Oxford Democrat. [volume], April 16, 1869, Image 1

About Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933

Image provided by: Maine State Library

                
VOLUME 36.
PARIS, MAINE, FRIDAY, APRIL 16, 1869.
NUMBER 13.
Of dMorb Omorrai,
0 ^
13 rUBUSHKD KVKftl FRIDAY MORMXU HT
f. A",
Κ M TO Κ Λ Μ» Γ RΟ Γ Κ 1 Κ TO R.
ΓΚΚΜ^:—Τ»υ PulltrtperrHr; On* Doftarand
fitly v^ats.if paid to a<h»kM
tint* ι* o/*
for I »vju*r«-a I iuohol ·| ao*· ι I *« rk, · . φΐ.00
Kacd «nb^jacBt w**k, .'."j
Κ or 1 »m»»rr .1 un», tit·; < mo.<. $*; 1 >rar, f!t.
Kor I ο»)*·· I vrar, llrto.w, | col #"»>. J c >1
a»PKC*lAL N«»rh »>-2Af^r cvnf
Γκ·>η\ι>. Ν « · » I» κ*—Ord· r« ot aoticrol K «ut e
Ordrr· on Willu, prr · . Ι..ΊΟ !
(»iutf\iiao'4 Νοίκν». '· • 1.50
Adiaiai«tra'or'a aad Kx^ntor'· Notie*»·, « l.:*)
Ali other L«-*.*l Ν our*·, louper »su-r*. fer thrrr
|B»rrtiom
)08 PRINTING, ef i*enr d«crtpbof\ "««H» exemtad
·#-<►. M IVtt*nglll A Co., !0 St*tri*trr*t H«»«ton,
and Ifî Xa«*aii Strrrt, New Y>»rk. aod >. R Nil··, j
CoarlMitrl, Β M Ion. are aathortsed *«fiiu
l.orat At/tnt* for Thr Ih iHttrrnt.
W So ar«- aathortaed to rwipt for noavv.
J. H l.ov.-joT, .Vlfwny. \. H llubi>ar<i. Miratu.
Silrana* 1 *oor, Awfc>r»r W. Ri< kn<-U. Hartford
Κ. Foster. Jr., It«-th«·! John K. liobb*, l.-vell.
l»r Liplum. KrTut'i· I*. Hrttrr W. l'ark. Μ·λ!<«.
Kl· U. 1»·Λΐι. i»ru» · » ii M », ο tl liro*i<. M%». j
W. Cumm'ii.'v BatkfllM ll> nr* I pfwi», V>rway.
K. K. Molt. Canton. One >'o»trr. >ι·*γτ.
KolaterA Ku-h'n, iHxfi'ii K. S \V>man, Γ·τ«ι.
IHtM Vvall, K < iron.T. Il \hb«»tt, Jr .K RumPd
>' >htrley, l'rr. bur.;. J. ti. lit-h. I ptou.
!>. R.(Vork(tt,Um»v'il. Il. Π . Cllaadler. H". Snm'r
A· X. Kuapp llanovrr Ji· M >tiau, Wat. rford
II. Saun Vr», Sart-dt-u.
TrartUini; V^vut, K«v. S. W. l'iKKt'K
SuharriNer* ran tell, br cxmmiatmg the ix>forcd
• lip attachai to thrtr paper. th. amount dae, and
thoae wtohinx to a. ail thrm*t-l«e» <>i th« advaaotl
parti»» nt*.eau «enJ t«> u· l>v mall or hand to thr
inarvet a^vut. 4'Sepl. I. 'Oh.*' ou the slip, nican*
the paper n p.iM for. to that'late. \Vh> n mouer U
• «•■t. car* »h..ul 1 l«· Uk»a tui \amia< thr »itp. »u»t if I
the mouey ta not credited witluu two nrvkt, wv ;
ahouM br appruted of it.
Professional Cards, t^c.
Sim CL K. « \RTEK,
ΓΛΚ1> 1U1.L, Mb.,
LIFE A FIRE INSURANCE AGENT
— n>« —
OXFORD rorvTY.
SUC ΓτριτΉΌΐ» oui) flr>l » U'5 Companim. ,
an«l will U»u* Poîi»1»·· .-It s» far<»r.il»l<» rnt»'·1 .»- :ιη\
other \jrvnl \ppli.-nt»«»n>· by m .til for t'irrnler»
or ia«unui<'«, pi"iuj«tl> answered, &a<i any part >«t
the County visited il re^ue-ted. ΑρΙ 1
HI BBtKD IIO I § E,
PARIS HILL, - - MAINE,
11. Ill IIBlKIl, Proprietor.
UK. 4 . K. 141K,
s i n a r ο χ υ t: y τ ι s τ,
V*dl HK> VNT > POM > the week follow·
iMthf no»» Moxi'vi in κλιιι month Uj«· rr
luaiuder .'f tli»· tun·· «t W κ·»τ *»ι \jnkr
·*- [ni. «λγτ:ιπ;«·Ί to ât or n«> chanr* will be
made .#· 3m jjurf.*
\* . Cl » H * I .
