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The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, May 13, 1864, Image 1

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THE MGm & INTELLIGENCER.
S! PER ANNUM.
A. H. GREENFIELD,
Corner of Main street and Port Deposit
avenue , Del Jiir ,
IS constantly aiming to meet the wants
of the community in FRESH
FAMILY 6HOGMIEB!
Teas, Spices, Coflees, Fish, Lard, Butter,
Bacon, Cheese, &.C., &x. Also,
SEASONABLE DRY GOODS,
NOTIONS, &c.
Boots, Shoes, Hals, Caps, &.c., Queens
ware, Stone and Earthenware, Tin Ware,
Wooden Ware, Hardware, &.c.
BEST COAL OILS,
COAL OIL LAMPS,in great va iety. I
Also, in
SA3IHOKA3I3 StimOUT
NEW BONNETS, in 'every variety of
style and material, for Ladies and Chil
dren.
Cleaning, Altering and Re-!
pairing (1 'tie at reasonable notice—all at
Baltimore prices.
TERMS CASH. janl
Franklin ville Store
Baltimore County.
KEEP constantly on hand a large and
well assorted stock of all kinds of
Goods adapted to the wants of the public,
such as
Dry Goods, Groceries,
sm&s*
MTOTioxae,
CHINA AND GLASS WARE,
In fact any and every variety of articles |
necessary to a well assorted stork, all of
which will be sold at very lowest Cash j
prices. The Factory being in operation,
it affords a fine market for
for which the highest prices will be paid.
The public are invited to call. fe26 !
lIWGOODS.
THE undersigned have just received a
large and well selected stock of Goods
suitable for the season. They are con
stantly making up the neatest work, and
the newest and most fashionable style of
Bonnets for the Spring and Snm
mer, to which they invite the alien- !
V©. lion of the citizens of the town and j
the surrounding country. They also de- j
sire an occasional call from their Baltimore |
friends, when they want something of ex
tra style and finish, as they are aware that
the undersigned can and will lake pleasure
in putting up work of that description.
In addition to all styles of Bonnets,
they keep constantly on hand a variety of 1
LADIES’ AND GENTLEMEN’S
SMA** VASS,
Such ns Ribbons, Laces, Gloves, Hosiery,
Suspenders, and many other articles in
the Notion line.
Thankful for the liberal patronage here
tofore given the firm, they expect by strict
attention to business to merit its continu
ance.
M. J. WRIGHT &. MITCHELL, j
Washington street, two doors north of j
the Railroad, and next door to Nixon’s I
Hotel, Havre-de-Grace. sep‘2s j
BAUCH’S
RAW-BONE PHOSPHATE
Uuaurpnsscd for producing a
Heavy Growth of Corn Oats, Potatoes,
AND ALL SPRING CROPS,
And permanently enriching the Soil!
It contains the Fertilizing Properties of
Guano, Bone, Stable Manure and Lime!
*WiIODUCING in many cases larger
X crops by fifty per cent, than either of!
the above articles, when used separately. |
It is a highly concentrated' manure, be
ing made from Bones containing all their
original animal matter. No Burnt Bones
are used.
It has been used by thousands of far
mers in this State, with the higher satis
faction. It has proved a perfectly reliable
substitute for “Peruvian Guano,” being 1
sufficiently quick in its action on the!
crops, and in all eases enriching the soil, j
and it is permament in its ( fleets.
The demand last Fall was’greatcr than 1
the supply. It would be well, therefore,
for farmers to send in their orders eaily,'
eithei to the subscriber or to any of his
agents, from whom circulars can be ob- 1
tamed, giving a list of many persons who
have used it, and certificates.
Price in Baltimore, §55 per 2000 lbs.
Cash.
GEORGE DUGDALE,
Sole Agent, No. 105 Smith’s Wharf,
feb4-3m Baltimore. 1
COAL! COAL!
n’HF. undersigned keeps constantly on
X hand all kim.s of WHITE and RED \
ASH COAL, which he will sell by the 1
cargo or single ton.
JOSEPH M. SIMMONS, i
jul7 Havre-de-Grace, Md. i
WANTED- —One nr two JOURNEY
MEN BLACKSMITHS.
