sophie, I have forgotten him
Jong ago,". I replied. "Still my love now
is hopeless." "Ah !' will you not tell mo?"
Bhe said, throwing her arras around my
neck. ' I trembled to reveal it. but t could
not deny hcr. . "Promise mo," I saidr
"that to no one not even to the winds
will von breathe his name." The rcciuired
promise was riven, and, bendine over her,
' T .nnlfB tha namo of her brother, but so
low that I scarcely thought she heard mo,
fr T fMrpi lest the walls might repeat the
' echo 4. perfect glow of delight suffused
those pale features; She kissed mo. again
and aeain. "Then, then," she cried, "will
. ; toy heart's fondest wishes be accomplish
ed," "Yes, but, Sophia, my, love. is noi
returned, nor ever can be," I answered. .
She faded from that time : and.Willard,
who seemed rpused jajo aji appreciation of
the value of the gem that was passing from
his grasp, was as devoted as her warmest
friends could wish. Ho camo daily with
his gift of flowieTS,,fit offering for the pure
hearted. How she worshipped every leaf
and bud ! what hope and peace to her sad
hear, did sho imbibe with their fragrance.
We hoped for a time that sho would re
vive, but our hopes were only too fleeting.
Tho bright , beams of morning rested on
the face, of the fair sleeper, as I beheld
her for the last time. Those lovely eyes
were closed to know no waking ; a sweet
smile rested on the niputh, whose lips were
closed forever. I prpssed one last, linger
ing kiss on that fair brow; and with a wild
gush of weeping was led to tho carriage
that was to bear me away. Mr. Lee om
braced rac with all, the tenderness of a
father, and told me I must come to them
again to cheer their loneliness ; while
Herbert gave mo a silent pressure of the
liand, his whole faco .quivering with emo
tion.' But lie 'mado'bo demonstration of
love. 1 had passed from before him, per
haps forever J ancl.hj had made no sign.
. Oh T-how- Jeeti&iiJi lie very desolate
HRGwed mi 3iuu& Wht&?innA mom on for.
cd'p)i.f0aV Vltcre were garnered so
m.mrtr Kvervtbin-r m,l.-n nf
, , presencc-her sweet fnoo niv
peucJ ga,ing from cvcry page I turned,
How j long(jd bufc f()f ft
nf tx.n,,n i1(,.;s1lf,(i fntllrna
nmo A wq)t ber tf Ao
W1 T, ji,f,. 0,i e .
k.fml.;0 b lfir tftan w fin ,.r w
a ' J
haJ she ncsUcJ ;n of ,)Cr sclioo,
t & t it , . . , , - wn
coulJ . of hcr wlth cdmnoM or rcsl
The trials through which I had passed
, , , . , , .
uau not oeun wmiuut iiieir cneci upon my
myself worthy of the love of those anions;
; . h
self in their pursuits ; in sharing their
joys; and in communing with their sym
pathies I found balm for my own lacerated
heart. I have not told vou, reader, how
deeply Herbert Lees imago had been
cherished in the depths of my inmost soul;
how of hiin, and him only, had I dreamed,
until I felt, that in tearing that idol from
its throne, every bright hope must be
. i r . i,.t -
""BS ' '
mam unsiiuMiiuu , uvuiy tiiiii.iiijf nuiu uu
sacrificed. Oh ! how lonely and desolate
seemed tho future now ! What had
done to merit such a fate ? Nevertheless
these feelings I tried to subdue. Still I
was conscious of being greatly changed.