Counsellor \ Attorney at Lam\
Kuiniuid l'oint. Mmnr,
de*' 1? '«*>
ΜΟΙ,.νΐ'ΕΚ Λ UHI4.IH.
Counsellors and Attorneys at Law
tixriKLD, μ r..
W w »Ot>fKR J * WMIOHT
II %*»Ki:i.l. Λ HIIIII.
MJRBLE WORKERS.
— PI·»;*·* i>f Bumik'm —
HI Till 1. ΙΜ» sol Til PARIN.
(·. I>. Bl^liEi:,
Attorney $ Counsellor at Laic,
ltu« kflrlil. Otfitril touMt) . Mr.
€ II IKI.I> IIERHEV.
F .YCTJM t'FK. - - South I'tiri*.
Will hr t ·υη>ϊ af hi- Re»ideere.
Uv
II. i. JEWEIT,
DEPITÏ SHERIFF,
F»»r Oxlopi sn<l I'timberhnil Γ»«ι»Ιί·'«.
1* O. A«Uire»-. Nortfc WHi ri nl Mm ne.
##■ Ml kuiawa ml I j mI m il ν « pnnupt
att>uti<« 12 i
Maine Uterine Hospital,
■W ATER CURE,
SOT COLO trtTFR Cl Rt
w at ι : ι : FO ι : ι >. maink.
I> . P. Nil 1ΤΓΙI K. H. 1»..
Sup«nnteii<liiu Pkjf kjtiunnail · ·· . · a: njc "«ι ·"»
I » Π. W. Β. I. % 1*11 % Ί.
'V II attend t the 1*πι :κύ «»f
MEDICLVE λ· SURGERY, !
BRYANT* I'OXI" VK
' ·« 1 · : ; ! . attended and chanre!·
rra-iiubW
Ο. K. MAUL, n. D..
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, '
Κ I Κ I'll'.L 1» . Ή Κ .
tlrt* Mf
j. %. ήοκτοv m. i*..
PHYS1CIAS δ* SCRGEOX, !
BKTH κ !.. >1 Ε.
«ι®..· u: K rnl al: - 1Μ··<·^ IMUMMM Park "»t
KIW DHl Cr 8TORE.
A . U. \V I LMO \ ,
Druggist and Apothecary,
P.I < CKIKLD. MAINK
•*-Phy- iei.m'* pre-eripti >n- carefully con>
η.»ι ..ImI V! Dr<>iu!'lh atteu îe»l to
γ. ε. ι:ν η. D.,
Γ HÏSICI.IX SURGEOJS',
NOLW AY VILLA·.L. MK.
«· !»r Κ will *iM> pay |MUt;ciUar allruUou U» ;
Jurav·. >f :*>»· Kve sn-l l·' «>{* -:*t■ \« ·ν;τχ«·η. in all
il- forms ofti ·«· ovfr th<· 1*«»~C «»Ûi^r I '
(.l om.i: i. mi nmn
Attorney Counsellor at Lair,
('ΗΓ-f .η·μ κ*ΰ'·> tk<> AtLuitic Hou*r ,
SOlTil PARIS. MK.
rtin? prvinptlv Co.
v «. imwirnrn
Counsellor $· Attorney at Lair,
lil'L ki IEL1>, OXTuKD CO . MK.
**- Will ΡΠΜ-t.te in Oxford, CmuWriuu.1 aiul
4ii«Jr»»-r·yr<i»« <."unt r
i:>o( h wmmm* jk.,
Counsellor *lllonuy at Lair,
HKTHELi ML·,
du. a. f. jmH)
DENTIST,
NOKWAT villa*.k, ml
β# Γ<ι ; .i'ii G >!»«. SilvtMr, i>r Vulcaa
iljA KtltLrer.
Î-'octrg.
[<>K1lil\AL ]
.I Song for th* Spring-time.
We we!eo«ne jrou. we welcome you. sweet mes
of Spring:
And our heart* trt l»eating gmly. to the merr)
J OU MUX :
We Are weary oi the -«now drift·, and the rhillin|i
winter bla*t.
Ami you tell u« that the spring-time ha* rvalh
conic at la-l !
We are longing f«u the f>>re*t . through its dim
old aiide* to r.wuu.
Can you tell u*. jfentl·· - >m * tere, an1 the Sprinp
flower* yet in bloom ?
!» the aweet ArbuW« wilting its enc-tnoê on
the {(ale.
Au'l down the breeiv hill-vide, all through the
quiet vale.
H.i\fthi· Liverworts jet opened their petals to
the lleht.
Ulue as tbe »kie* above u*. pale pink and pearly
white ?
Can you tell u« of the violet··, are the\ budding
by the bnn»k ?
Vml the lovely, fair anemenonc*, In many a quiet
nook ?
Ami all the other flower* that belong to Flora'
train,
Are they «printing on the hill »ide. are they bud
ding on the plain ?
Oh' uvntle. lovfh flrm errl-, if I could In Ik to
you.