Enquire of .MARTIN CAI.PER, j
♦W F4klrsft!'i!l t Ha.fonl 0>. ¥
“LET US CLING TO THE CONSTITUTION AS THE MARINER CLINGS TO THE LAST PLANK WHEN THE NIGHT AND TEMPEST CLOSE AROUND HIM.”
THE AIIS AND MTEIUSENCEt
IS PUBLISHED
EVERY FRIDAY MORNING,
ay
BATEMAN & BAKER,
AT
ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, j
IV ADVANCE, OTHERWISE
ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY CENTS
Will be charged.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
One square, (eight lines or less.) three inset- ;
tions, Sl.oo. Each subsequent insertion 25 cts. j
Due square three months, 53.00; Six months, !
$5 00; Twelve months, SB.OO.
business cards of six lines or less, $5 a year.
No subscription taken fur less than a year. I
IJflctintl.
BY SHIP.
In the purple flush of the twilight dim,
Way out on the ocean’s most distant rim,
1 watch tor my ship in her gallant trim.
Pray tell me, good friends, have you seen my
[ ship,
Her satin sails in the blue ocean dtp?
I 1 say sometimes with a quivering lip.
| “What's the caplniu’s name,” they ask, with a
smile,
| And 1 know they’re wondering all the while
| At my sad question, so quaint in its stylo.
| My ship’s the most royal you e'er did behold;
j And Strength was the name of the captain bold,
j And Health was the freight, of value untold.
| Some years ago, on a drear stormy day,
I She spread her bright sails and flew far away ;
j Oh! watch for her coming, good sailor, 1 pray.
| Toward the hike of Sunrise she turned her how,
[ And the Idue waves surged round her shining
prow,
| 'Tis graved on my brain, I sec it now.
j So o’er that dark ocean I still keep my eye,
I'll watch for my ship lilt the day that I die;
I've faith she will come though 1 do not know
why.
Then watch for her coming, good sailor, I pray,
j be sure that you tell me the very same day,
] And whether she's anchored in river or bny.
llTisfdlanffliis.
The Ctoss on the Old Church Tower.
Up the dark stairs that led to this poor
home strode a gloomy-faced young man
with despair in his heart and despairing
; words on his lips.
“I will struggle and suffer no longer;
| my last hope has failed, and life become a
burden, I will rid myself of it at once.’’
As ho muttered wildly to himself, he
flung wide the door and was about to en
ter, but paused upon the for
a glance told him that he had uuconscious
ly passed his own apartment and come up
higher, till ho found himself in a room
poorer but more cheerful than his own.
Sunshine streamed through the one small
window, where a caged bird was blithely
singing, and a few flowers blossomed in
the light. But blither than the bird’s
song, sweeter than the flowers, was the lit
tle voice and wan face of a child, who lay
| upon a bed placed where the warmest suo
i beams fell.
The face turned smiling on the pillow,
and the voice said pleasantly,—
“Come in, sir, Bess will toon be back if
j you will wait.”
i “1 want nothing of Bess. Who is she
j and who are you?” asked the intruder
j pausing as he was about to go.
"Shu is my sister, sir, and I’m ‘poor
| Jamie’as they call me. But indeed, lam ,
j nut to be pitied, for I am a happy child,
j thuugh it may not seem so.”
“Why do you lie there ? are you
sick ?”
“No, I am not sick, though I shall
never leave my bed again. See, this is
whyand, folding back the covering,
the child showed his little withered limbs.
“How long have you lain here, my poor
I boy V asked the stranger, touched aud
interested in spite of himself.
“Three years, sir.”
“And yet you uro happy 1 What in
heaven’s name have you to render you con
tented, child ?”
“Come sit beside me, and I'll tell you,
i sir : that is, if you please, 1 should love to
talk with yon, for it is lonely hero when
Bess is gone.”
Something in the child’s winning voice, j
and the influence of the cheerful room, j
calmed the young man’s troubled spirit
aud seemed to lighten his despair. He |
sal down at the be:side looking gloomily
upon the child, who lay smiling placidly
[ as with skilful hands be carved small fig
ures from the the bits of wood scattered
round him on the coverlid
“What have you to make you happy,
Jamie? Tell me your secret, for I ueed
the knowledge very much,” said his new
friend earnestly.