I no longer felt the samo buoyancy that
i i . i .i i i 1 . ii .
ciatea c m oiner a' mi grauuuuy a
calm s.ettled ? m? llfe as clouds of fa!r
tranquility are scon resting on the face of
h11"0 Huer UB Ul olU1'"8 "HU xmn'
IjOHs before the year had expired I was
mht WillarJ XjmonA. Fain would
I have shuuncd the inectinjr. I assured
tim hisH wcre a11 m Vain-his I could
ncvcr be- 11(3 sccmed mudl aSitatcd and
told how years before, he had watched mo
la m? ramllcs for' manJ a day UDScen be"
lore no naa maao mmseu v.sioic : men
how ho had fled tne sPot and av0ldcd me'
remembering his engagement to Sophie
for how could ne treak a pledge made to a
dying fatncr?- At last meeting ie soun-
eipdttedly tho night of the party, his feel
ings had unwittingly betrayed him into
showing an indifference to Sophie, that, he
sometimes feared, had hastened the rava-
ges of her disease. , "But now that he was
free," ho said, "would I not givo him
some hopo ?, Would I not, after years had
Pas,cd lct him 8ee mo a6ain ?" 1 1060 al"
most in anger. These propositions seemed
swrilogo to Soiio's memory. "Had you
loved her as sho deserved," I said, "had
Jou even been truo, as a man of honor, to
your pledge, you would nevet have pained
nr poor heart.", , "But I repented," ho
dded yur?elf witnessed the cxpia-
tion I .made on her death-bed.': "I did,"
I replied, more calmly, "but die blow had
goM home nevertheless," and then I told
bow, with, martyr-like spirit, she had
herself offered to sacrifice him. . "Go," I
concluded, "once I might hare loved you;
- but n MT?fj
He went, and, after his departure I felt
still more le'n'ely.. rM,y jdepr'esi'on iof ;pir.
. ; J ; f " ' ' '. ' ' ' ' ' !,' L'
Debate)) to American fiteis, f iterator, Jitiwte, anV 6nural $ntdligciict. ;
STEUBENVILLE, THURSDAY, JANUARY 25, 1855.
its alarmed me. Could it bo that I had
even now a lingering affection for bim ?
I felt perfectly satisfied that I had done
right, and yet I was very sad. Herbert
could never be mine, I said, for if ho had
loved me ho Woiild have sought me beforo
this. Had I consulted my happiness in
thus dismissing Raymond ? Was it such
a crime to love me, that I should send him
with scorn away? No, I had not done
wrong, I said. Better live lonely and un
loved always, than do sacrilege to Sophie's
memory, or unite myself to a man, who,
though once my ideal, I could no longer
look up to. So I sat, one winter morning,
ruminating on the darkness that had gath
ered around my pathway, and which it
seemed no bright cloud was ever to pene
trate, when a knock at my door startled
me from my' reverie. It was a servant,
with the information that a gentleman de
sired my presence in the parlor. "My
guardian then has como to take me home,"
I said, for my term was nearly out. "Was
I sd soon to leave 1" I thought of the
friends I was leaving, the only ones I uow
had ; and tears came to my eyes as I des
cended the stairs. With trembling steps
I approached the parlor. I paused a mo
ment to recover composure, and then
slowly entered the room, but still with
downcast eyes, for I dreaded to meet tho
reality of my now almost forgotten guar
dian's presence. Tho French window was
close by tho door, and as I passed it, hear
ing tho bell of tho public academy, which
was immediately in front of Madame
k 's seminary, ringing for school, I
involuntarily glanced out. A snow had
fallen during the night, and the street and
roofs were covered with tho pure white
mantle. Two littlo village girls were
truding along, leaving deep footprints at
every step, but they did not seem to mind
cither this or the cold. "Ah !" said I,
"they have a father and mother, they have
brothers and sisters to love were I too
thus blessed, I could willingly be poor, I
also could cheerfully trudge through the
snow to school. But there is no one to
love me, I am alone in the wide, wide
But suddenly nt this thought, I was re
called to myself, by a person rising : and
now I was at last compelled to look up.
Ah ! what was my astonishment and de
light, when instead of my guardian, I be
held Sophie's brother, who advanced with
open handa and eloquent eyes to meet me.
" Dear Julia," he said and drew me to tho
sofa. Then ho poured forth in burning
language, tho love so long kept back, and
the reason why ho had delayed.
" I have loved you from the first, dear
Julia," ho Baid, "but well did I guard
my secret. Sophie's warm affection for
hcr friend endeared me to you beforo
saw you, and I was prepared to lovo at
onco. But I fancied that my feelings
could never bo returned. You seemed
ever to bo pre-occupied, as if already se
cretly won. Then Willard came. I had
known for a long timo, that he had not
loved our Sophie with tho changeless
lovo that hcr warm heart deserved, and to
-r . l 1.1..
you l ..saw with wnat Ditterness none
may know his wavering affections turn.