And vuu could hear my «tory. wUi.-h, ala* ' i» all
too true,
1 would tell you of an army, of a prcal ami cruel
band,
That <V»m early oprinc to autumn. jroe* roaming
through Die land,
>eektug the loiely floweret», wherever they may
hide.
Whether In -hady wo>~i Innd*. or where the wa
ter» elide.
\nd «lo th< y *ee one blo«-oui. they quickly «.el/v
Ihe fitn.
Pluck it « th want.'U linger» from *«fT the parent
otetu.
Γ1η·η leaf fn»ra et em they trar it, an l ».-alter
heedlevdy,
TtM? t'jur and lovely petal» upon the icr«»uu«l to die
IV, ftir «1»*» thfT U'nr It. «hen »<»ou it dntop*
»u<t fade·.
Pirn:.g With b. , el»·-* longing for i» u.-itiv»·
land glade* :
V.<w ι'··!'·,ΐ' littl·· flow'ret I · ,y. if you were
I"he brw/f' could η ·1 w<*· you t > ·>;*· _\··ιιγ sdarry
rye*,
Fîut y « >n M h.de «1·»*η when· the n .-»·« tl: r
fa tiiirr» twine.
►f »ear>t. jfreeu and purple. bei. .:h the -igliuiK
pine.
\nd none would ever flnd y ·α, but λ» the iciMin
come.
Λ jth the frasraa· «» oi lb·· \·· < trie y>u mingl
your perfume.
Hut I know \ ou;will u»t heed me, and 1 «»uM
not w.-h you to,
Κ >r if there wore no flower», in leed. whit »hould
we mortal* do '
\nd though we «till s-hall pluek you, you ever
more w ill hlttoin.
Vnd the more that we -ball eru*h you. the fwwl
er \ our jKTfbrae.
(Veil m-ght *ι· rv-tle»·. mortal*. -weet floweret·
lean» fn in you.'
V leswn which might make us 'more geutle an l
more true,
Γ !* .: < r .»!«··{ an l M· ·ϋ:ι*. .m l trodden
to tin· ground.
iVe i.njrtit aeud forth Iotc'.» fratrranre to the baud
LtuU ga\e the u >und.
Jut while 1 have been mnging to the alee pin κ
duiicri this »ong.
[*he robu an·! flu- blue t'.rd. the.r li'ju 1 v. >t -
prolong :
Ind a little duoky »panrow that we.ir· a •»|>"**kU ι
vol.
la* bet·!! puriog mu u a L»· —ry <· -ng from out lu»
tin> brea»t
Ind other*. too. are flit;iag. among the lcafle*»
tree*.
* I 1 f»el in· η m\ for· h·*:»·! the <oft breath <f th·
bre«»îe;
Vnd I kte-w Iw.U u >j line. ai. 1 with the gentle
rain,
IVill fl> the tlie vale» at;·! hill-side* w:tli the fr**>h
grven pw.< a*i n.
lu i the s '.n,: will wt'-ive a garment of green.
leave* for the tree·»,
Vn l they 'll 'lap their ha»·!- right merrily, to
ever* |ι*«·ιιικ bref/»·.
>b joy ou-t, happy spring time' that bring» th·
birda and flowirr·,
>'>r cloud» and blinding .tempest -the -nnshine
and the -hon er
)ur heart- are full of gladue--. to welcome hark
a*ain,
I*he ch >ir of iVathen-d] »onjr-»«'r*, and Klora'-*
painted tra.u,
Ind «Unding on the fre*h *···1. a merr· kiuh wcT
ting.
V j >v»>u- foujf of welet»rae. of welcome, to th»·
Spring "
V.»»., il.nl lv>l /1 ι
«Sdcct §ton).
THF HFSFH VFD LOVER.
Wo may boast of understanding human
laturo, and value much our estimate of
human character, but how often do we
ind ourselves at fault. There is often
♦o much where we expect to llnd so lir
:le, so little where we had hoped to find
^reat volumes : so much roughness un
ler an outward polish : >o much gentle
jess sometimes hid I»ν η forbidden as
[H><t : such agreat current of geni;»l warmth
[lowing sometimes under an icy surface,
that wondrous wi.->e i> lie, who hall the
time is ritfht in his estimate of character.
Any man who has arrived at the age
A forty can look back ami see such a
umble of estimates a> must convince him
Jiat e\eu hi> most cherished rules of
λ eighing or estimating human character
will not stand the test often years. The
first st hoolbov friend—the ouc who met
him fii>t ou the playground—he rcmcui*
her?» only a> the selfish booby, who, on
Jie thirvl day of their Acquaintance, stole
half his marbles, while another boy with
whom he had scarcely exchanged a word
Juring the first quarter, has been, for
;wenty years, his confidential adviser and
Irinest friend. He remembers how bright
he world looked at twenty-one, of how
îigh he placed then the character of those
who were associated with him: but the
nieh«*s are tilled with other images now,
and the idols of the p:t-t, after a series of
rhanges, alteration of estimate figures,
repairing of broken features, strengthen
ing of weak points, lie now as worthless
rubbish in the most faintly lighted of those
much talked of halls of memory.