“Fust of all I have dear Bess,” and the
| child’s voice, lingered lovingly upon the
name; “she is so good, so very good to
me, uo one eon tell how much we love
each other. Ali day, she sits beside my
■ bed singing to ease my pain, or reading
; while 1 work ; she gives mo flowers aud
i birds and all the sunshine that Comes in to
| ns, and sits there in the shadow that
may be warm and glad. She waits on me
all day; but when 1 wake at night, I al
ways s. u her sewing bu-ily, and know it
is It r me, —my good, bind Bess I
“Thun I hate my work, fir, to amuse
may arid it l.otysa little Yjn, for kind
BEL AIR, MI). FRIDAY MORNING, MAY 13, 1564.
children always buy my toys, when Bess
tells them of the little boy who carved
them lying here at home, while they play
out among the grass and flowers where he
can never be.’’
“Wbat else, Jamie?” and the listener’s
face grew softer as the cbectful voice went
on.
I “I have my bird, sir, and my roses, I
j have books, and best of all, I Lave the
cross on the old church tower. I can see
; it from my pillow and it shines there all
day long, so bright and beautiful, while
the white doves coo upon tbo roof below
I love it dearly.”
The young man looked out throagh the
narrow window and saw, rising high above
the house-tops, like a finger pointing
heavenward, the old gray tower and the
gleaming cross. The city’s din was far
below, aud through the summer air the
faint coo of the doves and the flutter of
their wings came down, like peaceful coun
try sounds.
“Why doyoulovc if, Jamie?” he asked,
looking at the thoughtful face that lit up
eagerly as the boy replied,—
“Because it does,me so much good, sir.
Bess told me long ago about the blessed Je
sus who bore so much forus,and I longedto
bo ns like him ns a little child could grow.
So when my pain was very sbaru, I look
ed up there, and thinking of the things ho
suffered, tried so hard to bear it that I often
could ; hut sometimes when it was too bad,
instead of fretting Bess, I’d cry softly,
looking up there nil the time and asking
Him to help mo be a patient child. 1
think ho did ; and now it seems so like a
friend to me I love it better every day. 1
watch the sun climb up along the roofs in
the morning, creeping higher and higher
till it shines upon the cross and turns it
into gold. Then through the day I watch
the sunshine fade away till all the rod goes
from the sky, and for a little while I can
not sec it through the dark ; but the moon
comes, aud I lovo it better then ; for ly
ing awako through the long nights, I see
the cross so high and bright with stars all
shining round it, I feel still and happy in
my heart as wheu Bess sings to mo in the
twilight.”
“But when there is no moon, or clouds
hide it from you, what then, Jamie?”— 1
asked the young man, wondering if there
were uo cloud to darken the cheerful
child's content.
“I wait till it is clear again, and feel 1
that it is there, although I cannot suo it, i
sir. I hope it never will be [taken down, 1
for the light upon the cross seems like that'
I see in dear Bessie’s eyes when she holds j
me in her arms and culls me her patient
Jamie. She never kuows I try to bear
my troubles for her sake, as she bears
hunger and cold for tniue. So you see,
sir, how many things I have to make mo a
happy child.”
“I would gladly lie down on your pillow
to be half as light of heart as you are, lit
tle Jamie, for 1 have lost my faith in eve
rything aud with it all my happiness;”
and the heavy shadow which had lifted
for a while fell lack darker than before
upon the anxious face beside the bed.
“If I were well and strong like you, sir,
I tbiuk I should be so tbaukful nothing
could trouble me;” and with a sigh the
boy glanced at the vigorous frame and en
ergetic countenance of his new friend,
wondering at the despondent look he
wore.
“If you were poor, so poor you had no
means wherewith to get a crust of bread,
nor a shelter for the night; if you wore j
worn out with suffering and labor, soured
by disappointment and haunted by am- j
bilious hopes never to be realized, what
would you do, Jamie ?” suddenly asked |
the young man, prompted by the desire
tbat every human heart has felt for sycu- 1
pnthy and counsel, oven from the little
creature before him, ignorant and inexpe
rienced as be was.