Your noble conduct, at that sad period,
endeared you still more to me. Yet I some
times fancied it was your love for Sophie,
and a wish to spare her feeing, more than
a dislike to him that compelled you to shun
his attentions. I knew, after hcr death,
he would seek you as soon as decency
would permit. I casually heard that it was
he you had met at tho spring, about which,
before I met you, Sophie had told me. I
feared oh ! how I feared that he was
the one I had pursuaded myself you secret
ly loved. I lymrd of his visit to you, and
despaired. The agony that followed, you
cannot imagine. But when a few days
since I saw tho, notice of his sailing for
Europe, I thought that there might yet
be hopes for me. And now tell me that
you will como and make our desolate
home glad with yout bright, presence;
you know not tho sadness that seems rest
ing there, since we have laid our darling
down, to sleep. I have not rested, day or
night since t heard that Willard sailed,
but travelled straight here. Say, will yon,
dear Julia, b ,mine. ' , . it ( . . ,
''There could be but one answer to such
aa appeal. WiA nrj hei buried on his
shoulder, I murmured tluy confession of
lovo, love that could nSr changed
The next morning ho called, and had a
private interview with Madame A ,
the issue of which was, that with my con
sent, I was to remain with her until the
end of the present term, at the expiration
of which, with the approval Of my guardi
an, our happiness was to be consummated.
To my guardian he wrote, and in due time
there came a letter, announcing Mr. Stan
ton's coming; he seemed perfectly satis
fied with an arrangement that would con
duce so much to my happiness and world
ly prosperity and one glorious morning
in June, when all nature seemed redolent
with brightness, I bade adieu to that loved
My tears could not be restrained even
with so much happiness beforo me, al
though with him the chosen of my heart
ho whom I vowed to love and cherish
Sophie's brother! for, when Madame
A and my beloved teachers came
to the carriage, and pressed my hand in
parting, the tears would flow, and I wept
on his breast unrestrained.
On our tour we were passing through
the lower part of the state of Virginia, and
a storm overtook us, we were induced to
seek shelter in a large, comfortable-look'
ing cabin by the road side. A perfect
shower of littlo darkies came running out,
to indulge their curiosity by a peep at the
strangers. Suddenly we heard the voice
of their mistress shouting from the door,
" you Bill, you Jim, you Joe,1 just take
yourself off;" and immediately, she came
out to moot uh. -1 thought,; u surely I had
seen that faco before." But not till she
had fallen upon me with an overwhelming
embraco, did I recognise my old school
mate Jemima Edson ! Sho seemed
overjoyed to see me; said that she had
"felt like" she should never see me again
" But you see I have not forgotten you,"
calling up a little red-headed, tottering
girl " I have named her Julia." I was
truly pleased with this mark of affection
from her honest heart, and rummaged my
trunk for a fit offering for my little nanic
The storm abated, and wo were obliged
to leave, or we should miss the cars that
evening, though wo could scarcely get
away. " Wo must stay and sec Jim," so
she called her absent husband; but af
ter partly promising to visit them at some
future time, and telling her that sho must
bring "Jim" and little Julia to sco us in
our still more southern homo, we took our
It was a bright summer evening as we
approached that well remembered spot
that pleasant homo that Sophie so loved
and the events of the last few months
seemed so like a dream that I coul
scarcely realize that she was not again by
my sine, lier tamer was uireauy coming
to meet us. He held me in his arms, and
with tears running down his aged cheek
blessed me as his daughter.
Th'e happiness of the succeeding years
who can describe? My life has passed
without a cloud ; not a wish ungratified
not a want unanticipated. Ah, reader.
may you be as happy.