We look upon a face—iuto an eye ;
listen to a man's voiee and laugh ; watch
the play of features; the movement of
his person, and commence at once the
procès» of figuring up his worth. Wc do
not wail fur facts. Like a pupil anxious
to succeed without the aid of a teacher,
j we hasten to solve the problem in ad-1
vance οΓTime, who is solving it tor us,
and proud of our work. Haunt the esti
mate in the faee of all the world.
The next day w e alter κ figure here
auda ligure there; in a week erase a
whole line ; in a month reason on a dif
ferent basis, and arrive at different con
clusions, so that w hen Time, the unfail
ing reckoner, comes round to look over
our shoulders to compare results, he tinds !
us willing pupils, and humiliated rather!
than proud that the blurred slate, after a
hundred changes, presents the same re- !
>ult v* is marked upon his record in one
bold, clear dash. The old are as ready j
to make mistakes as the young, though
they deem themselves very wise from1
their \a>t experience. The smooth
tongued scoundrel,who imposes upon the '
school girl a brilliant description of start- |
ling events that never occurred, and of |
scenes that do not exist, will talk law to .
the old judge*, and medicine to the old j
doctor, and horses to Frank, and butter ;
and cream, ami good dinners to the house- j
wife ; and they will all be his dupes, all ι
U' made, sometime, to play the fool's
part in some drama, of which he is hero ι
: and villain. | j
Kxperienco makes us charitable. It
causes us to see less j»ositivu wrong in . |
every person, and more possible good.— ι
It makes us more careful without making |
us suspicious ; but it does not always ι
make our estimates of character ahva\s ι
good oues.
After becoming well acquinted with a
reser\ ed man, after discovering that there I
is manliness where you thought there
h a> only a selfish inde|>endeucc, it is η
little humiliating to shake yourself up and
η j ^
dow n to an entirely different conclusion,
L»ut we all ilo it. h i>a sort of military
, necessity iu the great war of conscience
1 with egotism, and some mean» are found
to justify the procedure, as well a.s to car
: ry it forward to successful conclusion.
Λ thousand stories of life illustrate
these truth*, aud if all thfrse could l»e
\
cited hen· no further argument would be
needed. .My g'H>d, staunch old friend,
the Judge, hiMiest, and straightforward
and charitable in spit·· of his experience
on the bench, declares at last iu open
court that he misjudged the young <ί·τ- ;
man. 1 « ent to him some days since and he
seemed a^ uneasy as a conscience stricken 1
child, until he unburdened himself, and
by free acknowledgment made right with
hiN conscience the wrong that he had done
ray friend.
I had missed the young man from his
old home, on lecovering from h long
illness, but was told at lirst opjmrtunity
by old Franz that he was happily married
and doing something immense iu some
very immense city. The new daughter
to old Franz was a brighter Angel Picture
than Fanny had ever be» n, and his boy,
in his congenial employment, was the
grandest personage that ever fought hi·»
way to success and fortune. This w:i>
somewhat indefinite, and 1 went to the
old Judge for "further particulars."
"That young Herman," said he, "is a
mystery to me. I never made many mis
takes in judging men, but I made a wrong
estimate of his character, from the first
figure up. · I disliked him from the first.
I lis very dres>and manuer impressed me
strangely. The first meeting with his
father shut my heart against him, and
everv* fault of hi* seemed an unpardon
able one. 1 could see no merit in many
things that the world applauded. The
VOUtig fellow had talent, I was forced to ;
admit ; courage 1 knew ; but 1 saw no
manliness. Whenever he came near me ·
I felt ai»asfied, and alw ay s indignant that I
1 did feel >o. Hi- very taste in dress and I
I ·..·.! i l.t.n.nf a 1*11 V 1.11 ,11» , j
"Ile met in soiue whv a pretty, light 1
hearted, whole souled, high spirited, i
strong willed young miss. a niece of mine, I
acknowledging in*- a> a sort of guardian ;
•rails i>er. .Met her at a fair, I believe ; I
again ;tt a picnic; tin·» hero at my house, ι
1 managed to have them kept apart as
much a» possible without seeming to do j
so, but the fates were against me, auil I ]
saw the girl was learning to love this <
strange man, and with a love that seemed
t<> me too much like a worship to last
long. //» seemed content to worship at
a distance. After meeting lier a hundred <
times lie was :i> reserved as at their sec- ]
ond meeting. There was no mistaking
the man's sentiment. He lingered al>out <
her like an artist aln>ut a grand old pic- ι
ture—afraid to touch, content to look and <
dream. I saw this love grow, and the ι
thought of it almost maddened me. I : :
sugger»ted to my niece, oue night, iu the ]
young (German's presence, that she write j
to her lather at what time he might ex- ;
peet her home. A quiet enquiring glauce
—an easy knowing smile, was all that .
j this brought from the yonng man, w hile
upon the £irl it had a peculiar effect. She (
turned and with her lace full of hidden
tears, looked out of the window. He ι
said, with some agitation, an hour after
ward, that it was sad to see such g»>od
friends as this girl had been to him de- ι
part, yet it was best.
