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UKS lt.fi s"
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An Independent Family Newspaper,
u rrBi.isimi) KVEitr tijbsiut dt
f. Mortimer & co.
Withlu the County
" ' " Mix months
Out of the County, Including post hup.
" " ' six IllolltllS "
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Advertising rates furnished upon appli
cation. PETER'S RIDE TO THE WEDDING.
Peter would ride to the wedding he would
So he mounted his ass and hid wife
She was to rldebehlnd, It she could,
" For," says Peter, " the woman, she should
Follow, nut lead, through life.
" He's mighty convenient the ass, my dear,
And proper, and safe and now
You bold by the tail, while I hold by the ear.
And we'll rldeto the kiik In time, never fear,
If the wind and the weather allow."
The wind and the weather were Pot to be blamed,
Tint the ass had adopted the whim
That two at a time was a load never framed
For the back of one ass, and lie seemed quite
That two should stick fast upon him. '
'Come,Dobbln,"says Peter, "I'm thinking we'll
"I'm thinking we won't," says the ass,
In language of conduct, and stuck to the spot
As ir he had sworn he would rather be shot
Than lift up a toe from the grass.
Says Peter, says he, "I'll whip him a little"
"' Try it, my dear,"-Bays she
But he might Just as well have whipped a brats
The ass was made of such obstinate mettle
That never a step moved he.
"I'll prick him my dear, wltK a needle," said
" I'm thinking he'll alter his ml ml''
The ass felt the needle a nd up went his heels ;
'(I'm thinking," says Peter, "he's beglnnlng.to
Some notion of moving behind.
" Now lend me the needle, and I' II prick his ear,
And set t'other end too gotug.''
The ass felt the needle, and upwards he reared :
Hut klckingand rearing was all It uupeated
He'd any intention of doing.
' we get on rather slow;
While one end Is up, t'other sticks to the
Hut I'm thinking a method to move him I know,
lt's prick head and tall both together, and so
iilvt the creature a start all around."
flays reter, says he
NEW BLOOMFIELD, TUESDAY, MA.RCII .13, 1877.
So said . so dune ; al 1 hands were at work ,
And the ass he did alter his mi nil
For he started away with so sudden a jerk
That In less than a trlcehe arrived at the kirk,
But he left all his lading behind.
A NATURAL MISTAKE.
LET ME SEE whore wus it that I
first met her ? Oh, yes, it was boat
ing by moonlight. ' A globe of reddish
pearl slowly ascending out of the east
the shadows of the great bridge resting
softly on the mirror-liko surface of the
river; the sound of a flute played softly
afar off, and all of a sudden the keel of
my boat coming Hbarply in contact with
somebody else's oars.
" Hallo, you 1" cried out a clear, incis
ive voice. " Where are you going to ?
Why don't you look which way you nre
." Charley Dresden !" cried out I, little
heeding the torrents b f obloquy he wa
beginning to heap upon me.
"Old Mottlmorc." he responded, joy.
ously. " Who on earth would have
thought of finding you here ? Come into
my boat. Hitch on your old craft be
hind 1 Let me Introduce you to MIfs
I looked as sharply at Miss Sophy as
tho moonlight and my own modesty
would let me, for I knew that she was
the especial admiration of my friend,
Charley Dresden. I had heard her blue
eyes and peach-blossom cheeks raved
about until even my much enduring
patience had failed ; I had listened to
rhapsodies about her sweet voice and
pretty ways. I had been called upon to
criticise original poems composed in her
honor, until the subject had long since
palled upon me and here I had stum
bled, as it were, upon her just as Char
ley was on the threshold of a declara
tion. She was pretty, slight, round and
graceful, with china blue eyes, a dimple
in either cheek, and golden brown hair
worn in long, loose curls, with none
of tho fashionable ''abominations, of
crimps, frizzes, and artificial braids about
her. There was something flowcrllke
and delicate in her prettiness some
thing unconsciously imploring in her
way of lifting her eyes up to your face.
Hardened old bachelor though I was, I
felt as if I could have fallen in love with
her on the spot if I hadn't known so
well that Charley hod the first innings.