Vineoah-Faced Gentry. Thcro
a class of men in every community, says
an exchange, who go about with vinegar
faces because they are not appreciated as
they should be, and who have a quarrel
with what they call their destiny. W
hate such people. Ihey are a nuisance
and a pest. They make all in their in
fluenco uncomfortable. These men hav
usually made a grave and great mistake in
the estimate of their abilities, or are unmi
tigated asses. ' Whenever this fault find
ing with one's condition or position occurs
there is always a want of self respect. If
you are a right down clever fellow wash
the worm-wood off your face, and show
your good deeds. Then if people 'feel
above you,' why return tho compliment,
and feel above them. If they turn up
their noses because you are. a mechanic, or
a farmer, or a ahop boy, turn up your nose
a notch higher. If they swell when they
pass you in the street, swell yourself. D
liver us from the whining fools who go
round like babies telling how people abuso
them, and whininz because society wi
not take them by lh eellar, and dr j them
From the Baptist Magazine.
'SONNET. - ! '
BT TBB BEY. I. 8. rgfci, A. I. '
Blessed are those servants whom the Lord
when he conieth shall find watching." Luht
The glorious mom is breaking o'er the earth ;
1 be streaks or daylight gild the eastern skv ;
Creation sigheth for her second birth j
J he church is travailing in agony..
Awake ! ye careless saints, who sleeping lie :
The Lord Is coming, therefore watch and pray :
Ho will be with you ere the dawn of day ;
Dehold he Cometh I Hear Hie bridegroom a cry.
Saviour, as nestlings for the parent bird
v e fondly long tor thee, and would not roam
Bevond thv holv wines : then hasten home.
E'en now by ug thy gentle voice is heard,
Behold,! quickly come!" 'tis thine own word;
Our joyful hearts reply, "Lord Jesus come."
GIVE HE BACK MY HUSBAND.
APPEAL TO A ntMSELLKU.
Nor many years since, a young married
ouple from the far " fast-anchored isle,"
sought our shores with the most sanguine
anticipations of prosperity and happiness.
hey had begun to realize more than they
had seen in the visions of hope, when in
an evil hour, the husband was tempted to
' look upon the wine when it was red,"
and to taste of it "when it giveth its
color in the cup." The charmer fast
ened around its victim, all the serpent
pells of its Boreery, and he fell ; and at
every step of his rapid degradation from
the man to the brute, and downward, a
heartstring broke in the bosom of his com
Finally with the last spark of hope flick
ering on the altar of her heart, she thread
ed "her way into one of those shambles
where man Is made such a thing as -the
beast of the field would bellow at. She
pressed her way through the bachannalian
crowd who were revelling there in their
own ruin. With her bosom full of that
" perilous stuff that preys upon the heart,"
she stood before the plunderers of her hus
band's destiny, and exclaimed in a tone of
startling anguish : " Give me back my
" There's your husband," said the man,
as he pointed toward the prostrate wretch.
" That my husband ! what have yon done
to him ? What have you done to that no
ble form, that once like a giant held his
protecting shade over tho fragile vine that
clung to it for support and shelter ! That
my husband! With what torpid chill
have you touched the sinews of that man
ly form ? That my husband ! What have
you done to that once noble brow, which
he wore high among his fellows, as if it
bore the inscription of the Godhead ? That
my husband ! What have you done to
that eye, " with which he was wont to
look erect on Heaven," and sec in hismir
ror the image of his God ! What Egyp
tian drug have you poured into his veins,
and turned the ambling fouutains of his
heart into black and burning pitch ? Give
me back my husband ! Undo your basi
lisk "spells, and give me back the man that
stood with me by the altar
The ears of the rumsellcr, ever since the
first demijohn of that burning liquid was
opened upon our shores, have been salute
at every stage of the trafic, with just such
appeals as this. Such wives, such widows
such mothers, such fatherless children, bb
never mourned in Israel, at the massacre
of Bethlehem, or at the burning of the
Temple, cried in his ears, morning, noon
and night. " Give me back my husband!'
" Give me back my boy 1" Give me back
my brother !"
But has the rumsellcr been confounded
or speechless at these appeals ? No ! not
he. He could show his credentials at
moment's notico, with proud defiance.