"The next day he came to rae and
frankly told me of his love for the girl.—
She was visiting my daughter and I called
her. She came eagerly and without a
wont took the young man's hand. She
said she had written to her lather and
mother all al»out the atl'air, that he had
written also, that there had been no
promises. The man seemed eold as au
iciele—proud but not loving—a great
dread shadowing his eyes. I expressed
the wish that they should not meet again
until the answer of the parents eame. He
replied without a moment's hesitation
"certainly," and with un ordinary good
bye left us. Any other man, it seemed
to me, would have shown more emotion.
I stopped him to say :—"Perhaps the
girl's parents will wish to see the man to
whom they are to give their daughter,
before giving their answer.'' "I will go
Lo them," he said: "prefer that the)
should see me. 1 can wait until they
know me well.*' This was said with a
self-confident air that \ exed me -till more,
and I turned to reprove the girl, but the it)
was such a defiance in her eye, such a
look a» warned me not to venture, that 1
kissed her and said, "God ble*·* you." 1
know not what the two wrote to the old
people, the girl'* parents, but in a week
rame a letter giving their unqualified con
sent to the marriage, asking that their
laughter come home immediately. She
Parted the next day. Theyuung German
«ecined now perfectly happy, but happy
η a dr?a»ny way. In parting from her
;»o simply shook her hand—returned,
pressed it silently again, and then walked
iway, never turning hi* head.
••Cold, heartless lover, was in my |
nind. iwt I did not speak it. During the '
girl's absence frequent letters passed.—
ICach wrote promptly, and the joy that a
alter ga\ e the man caused me to have
m>ilie ivs|H«t tor him. I accompanied
iim when he went to meet his lady-love
It her father's some days in advance of
he ceremony. The ride was a long ">.e
,ut not unpleasant. I discovered the
nan's power. He talked charmingly,
tnd in literature, art and music, 1 sehlom
ound him at fault. He laughed »t his
gnorance of our laws and customs, said
ic felt sometimes like a fool, and >ery
>ftcn as if dreaming. The whole laniilj
net us at the station. The central figure
,va>, «f course, the girl that was soon to
>e hi-» bride, and a* she came l»ounding |
or ward, 1 expected him t«> receive her
vith open arms and repeated kisses. Hut
u· did not. She greeted me warmly,
iissed me twice, then turned in an em
jarrassed manner to shake hands with!
ht lover, lie started as Mw aliening
roui a sound slumber, looked whole \«>1
mies of surprise aud love, hut meiely
,ress.-d her hand. The coolness was uu
>ardonable, and 1 hail serious notions of
notesting against the marriage, lu li\e
ninutcs his dreaminess was gone, and
he great trust the two seemed to have m
«ach other, and the favorable manner in
vhich he seemed to impress the family, j
juzzled aa well a* aunoved ine. And
his feeling grew, lie was reserved a*
■ver, but it was reserve in soit tints,
nellowed down to something that seemed |
uore like reverence <>r respect than re-1
iorvc. The night of the wedding he was
cool as ever before, and both were free
rom embarrassment.
llis promise was made proudly, loving·
y, earnestly, :ws though he wished all the
vorld to know ; and then, a« the parents
tepped forward to kiss the bride, he stop-1
,ed them, and whispering reverently, j
•M\ tii—t ki-s," touched his lip* to the ,
wautiful girl's foreheid, as délicatt Iy as
k mother would kiss :i sleeping bal»e;
Listed her then on each cheek, and put
in" all his soul into his eyes and face,
>ressed his lips to hers with all the pent
»p earnestness of a long absent lover.
HIU can scarcely imagine the scene. I he
ace of the girl seemed like one inspired,
['here was so much of the proud "1 told
on so," in her looks, that 1 saw that she
ill the time had known the man who
,tood unmasked for the first time.
And he is a mail now, manly in every
tense of the won!. Proud still, calm,
,ravc and earnest The parent's blessing ,
fell upon him like a benediction, ami
«verv woman in the room kissed him m
hoir fulness ofjoy. »« ««d to his br.de
,« they were seated, "Never before did I
iiss a woman's lips but my mother's. 1
ilways said my wife should receive m\
irst kiss as a man. Think, my dear, how
nuch it means."
••Theν will come to mo soon," said the
ud<'o "and then you will see how com
detely 1 misjudged the man." [Farmer's
Chronicle.
A Hood Temperance Story.
Judge 11.iv, the temperance lecturer, in
)!ie of his efforts, m ule the following
mrd hit at modérai< driniers:
"All those who in youth acquirea habit
>f drinking whiskey, at forty years of age
vill be total abstainers or drunkards. No
>ne ean use whiskey for years with
nodcration. If there is a person in tho
mdience whose ex peri en ou disputes this,
et him make it known. 1 will account
or it, or acknowledge that 1 labor undei
t mistake."