We rodo homo together or, at least as
far on our way home as the river would
take us. Sophy sang little boat ballads;
Charley roared out tender songB ; I even
essayed a German student song which I
bod learned in Heldlolierg nobody
knows bow long ago, and we parted the
best of friends. ' ;
A week afterward, Dresden and I met
face to face in the street.
" Hallo, Mottlmore!'' said Charley ,his
honest visage lighting up, "what do you
think of her V" '.
" I think she is a pearl a jewel a
princess among, women!" I answered,
with perfect sincerity.
"XJongratulate me, then !" cried Char
ley, beaming all over, for I am engag
ed to her. Only last night I Look here!"
opeulug a mysterious silver case, which
he took from his inner vest pocket.
" What do you think of thut for an en
gagement ring V"
" A fine diamond," said I, putttugmy
head crltieally on one side ; "and fanci
"We're to be married in October,"
said Charley, lowering his voice In the
most confidential tones. "It might have
been sooner if I hadn't undertaken that
business in France for our firm. ' But I
shall be sure to be back by October, and
the money I shall make will be accepta
ble toward fitting up and furnishing our
new home. Because you know, Motti
inore, that I'm not rich."
We parted with a reciprocating squeeze
of the hand, and Charley's bright face
haunted mo all day with a sort of
reminiscence of what might have hap
pened also to me if I hadn't been forty-nnd-flve,
and with u buld spot on the
back part of my head. I spent an evening
with her afterward at the genteel house
where she and her mother a nice,
bright eyed little woman, the full bloom
rose to correspond with Sophy's budding
loveliness dwelt In the coziest of apart
ments furnished in dark blue reps, with
a turn-up bedstead Ingeniously designed
as u high-backed sofa, and canaries and
geraniums in .the windows. It was a
pleasant evening, and would have been
still pleasanter If Charlie und Miss Ad
riance had not both agreed by mutual
consent to put me and the expectant
mother-in-lnw on the sumo platform of
old fogylsm, and expected us to talk pol
itics, religion, and tho last new opera by
the shaded gaslight, while they did the
llomeo and Juliet business on the balco
ny. I dare say they enjoyed it, but it
was rather embarrassing, you see, to
Mil mm a Adriance and me.
" It's so kind of you to come," said
Sophy, with a gentle pressure, of the
hand when I went away. "I am so
glad to welcome Charley's friends."
I felt that I could cheerfully sit through
another evening of commonplace chit
chat and photograph albums for such a
reward as that.
Well, Charley Dresden went away,and
as he didn't leave Sophy Adriance In my
care, I didn't feel called upon to present
myself at the genteel boarding house,
where the blue reps and turn-up bedstead
made such a feeble attempt at deception
and the canaries sung in the south win
dows ..... ........ .-.
' I supposed naturally enough that all
was going right, until one day I received
a note from my old friend, Bullion, the
banker, a man of sixty, .who wears a
wig, spectacles, and counts his income
upon the double figures. Bullion was
going to be married.
" Of course you'll think it a foolish
thing for me to do," wrote Bullion; "but
even at sixty a man has not entirely
outlived tho age of sentiment; and when
once you see Sophy Adriance you will
forgive any seeming inconsistency on
"Sophy Adriance!" was this the way
poor Charlie's blue eyed Jlanoee was
serving him while he woa abroad trying
to earn u little money for her sake ? My
heart rebelled against the fickleness of
I went straight to tliegentetl boarding
house. It was possible that I might bo
misled by a similarity of name, although
even that was, unlikely.
" Is Miss Adriance at home?" 1 asked
of a slatternly servant girl who answer
ed the bell.
" Lor', no, sir. Miss Sophy's spend
ing a few weeks with a friend at Scar
borough," she answered. '
That was enough. I went home and
enclosed Bullion's letter in another en
velope, directing it to, poor Charley
Dresden's address, Poste Restante, Paris,
adding a few lines of my bwn,wherein I
endeavored to mingle consolation and
philosophy as aptly as possible. . .