He always carries in his pocket a written
absolution for all he had done, and could.
do in his work of destruction. He " had
bought a letter of indulgence. I man 11
cense ! A precious instrument signed and
sealed by an authority stronger and more
respectable than the Pope's." He confoun
ded? Why the whole artillery ofoivi
power was ready to open in its defence and
support. Thus shielded by the JEgis of
the law, he had nothing to (oar from the
enemies of his traffic, no had the image
and superscription of Caesar on his oreden
tials, and unto Csoaar he appealed, and nn-
j to Ctem too, his tUtim! appealed, and
appealed in rain.
WANTS 0? THE AGE.
"Mex WAjrrro!,,Tit"io'' Good,
honest, practical men ! ' Mqn who dare to
speak, and think and act upon their own
responsibility ! Who can respect, without
worship, the sex whose weakness is their
strength, who believe women to be erea
tures of principle and not passion, who
know the exact amount of faith it requires
to transform them into angels, and who
would sooner cut their tongue out than
originate or spread a libel on woman's pu
rity ! Who are not vain enough to think
themselves Appollos; yet sensible enough
to know themselves men ; who believe on
ly what they see, and take for granted only
what ought to be true ; who can see honest
merit though its gilding be not of gold,
and true worth, though throbbing beneath
the coarse woof of poverty ; in short, such
men as are needed to make husbands, fa
thers and brothers for the women of the
nineteenth century. To such, good wa
ges the wages of love and constant em
ployment, the employment of affection,
will readily be given. None others need
Womex Wanted I" ire r bo?
Women to make happy homes, good hus
bands and contented hearts? whose frank
smiles and sunny looks make a perpetual
sunshine for those about them, who have
a kind word for the suffering, and a ready
sympathy for the sorrowing, who have an
earnest eloquence, and a gentle voice for
the tempted of their own sex, and some
thing more material than either fr the
needy, who make their husband's interest
their own, and can wear a bonnet two sum
mere without a wry face, if a depleted
purse makes it expedient, who look upon
the bright sido of every picture, turn out
the silver lining from every cloud, and
point out tho spot in the stormy sky, where
tho bow of promise will shortly bond, who
ike the society of their own husbands bet
ter than that of their neighbors, and can
find time for everything expected of the
sex but scandal and ill-nature ! In short,
such women as are greatly needed to fill
up vacancies in the home book of Ameri
can beauty !
"GiRL8 Wanted." Whoso hearts
would ache to know the ways and means
employed by mistaken parents to make
them tho artificial flowers of society which
they arc, whose lips would burn beneath
the hot breath of the libertine, who looks
upon them as so many victims to hia own
or some other devil's arts, whose bared
and tempting shoulders would tingle, and
strive to hide themselves away beneath
the scanty dress of fashionable immodesty,
when licentious eyes arc taking in their
manifold charms, who would feel that to
dress, and simper, and flirt, and patronize
things beyond or beneath their compre
hension; was the smallest portion of wo
man's mission upon the earth, who would
be willing to recognise the useful as well
as the ornamental pursuits of life, and who,
eschewing the unworthy and'ahallow-pated
flatterers of society, could be won only by
the good, and the noble, and the high-
minded ! Such girls, as in the course of
their natural lives wonld give to the Ame
rican character, what it now so greatly de
plores, a nationality of its own.
" CniLDREN Wanted !" Boys and girls,
simple, earnest and child-like, who at the
age of innocence, have not learned all the
wickedness and most ot the crimes of so
ciety, who are not practised in all the arts
and weaknesses of men and women, and
who are not prepared to take at the earli
est opportunity, their first degree in vice
and immorality, who are not defiant to
their equals, or saucy to their superiors,
who do not present to the world that hid'
eous deformity of an old head on young
shoulders, and are willing to give their fa
ther and mother credit for knowing of a
trifle more than they do 1 Suoh children
are scarcer than government offices, or pen
nies in a poor man's pocket. - Until such a
race of embryo men and women spring up
in our midst, we may despair of supplying
the essential wanta of the age. Uotton
American Inion. ; Oat Sfankir.
, Why are yaur nose and chin always at
variant?. ' Because 1 wwda coatianallw
pass between them.