A tall, large man arose, and folding hi
inns across his breast, said :
•Ί oft'er myself as one whose experience
contradicts your statement."
♦•Arc you >i moderate drinker?'1 asked
he Judge.
•Ί am."
"How long have you drank in modéra
ion?"
••Forty years/'
••And were you never intoxicated?"
••Never."
••Well,*' remarked the Judge, scanning
»is subject closely from head to foot
")υιι..·< is .ι singular wise; yet I think it
easily accounted for. I nm reminded by
it (ΐί η little story: A colored man,
with a loaf of bread and a bottle of whisky,
sat down to dine on the bank of a clear
stream. In breaking the bread he droj>
ped some of the crumbs into the water.
These were eagerly seized and eaten by
the lish. That circumstance suggested to
the darkey the idea of dipping the bread
into the whisky and feeding it to them,
lie tried it. It worked well. Some of
the fish aU) of it, became drunk, and
floated helplessly on the surface. In this
way he easily caught a large number.
But in the stream was a large fish very
unlike the rest. It partook freely of the
bread and whisky, with no perceptible
effect. It was shy of every effort of the
darkey to take it. He resolved to have it
at all hazards, that he might learn its
name and nature, lie procured a net,
and after much effort caught it, carried it
to a colored neighbor, and asked hisopin
ion in the matter. The other surveyed
the wonder a moment, and then said :
\Saiubo, 1 understands dis ease. l)is fish
is a mullet-head ; it aint got any brain!'
In other words," added the Judge, alcohol
affects only the brains, and of course
those having none may drink without
injury."
The storm of laughter which followed
drove the "moderate drinker" suddenly
from the house.—[Southern Sun.
Hlisccllani),
V_- >0
Marriage of Prient λ»
A rase has recently been before the
Court of appeals nt Naples, which shows
how completely Home is losing its tradi
tional power over the people, even in
Italy. Such an appeal am) such a dem
onstration ou the part of the people would
have been an imposgjblit} only a few years
since. Λ prirst (M Treglia, of Saleruo)
desiies to marry ; tin· local tribunal pro
nounced that he couM not, and forbade
the ei\ il ofllcers to take any steps in the
matter. 11?· appealed, and the case was
carried to Naples, and argued by able
advocate*.
The counsel for the priest took the
ground that the civil law regards tnen
only as citizens and without respect to
tlu ir religious (.Mirations. If a man
wi re not disqualified by some failure in
hi·» civil condition, he could not be so
merely by the tart that lie had Utkeu a
vow of celibacy on admission to sacred
orders. He argued, also, that eelibac} i>
iu perfect contradiction to the nature of
man, to the I >i\ iti«> word revealed in the
Script tires, and to the example of Christ,
who srlreted for hi* disciples and ajntstlcs
married men, except .John and Paul ac
cording to the testimony of St. Ambrose
and St. Hilary. (Shout* of applause and
\iva>.) The idea of celibacy had been
conceived to serve the unbridled ambition
of Stephens, the (Jregorys, and the Inno
cents; and killing the soul, the heart,ami
the moral sentiment, it had well cotres
|H>mi· <1 to their anticipations; so great
had been the perfidy and tyranny from
which, through these anointed of the*
I.ord, humility has euffered and still
suffer. To make society moral the priests
must be made moral, and this can only
be accomplished by allowing their mar
riage. (Again loud viv as and applause.)
The advocate for the Romish party op
posed to the priest, said he stood there to
contend only for the law, and its very si
lence on the subject was a proof that the
old state of things was continued. The
practice of several centuries was opposed
to any change. As to the example of
< hrist and his apostles, he had nothing
to do with facts which occurred ιί,'ΝΗ.)
years ago. lie was only concerned with
later practices sanctioned by the applica
tions of Church and State. And he
protested against any changes which
would do violence to the prejudices of the
multitude; what would they think of a
man who said mass in the presence of his
wife and family. He felt assured that
♦ ».*> ίnil<r<> u.uilil r.M.'rf so monstrous an
J Ο " *·
appeal.
The Attorney-General then followed
the advocate of the case in a sj>eech full
of eloquence, ami distinguished by the
most liberal spirit. Like the Advocate
Catucci, he argued that the civil code
recognized all citizens as equal ; and now
that the grand principle of the separation
of Church and State was established they
could only regard the priest in his civil
relations. Let Roman Catholics make
their services as splendid as they liked,
they should have full protection of the
law, as should the member» of all other
religious communions ; but let theni not
attempt to interfere with the State.—
Marriage was honorable and of purely
civil obligations, but if to this persons
wished to add the priestly benediction they
were at liberty to do so, it was au affair
of private conscience, interesting and
much to be recommended. As to the
popular prejudice against the marriage of
priests, that would (lie away when the
people saw them resectable heads of
families. For himself he would iutinitely
rather hold out his hand to a priest who
took his wife to his house than to one who
took his concubine.
The correspondent of the London Times
who gives an account of the argument
says that the speech of the Attorney
General was followed by the most eitra
ordinary demonstrations of applause.