But the child, wiser in his innocence
than many an older counsellor, pointed
upward, saying with a look of perfect
trust, —
“I should look up to the cross upon the
tower and think of what Bess told me
about God, itfho feeds tho birds aud
clothes the fluwers, and I should wait pa
tiently, feeling sure He would remember
me."
With au altered feeling in Lis heart,
and a brave smile on his lips, the young
man went away, leaving tho child with
another happy memory, to watch the cross
upon tho old church tower. —From a sto
ry by Miss L. M. Akott.
Necessity of Relaxation.— Bayard
Taylor says—and truly—iu one respect we
might probably imitate the Germans.—
Our sorest need, as a people, is recrea
tion—relaxation of tho everlasting tension
of our laborious lives. Among our Teu
ton.c cousins, a certain amount of recrea
tion, public as wall us domestic, is a part
ot every man’s life. Tlio poorest laborer
has his share—must have it—and the
tread-mill round of his years is brightened
and sweetened by it. Our seasons of re
creation being so rare, too frequently take
the character of excess. They are char
acterized by the same hurry ar.d flurry
with which wo prosecute our business.—
If wo shall ever incorporate regular periods
of general relaxation in our working cal
endar, we shall boa healthier and happier
people than we are Dow.
KsyThaddeus Slovens, of Pennsylvania,
who has worn a wig for these twenty
years, was lately tippled to iu behalf of!
the St. Louis Sanitary Fair fora lock of!
bis hair to put ia a Congressional wreath.;
* “The Blind Men” of the London Post
1 osp3.
’ From an English publication, “The
2 Leisure Hour,” wo obtain tho following
interesting description of tho peculiar du
* ties of tiio “blind men” in tbo General
Post Office, London :
. j The table of the “blind man” : s the
[ calmest spot iu tho building. Theirs is
| j no work of mere mechanical dexterity
j tbat can be brought by constant practice
|jto a dazzling rapidity of execution. It
requires much searching iu dictionaries,
j much guessing, much mental effort, to
solve mpst.pf the riddles in writing and
spelling that come upon their table.
’! The irregular combinations of the al
> phabut alone present a boundless field ot
\! variety to the ignorant aud the persever
ing; aud wheu tho combinations of Chris
tian names and surnames, names of towns,
and names of counties, ;;j well us the
forms of letters, aud the parts of a letter’s
proper superscription; some to bo added,
1 -ajilbmetio can hardly convey the result.
1 It is to this table tbat all those riddle let
ters find their way, upon whose surface
Islington is spelt and written “East Lin
ton;’’ and the late Iron Duke is addressed,
’ lung after his death, as tho “i)uk hor
welientuu, Iu ark corner Loudon euglent,
’ or hu is wear.”
I The “blind men” arc often called upon
to decipher such directions as the fullow
i ing, conveyed in the most undecided of
| j handwritings: “To Mrs. Slater to the
I; Prince of wales in fitz Roy place Kintes
tou London paid.” -Tho “blind men”
■ decide that this means the “Prince of
| Wales” public house, Fitzroy Place, Ken
tish town ; and their verdiot is final.
Sometimes comic boys address their
’ I relatives in London, iu the rudest picto
rial form, giving a good deal of trouble to
I I the “bliud men.’’ A picture of a garden
I and a street, with a fancy portrait of the
1 poison for whom this letter is intended,
I drawn outside the note by a not very
1 artistic youth of seven years of age,
is not calculated to ease tho sorting labor
>of tbo central post-office, addressed to
I “My Uncle Jon, in London;” “Wilm
| Stratton, commonly called teapot Woeliu;”
I I “Mary Ann Street, Red Rive lane Luke
; St., next door to the ocean ;” “To No. 3
| Crus babry Row for the Female whitb the
infant up Bromley Stairs;” “Aon Poror
j at Mrs. Wiuhursts No. 24 Next door to
I two to one;’ “Mikell Uoodiiff at St. Nouts
Printts to a Shoo Maker Mis his name
' not known Mrs. Cooper is grandmother
ito the Lad ;” “ehza clarck saxton hotel
i saint luord hon so;” and “the fauke
: Tagho Warkitt ill Wise Comse Wile of
Wythe;” with many more like them have
come and are constantly coming under the
notice of this branch of the sorting de
partment.