" It's an ungracious thing for me to
do, sending this letter,'' wrote I, " but I
believe It to be the part of a true friend
to undeceive you as promptly as possi
ble. Bullion is a millionaire; Sophy Is
but a fallible woman, after , all. Bo a
man,' Dresden, and remember that she
is not the only woman in the world who
would rather be an 'old man's darling
than a young man's slave.'.'
And then I wrote, curtly declining to
stand up with old Bullion.
It wus but a few days subsequently that
the waiter showed an elegantly dressed
young lady into my room at the hotel. I
rose in some surprise. Aside from old
aunt Miriam Piatt and my laundress, my
lady friends were few. But the instant
she threw up her thick tissue veil I rec
ognized the soft blue eyes and damask
rose cheeks of Sophy Adriance.
" Oli Mr. Mottlmore," she cried, pite
ously, " I know you won't mind my
coming to you, because you item exactly
like a father to me." I winced a little
at this. '.'But I have received such a
letter from Charley, and as you've
kuown him a longtime, I thought per
haps you could explain it to mo. Oh,
I have been so wretched ! And Indeed I
don't deserve it I"
She gave me a tear-blotted letter, and
then sat down to cry quietly in the cor
ner of the sofa until such a time as I
should have finished its perusal. It was
a fit mirror of Charley Dresden's im
petuous nature, full of bitter reproaches
dark innuendoes, hurling back her
troth, and hinting gloomily at suicide 1
When I read it 1 scarcely wondered at
poor Sophy's distress.
"What does he mean, Mr. Mottl
more V" asked Sophy, plaintively, " then
he accuses me of selling myself to the
highest bidder Oh, it is so dreadful I"
I folded the let ter and looked severely
at her. "Miss Adriance," said I, grave
ly, " it strikes me you are trying to play
a double part here. The afiinnced bride
of Benjamin Bullion ought hardly to
hope to retain the allegiance of poor
Charles Dresden into the bargain."
" J don't understand you," said Sophy
looking wistfully ut Inc.
" Are you not about to become tho
wife of Mr. Bullion, the banker?" I
" Oh, dear, no," said Sophy. "That's
" Eh V" gasped I.
"It's mumma," answered Sophy.
" She is to be married next week ! Didn't
you know It?"
I stared straight before me. Well, I
had got myself Into a pretty pickle by
meddling officiously with affairs that
didn't concern mo.
" Look here, Miss Adriance." said I,
" I will tell you all about it."
So I did. I described old Bullion's let
ter, my own false deductions therefrom,
and the rash deed I had committed in
sending the banker's correspondence to
" And now," said I, " do you wonder
that he is indignant?"
Sophy's face grewiadiant.
" But there's no harm done," said
she. " No real harm, I mean. Because
I have written him a long letter all
about mamma and Mr. Bullion ,which he
must have received almost the next
mail after he sent JofT this cruel sheet
of reproaches. And pray, Mr. Mot
tlmore, don't look so woc-begone," she
added, kindly Your mistake was quite
Sophy was a true prophet. There was
no real harm done. The next mail
brought a letter full of entreaties to be
pardoned, and a brief, brusque note to
me, which told me, not in so many
words, but In spirit, that I had a great
deal better have minded my own busi
ness. Which I really think I had. -
I stood up with old Ben Bullion and
that full blown rose, Sophy's mamma,
after all, and when Charles Dresden
came home I cut the big wedding cake
at his wedding feast. Papa Bullion gave
the bride away, and people say that
Sophy was the prettiest bride of the sea
son. But it came pretty near being a
broken off affair at one time, and all
through my fault. I've since learned
to hold my tongue a lesson none the
less valuablo for being learned late In
A Telegraphic Incident
GENERAL ANSON STAGER, vice
president and Western manager of
a telegraph company, used to bo a New
York State printer boy, and about the
time the telegraph got Into runningorder
he put his attention to telegraphing and
soon became an expert at the business.