"Hats were lifted ; vivas were shouted,
and a universal clapping of hands ensued
such as I have seen only in the enthusi
astie audience υΐ a theatre. Long ami
loud it continued ; the demonstration was
beyond the power of the priests to atop
it, and numbers came up to congratulnto
and thank the Attorney-General. What
will be the judgmcut of the Court it is
impossible to say precisely, but guided
by the current of public opinion, by the
manner and the antecedents of the
Judges, 1 have no hesitation in saying
that the marriage of priests will receive
the highest sanction of the law."
The Court since declared that the op
position to the priest's marriage is in
admissible, ami directs that the ceremony
shall be proceeded with according to
law.
Hint* on Houae Cleaning.
BY MIW. O. 8. JOIINSOV.
As Ihc spring days approach, the house
wife feels her daily cares increase. Ercry
closet, drawer and piece- bag most lie ran·
sacked, overlooked and cleaned up for
! the coming summer. Carpets must he
taken up and shaken, beds well beaten,
and bedstead* washed in strong brine tu
destroy all insects, etc. As anything that
can lessen the labor of a housekeeper is
desirable, I venture to contribute my
mite. Save tin· t«*a leaves for a few days,
tlu'ii steep them in a tin pail or pan for
half an hour, strain through a sieve, and
iiM» the tea to wash all varnished paint.
It requires very little nibbing or "elbow
polish," as the tea acts a « a strong deter
gent, cleansing the paint from its impuri
ties, and making the varnish shine equal
to new. It cleanses window sashes and
oil-cloths ; indeed, any varnished surface
is improved by its application. It washes
window panes and mirrors much better
than soup and water, and is excellent for
cleansing black walnut picture and look
ing glass frames. It will not do to wash
unvarnished paint with it. Whiting is
unequalled for cleansing white paint.—
Take a small quantity on a «lamp flannel,
rub lightly over the tuiriaeo, and you will
be surprised at its effects. Wall paperj
aie readily cleansed by tying a soft cloth
over a broom and sweeping down the
walls carefully.
The dust and ashes of furnaces and
stoves are deposited in every crack and
rrev ice of otir room.*, and require \ igilant
and active treatment f«»r their removal
; Ail who can afford it will find it a great
j improvement to use straw matting in
summer, and in autumn cover them w ith
j carpet lining or even common nt wspa
! pers, then put down ihe «arpets o\c*r
them. Cleansing silver is not au easy
task ; the u>e of kerosene will greatly fa
cilitate the operation. Wet a tlanuel doth
in the oil, dip in di\ whiting, and thor
oughly rub the plate or silver ware ; throw
it into a dish «»i scalding soap-suds, wipe
with a soft llauncl, and {>oli.sh with a
chamois >kin. Your silver or plate will
l*>ok equal to that exhibited in a jeweler's
window, and will retain its brilliaiic} for
six months, ifoncea week, when washed,
il is|>oli>hed w it h a chamois skin. Uright
silver adds much to the l>cautv of a table,
and it is easily attained by this method,
j Those who use brass andirons w ill tiud it
; equally efficacious iu restoring their bright
ness. Old leather beds and pillows aio
greatly improved by putting them on a
clean gra>s plot during a heavy shower;
let the Ικ-ds become thoroughly wetted,
' turning them on l»oth sides. Let them
j lie out until thoroughly dry, then l>eat
them with rods, this will lighten up the
! feathers, and make them much moie
healthful to sleep upon. Il removes «lust
and rejuvenates the feathers.—[American
j Agriculturist.
Amuse Your Children.
About h year ago somebody asked the
Ktlitor of the Little Corporal, "What shall
eh il (Iron do on rainy days?* The Editor
lives in a country where it rain* Home
times, and I dare *ay, had been sorely
puzzled to answer that question to the
satisfaction of his own little people. At
any rate, he called on all the fathers
and mothers to help him answer it, and
a good many things were suggested by
some of them. We've tried some of them
at our house, and though they work very
well, \et we have come to the conclusion
that, on the whole, the best thing to do
for the children at such times is to let
thetn alone. None but those who have
had a good deal of experience with chil
dren, can have any idea of their wonder
ful inventive powers, and when left to
their own resources for amusement there
! is almost no limit to their contrivances.
(Jive the little folks, where it is possible,
h room to themselves, and leave them to
! their own resources. Suppose they do
I reduce your dining room to utter confu
sion. You can rearrange it in fifteen
minutes, and you have saved two hours
by the operation. I know of a family
where two little boys of live and seven
amused themselves from daylight till
dusk, with only a short interval for lessons
and meals. They had few playthings—
a box of building blocks, an old clothes
line, a pair of scissors, a carpet hammer
and a paper ol tacks, and a box where
all the bright bits of paper that come into
the house are deposited. That is pretty
much all, but on a rainy day, or a cold
one, they take possession of the dining
room, and invent an unceasing round ol
amusement. Suppose we peep in at them.