Tho “blind men” feel a professional ar
tistic pride in mastering every diifioulty,
although tho difficulty is to be taken to
tho laud’s end for the small charge of a
penny. Failing all attempts t) make
clear that which is never to be road in
this world, tho interior (after the proper
forms have been observed) is at last looked
into, only to present a larger aud more
enigmatic surface still. The only colora
ble explanation that can be given of the
mystery, based upon the average number
of riddles that come before tho “bliud
men,” is, that some Irish hop picker, pass
ing through London on his road to Kent,
is anxious to communicate with a relative
in some part of his native country.
The sorting office for newspapers and
! packets is upon an upper floor, and is
i reached by an endless staircase, worked
! by machinery, which revolves and ascends,
i like the spokes of a treading mill. Tho
business ia this department is very similar
to that below, except that the sorting pro
ceeds mote slowly, and the packets, while
fewer, are much larger.
The “bliud maa” here is chiefly engaged
with the newspapers whoso moist address
es have cither come off or been partially
lorn, and this work, like that of the lower
department, is tho heaviest on Friday
night, the great newspaper despatch night,
of tho week. He employs himself a good
deal in guessing the kind of newspaper)
which would probably go to certain indi
viduals, when ho fiuds himself with a I
number of addresses wi‘bout papers, aud I
a number of papers without addresses.
No disappointment is so bitter to the |
country resident as to miss his weekly !
I budget of news and reading, when he |
comes down to breakfast on a Saturday |
morning, or to tear open a cover and find I
a Tory organ, which he hates, in the place
of the Whig organ, which ho loves. The
newspaper “blind man’’ performs bis work
as carefully as he can, and if bo does make
au occasional mistake in sending the
wrong paper to the wrong man, his coun
trymen must forgive him, when they know
the difficulties with which he has to con
tend.
— -<* S K
Success in Life —Keep tho law of
duty now ever before you; let it bo your
never-failing pillar of light. Bo brave, j
aud uo the square with your conscience |
to the last. Your success in life may not I
be equal to your hopes or your deserts; it I
is not in man to insure success. The best j
and wisest of us may fail in the struggle;
but we may have our consolation even
then. To gain the world’s applause, and
snatch its fleeting spoils, is not man’s sole
and proper business here. Immortality
.-miles forth on the scene, and beckons him
ever onwards in tho race for those eternal
honors which the world can neither give
! nor take away—the prize which all may
strive for, and no one strive iu vain.— Dr.
* Murkhjtn.
1 • * • - V , 1
I Shakspeare.
If Homer nodded, it must be confessed
i that Shakspeare sometimes trifled. It is
, vain adulation to siy that everything he
did vvas equally good ; or that ho never
1 ! sauk, and never was weak. All that
j should be said, whore he is found to be
. j so, is, that ho worked chiefly for money ;
, i and to achieve success with his audience,
- was too often yvith him tho main motive
, fur writing. This practical part of bis
character it was that made him so great
when he was great. There is never any
, j mere display in his writings; nothing
| like fine writing merely for the sake of
i fine writing. He began, and perhaps
. I ended his career by adapting old plays to
[ a new fashion. In this cobbling work ha
displayed sumo wonderful work of his
own. His marvellous imagination was
kindled by the old material, and ho some
times embossed it, and sometimes throw
it utmrly aside, putting in a now work of
the rarest kind. Occasionally, when ha
really got bold of a subject be liked, he
gradually supplanted the antique work I
with an entire new play, as regarded all
but tho story. It is this mode of produc
tion that makes his plays such a puzzle to
tho ordinary reader. Haro seems a lump
1 of clay close by an ingot of gold; there
rubbish and jewels are inextricably inter
mixed.