About tw'enty-ftve years ago he was still
an operator, and the jjossibilities of the
telegraph were in a large measure in
embryo. At this time Pittsburgh was
the general's headquarters. One bitter
cold night he found himself on the tars
on the Pittsburgh and Fort Wayne rail
road. All of a sudden the train came to
a sudden halt. Time passed on still
there was no forward movement. Fi
nally, after an hour had gone our ojie
rator made bold to inquire what the mat
ter was, and was informed that the lo
comotive had gone back oh them and
that they would be compelled to wait at
least four hours for relief. '
" How are we to be relieved ?" inquir
ed Mr. Stager.
. The conductor is hoofing it to the
next station, nine miles away," was the
" Why didn't you call me ?" inquired
"Call you? What could you have
" I would have telegraphed."
" Are you an operator "
"Have you an instrument ?"
" Then what good would it have done
to have called you you can't telegraph
without an instrument?"
" Yes I can," said the ambitious
Anson ; " and if the officers of the roai
are willing, I'll make the attempt."
It should le remarked here that the
director's cor, well filled with dlgnitari
of the rood, was attached to the train.
These were exceeding anxious to reaeh
Pittsburgh to attend an important meet
ing, and the delay was considerably an
noying to them. Although incredulous
to the last degree, they gaye the word to
" go ahead," and all of them " stood
by"-in the bitter cold to witness the ex
Detaching several car lengths of the
conductor's bell rope, our operator
threw it over the telegraph wire and
broke it as near as iossible in the jnid
dle between two poles. Having succeed
ed in this enterprise he was a little cha
grined to find that the wire was not
charged. Nothing daunted, the san
guine Ansou tackled another wire, and
the only other one there was. This
proved to be well charged and prepared
to act responsive to his desires. He pre
pared to " make both ends meet" in
more than 'a metaphorical sense. Se
curing all the slack he could he brought
the two ends together, and, by expert
touches, succeeded in calling the nearest
office. He then sent a brief message
calling a fresh locomotive to their aid.
The operator felt considerablAonfidence
that bis message had been properly
transmitted and received, but he wanted
to be fully satisfied, and how to receive a
message in return was the problem. .
The sense of hearing, on which the
operator had been accustomed to rely, .
failing him for want of an instrument
was necessary to call some other sense
or faculty into requisition and hence he
decided on that of feeling or touch, and
concluding that the tongue was the most
sensitive to electricity of all parts of tho
human body, he accordingly applied the
wire thereto. But this was not enough.
Ground connection had to be establish
ed. However, even this want was over
come. The railroad track was made to
do duty, and did its work remarkably
well, though it was cold comfort for
our operator to hold fast to the rail in
the nipping frost with the bare hand.
But he made his circuit and as ho held
the end of the wire to his tongue ho
soon felt the shocks, and was thus ena
bled, tliTough actual impression, to read
what the operator nine miles away was
putting on the wire. .
Meanwhile the conductor was trudg
ing his way . along, but before ho had
gone half the distance to the station he
was met by a locomotive hurrying to
the rescue. He was utterly confounded
and not a little terrified to see the monster
booming along, and made a frantic ef
sort to bring it to a halt, by placing him
self directly in the track and swinging his
arms for dear life. He succeeded In at
tracting the engineer's attention, and as
goon as he came within speaking dis
tance he wanted to know " what ho was
doing on the track on his time ?"
" Been called," was the answer.
" Who called you ?"
" Been telegraphed for by a broken
down train some live miles below here.
The superintendent sent the order."
The conductor now found himself in
a regular fog, but got on the locomotive
and when he reached the train he lost
no time in seeking light.''
A tutor of one of the Oxford col
leges who limped In his walk was some
years after accosted by a well known
politician, who asked him if he was not
the chaplain of the ollcgo ut such a
time, naming the year. The doctor re
plied that he wus. The interrogator
observed, "I knew you by your limp."
"Well," said the doctor, "it seem my
limping made a deeper impression than
my preaching." "Ah, doctor," was the
reply, with ready wit, "it is the highest
compliment we can pay a minister te
say that he is known by his walk rather
than by his conversation."
- v ,
y The man who Is disgusted with
all the world is seldom satisfied with