They have becu busy for au hour, and
very quiet, only the constant chatter ο I
their merry voices and now and then an
exclamatiou. What a litter! You feel a·
if you wanted to run for the broom, but
it is only your stupidity. What y ou take
I to he bits of wnitc ami yellow paper scat·
tered over the floor are beautiful IH lies,
in a green meadow ; that rope zigzaging
around is a little brook, and those clothes
pin» groti|>ed about the dust brush are
children having a picnic under a tall elra
tree! The oldest boy explains it all with
sparkling eyes, that show how real it all
is to him. Perhaps in a few minutes, a
l>ox of buttons will Ihj emptied on the
table, and the buttons arranged in com
panies of soldiers, or the blocks will be
built into cages, and you will hear the
young exhibitor showing off his animals,
and (b e -ribing the elephant as he marche·
along, *·irilh long ears severely shaking."
Just as quick as you try to help them
by any suggestions, you do mischief, and
too many toys arc only an evil. A child's
imagination is vivid enough to help him
out of any difficulties in this line, if you
will only give it play.
Said a busy mother: "I have spent
many hours in reading to my children ;
many in trying to teach them, but never
one. unless they were sick, in trying to
amuse th»*m. They ha\ β Iwen taught from
babyhood to amuse themselves."
So I fed like saying to the hundreds
and thousands of busy mothers, teach
your children to imuse themselves, and to
do thi- you need only to give them the
opportunity, and then let theiu alone.—
[The Little Corporal.
How TO 1>HKAK A t III in II imn .— * ν
do till» effectually you must—
I. Discourage the pantor.
II. Discourage \our fellow-member·.
HI. Distroy the confidence of the com
m unity.
1. To discourage the pastor.
1. Absent yourself from one service
every Sal b»th, or miss at least one in
three ; if he is not very strong, once in
four times may Answer.
2. Neglect prayer and class-meetings.
8. Criticise your minister freely—praise
him sparingly—find fault plentifully—
pray for him little or noue.
4. if ho proposes to hold extra meet
ings, withhold your cooperation.
5. (jive yourseU no concern whether
his salary is paid or not.
G. Never call on hiui socially, or allow
him to think that his comfort or that of
lib family is a matter of any importance
i:i y »ir eyes.
II. 1 ο discourage your fellow-member*.
1. Observe the directions given above.
Ί Complain about everything they do
and don't do.
3. Contrive to make yourself the head
of a clique, and by their assistance and
your own industry, keep the church in hot
water generally.
1. \\ bile doingthis, lose no opportunity
to couiplaiu of the bad tre itmeut you are
receiving.
ô. Be as much like Diotrephes aud as
little like 1'aulas you can.
C. Discard charity and candor, take
distrust to your liosom, and make schciu·
ing your specialty.
III. To destroy the confidence of the
community.
1. Obseivcthe foregoing directions.
1. Tell the people that you are in the
church by force of circumstances, but
have no respect lor the way· in which
business is conducted.
i'ubli-h the faults of your brethren,
taking care to magnify them.
4. .Make no effort to inducc people to
attend the chui eh
Take η » part in the labors of the
Sunlay-schot >1.
li Publish it on all occasions that you
; ha\enoeontideucein thecouceru—predict
; th it it must fall—g«> down—blow up—
; and never can succeed.
By observing these direction!» faithfully,
you may Imv.· the »atisfaction, if the
chure'i i> not unusually \ igorous, of wit·
needing the fulfillment of ) our predic·
; tious.—[Irish r.vangelist.
()hi MnhlH.
There is a sligmaof reproach east upon
the term "old maid»''—to·;» often ju>tly so
I admit. But where does the fault lie' 1
! L in » v\ two women who may becast in the
! category—unmarried, forty years old, or
thereabouts. Iloth are of good family,
the dau^hten of wealthy men. The one,
some dozen years ago, finding, as no
sensible wo in λ η can l'ail to tin·), that
fashion tble life had nothing in it to satisfy
her, made a stand for herself. She told
her family that she must have a life of her
own. She had no especial gilts, except
a remarkable aptitude for business, in
herited from her father. In a quiet way
she had turned her attention to fruit
growing, η branch of ir.dustr)· offering
many attractions to her, and into that
ι business she determined to enter. Fortu
I nately she had sufficient money left her
ι by her grand-father, to be able to carry
out her plans, dispitc the sneers of her
fashionable acquaintance, and the objec
, rions and obstacles raised by the home
I circle. She e*tablished herself on a fruit
farm in the western part of the State.
Her work prospered. Now she is the
owner of several hundred acres, and has
constant and remunerative occupation of
a kind agreeable to her. After a few
years her father died, and, instead of the
rich man he was estimated, he was found
to be bankrupt. This daughter had a
comfortable home and support to offer
her mother and invalid sister. She has
quite a settlement of work people, men
and women, to whom she and her sisters
ministered in vatious ways. In fact, she
lives a life which is useful to others and
develops her own powers, and in the con
sciousness of that she finds happiness and
peace.—[Lippincott's Magazine.