It is tho opinion of those who Lave
very minutely searched into the construc
tion of Shakspeare's dramas, that every
one ot them was founded on soma prece
dent play It is also obvious that Shak
epeara did- as little as lie possibly could,
probably always having an eye to the pres
ervation of all tbat was then deemed pop
ular. Being an actor and a manager,
popularity was always a necessary object 1
of all his aims. These views may bo i
thought to be poor and low by those who j
are not strictly guided by the practical; j
but it was the possession of these notions
that enabled the great dramatist to pro
duce such tremendous effects as ha has
on all lime and all persons. llis mighty
genius manifested itself spontaneously,
and shone out amidst all these trammels,
and amidst much old trash, with a splen
dor which cun only be compared to tho op
erations of nature, who casts some of
her most beautiful forms and productions
amidst a debris that wo are accustomed to
consider rubbish.
A Marvelous Incident.
In the course of our reading wo remem
ber to have uiet with a few cases whore,
at the moment of death, a vision of the
dead has appeared to friends at a great
distance from tho plane of death, as it to
give notice of the event; but those instan
ces were iu Europe, and occurred a long I
time ago—so one might doubt their au-1
thenticity, or at least bo excused fur not l
accepting them os verities, and the- wore
since nothing of the kind was ever heard
of iu h s own region. Wo have now a
caso which is free from these objections,
and is quite as extraordinary as any that
have been recorded.
A friend (whose name wo do net give
simply because wo did nil happen to ask
his authority for publication) recently call-!
ed on us, who has lost u son in tbo army,'
an officer of good promise serving under!
General Banks. Wo alluded to the great
loss of our friend, and iu conversation on
the subject, he said a very remarkable
thing had happened to him in connection
with it. When he had no reason to doubt
the well-being of ids son, and had no anx
iety fir him, beyond what was usual,
and was sleeping calmly, he was suddenly
awakened, by a shock as if be bad been
slwt through the head. His first thought
was that be had been shot —or, to use his
own expression,“This is Death.” But the
next instant a vision of his son appeared
to him, and the impression was that his son
and not himself was killed.
He had never believed in ghosts, or
spiritual manifestations; nor did be at the
occurrence of tho vision, nor does he now,
undertake to account for ,it, or call it s
j spiritual manifestation. He did not ro
j cord the date or hour; but he did in the j
| morning relate the circumstance to two of
bis friends. They did not record the
j date ; but whoa, about three weeks after
j wards, intelligence was received of tho
j death of the son by a shot throagh the
j head, at Port Hudson, at G o’clock in the
| morning, the recollection of one of them j
i was that the vision and the death wore on I
j the same day, aud of the other that the I
i vision was on the same day or the next I
day after the death of his >on. Such WuS.j
the account given to us; and wo have Do i
doubt of its truth. Our friend would not j
trifle on a matter which to him has cot)
only the solemnity of tl.e grave, but it;
also touches his keenest attention. —Uer-
monl Watchman and Freeman.
%
I
ts®“Aubur, the composer, is eighty-two :
years old, yet ho ia fond of theatres atur*
sight-.-eeiug as ever, and never misses a
new opera or a military review, lie is;
j also very fond of horses, and spends two 1
j hours every morning in talking to and,
j caressing them. He is a baohoiof, amf)
I bis servants have ail leea- with him fori
| many, tunny years.
—, ■—..
True Friendship.— lnsects twarm ,
around you iu the sunshine, but only the
faithful dog stays by in a storm,
KB* The grand essentials of happiness
in this life are, something to do, some
thing *o hope for, aud something to lute.
figyAn honest farmer writes to an ng
ricultmal ac/ciety, “Gen's , please pot me
1 down on y.ur list of cattle for bull.”
YOL. VIII. —NO. 20.
- —-u_! ■ama
A Sweet Wife.
Mrs, X , wlio resides ia our san
atoria! district, had a neighbor, who was
represented to bo quarrelsome in his farai
-ly, making liis-home anything but a pleas
ant abode. She, however, bearing that his
wife was a good deal of a vixen, though*
that the wife might bo blamed for the
unpleasant state of affairs in the house
hold. Si, full of charity and the doc
trines of the law of kindness, Mrs. X ——
visited her neighbor’s bouse, with the
benevolent intent of reconciling the differ
ences existing there, and addressed tbo
better half something in this stylo :
“Now, you know,” said sho, “how much
pleastnier it v;ou!d be if you and your
husband would live together without quar
reljiug; both you and your children
would bo happier; and instead of beings
reproach to tho neighborhood, you might
become honored members of society.—
And It may be,” she continued, “you are
not altogether blameless in this matter.—
j Suppose you try and see what the law of
I kindness practiced towards your husband
will do in effecting a reconciliation. It
certainly can do no harm, and you may
succeed ia touching the tender chords of
his heart, and he may renew his old affec
tion. Try it,” she urged, “and if you do
not succeed you will at least heap coals of
fire on bis Lead,” and so on.