$2: P E R ANNUM,
, INVARIABLY IS ADVANCE.
VOLUME L NUMBER 4.
J6?A Gentleman from New York, who
had been in Boston for the purpose of
collecting some moneys due him in that
city, was aboilt returning, when he found
that one bill of a hundred dollars had beeu
overlooked. His landlord, who knew tho
debtor, thought it a doubtful case, but ad
ded, that if it war! collectable at all, a tall,
raw-boned Yankee, then dunning a lodger
in another part of tha hall, would 'worry it
out' of the man.
Calling him up, therefore, he introdu
ced hiin to the creditor, who showed hiw
'Wal, Square,' said he, 'taint muoh
use 0' tryin', I guess. I know that critter.
You might as well try to squeeie 'He out
of Bunker Hill Monument as to c'lect a
debt out of him. But any how, Square,
what'll you give sposin' I do try?'
'Well, sir, the bill is one hundred dol
lars. I'll give you yes, I'll give yon
half, if you'll collect it."
Greed,' replied the collector; ther'i
no harm in tryin' any way.'
Some weeks after, the editor chanced
to be in Boston, and walking up Treroout
street, encountered his enterprising friend.
'Look o'here,' said he, 'Square. I had
considerable luck with that bill 0' your' 11.
You see, I stuck to him like a dog to a
root, but for -the first week, or so 'twan't
no use not a bit , If he was home, he
was 'short ;' if he wasn't home, couldn't
get no satisfaction. By and by, says I,
after goin, sixteen times, 'I'll fix you!'
say3 I. So I sat down on the doorstep,
and sat all day and part of the evening,
and I begun airly next day ; but about ten
o'clok 'he 'gin in.' He paid me my half,
and I gin him up the note !'
A Cool IIkply. An amusing ooloquy
came off recently at the supper table, ou
board of one of our Eastern steamers, be
tween a Boston exquisite, reeking with
hair oil and Cologne, who was " deming"
the waiters, and otherwise assuming very
consequential airs, and a raw Jonathan,
who sat by his side, dressed in homespun.
Turning to his " vulgah" friend, the for
mer pointed his jewelled finger, and said :
" Buttah, sah!" " I see it is," coolly re
plied Jonathan. "Buttah, sah, I say!"
fiercely reiterated the dandy. " I know It
very good a first rate article," provo
kingly reiterated homespun. " BtTTAU,
I tell you !" thundered the exquisite, ia
still louder tones, pointing with slow, un
moving finger, like scorn's, and scowling
upon his neighbor as if he would anni
hilate him. " Well, gosh-all-Jerusalem,
what of it?" now yelled the downeaster,
getting his daudriff up in turn "Yer
don't think I took it lor Lard. Trans
cript. Quizzinu a Vermoxtkr, The other
day, while over, in Jersey city, a tall, long
legged, big flat-footed, six foot Vermont
er came up to us with a rush, holding in
his arms a pillow case, well filled, no doubt,
with home affairs and fixins, and also gnaw
ing away on a larga cake of gingerbread.
" Can you tell me, sir, what time the cars
coinein?" " The cars, Bir ?" "Yes sir."
" The cars, sir, come in right after the lo
comotive." .Down went the pillow-case
oh he was full of fight.
JW?-A gentlemad sent a lad with a let
ter to the Baltimore post office, and mon
ey to pay the postage. Having returned
with tho money, he said : " guess I have
done the thing slick ; I tu a good many
people puttin' letters .in the post offioe
through a hole, and 10 I watched my
chance, and got mine in for nothing."
" Mr. Snowball, I want to ask you 6D
question, dii ebening.", .
' " Well, succeed." . , ; ;-
" Spose you go to de tavern to get your
dinner, and you don't hab nuffinon de ta
bid but one big beet, what wonld yon say?"
" I gib dat up, what would you aay V
1 " Why, under de oiroumst&noes ob .de
ease, I should say, dat beet's alL" -
A lady ' looking at a review,' u fecUmL
u sua woa partial to muiury training; re-
plied that she liked exceedingly tW offi
.' , 'it
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