Ail this was listened to, when this reply
was made:—
“I doa’t know about your coals of fire ;
I've tried hoilinj hot water, and it didn't
do a oii oj good — Harper's Monthly.
__ The Clou that Came to Life.—A
gentleman v?ho was arranging tho grounds
around his house, stumbled over a lump
of earth which had rolled from a new un
j loaded heap of gravel. He kicked it
j aside, and bade the gardener’s son remove
j it with other rubbish.
The boy carried the clod to a spout be
neath the caves of his father’s cottage,
whore tho rain fell upon it. Whether it
contained seed, slip, or root, is not known ;
but ere long a beautiful vine' sprang out
of it, which shaded and adorned the cot
tige, and was yearly loaded with grapes
of the choicest kind, which the gentleman
was glad to buy at a high price of the far
j'iier’s son, who would by uo-means part
with his vine.
The hidden principles of a sublime
growth are lying ia many a clod, now quite
valueless and unsightly to those who re
gard theuise!vcs|the rich and accomplished
of the earth. But the clod would coma
to life, end bear fruit high above their
heals, if tbn were only some one to give
to it a few drops from the eaves.
•** • > ... ■
Human Over-Work.—A v-duabls
| medio.il remark is given below :
The majorityof tho fatal diseasesarising
I from over-work are now discovered.—
j Give a human being over-work and defi
| cient food, and ho is the victim of diarrhea
and dysentery. Give him over-work and
bad air, and ho is the victim of consump
| tion. Gvc him over mental work, with
I whatever air and whatever food, and he is
| the victim of brain disease, and of one or
other of its sequences ; insanity, paralysis,
i diabetes, premature death in any case ;
death by suicide not unfrequently. Give
him over-work purely physical, with air,
with food, and the laboring heart, trying
to kvep up against its weariness, succumbs;
and so the over-worked smith, boatman,
or wood heaver,, falls suddenly, not more
honored (ban tho prize-fighter of to-day,
or tbo licet slave and gladiator of a past
and more barbarous age.— Dr Richard
son ,
SIUR? IlrTußT.—Two young ladies
wore tiding in a car. One of thorn, with
features remarkable* for a prominence of
nose, exhibited to the other a photograph
of herself, and they were engaged in dis
cuiMh.g its merits when an eldorly lady
got in. After a while she reached out her *
haul, and raid to the lady with the pic
ture :
“Please to let me look at it 7”
Her modest request was met with the
indignant reply :
“It ia none of your business.'’
The old lady settled hack in her seat
very complacently, when tho companion
of die one with the picture asked :
“What do you want with it ?"
‘Ob ! nothing,” replied tho old lady,
“I only wanted to see how successfully the
artist Las but such a large nose on on so
small a picture.”
How Adrian Helped an Old Sot
i dier to Get His Back Robbed —Tho
Emperor Adrian used to hatiie frequently
io public, a habit which gavo rise to a
capital joke. One day seeing an old sol
dier, whom he had known in tho army,
rubbing his hack against a marble slab,
; after coming out of the hath, he inquired
the reason. The veteran answered that
’ he had no servant to do it for him ; where
upon die Emperor ordered him a set Vint
with towels. The next day about a dozen
old fellows appeared, rubbing their backs
against tbo murlde, thinking the fimperor
would be r.s liberal to them as he had hern
to thtrr companion. But lie was not thn
man to bn humbugged in that way ; and
calling thorn to him, he suggested, in tho
blandest manner, that the best thing they
j could do would be to rub each other's
backs, and lie followed up bis advice by
ordering them to go at it.
Jfcif The old provarh f.ez, “Giv ai'fg
garahoss,and he will ride tew the devil.”
1 think i shod bo in favor of triing this
experiment, if the devil would oul return
the boss —-Josh BHiingt.

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