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THE iEGrIS & INTELLIGENCER.
' U;i ,1 l.i '.I , —■ ——- ' ' - ' i _ . J. , . . - ■ v t.fy / ■ -■? i • “LET US CLING TO Tllli CONSTITUTION AS THE MARINER CLINGS TO THE LAST PLANK WHEN THE NIQUT AND TEMPEST CLOSE AROUND HlM.*’ .. , $1.50 PER ANNUM. RET. AIR, Ml). FRIDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 25, 1864. VOL. Yin.— NO. 48. 8188 & CO. ' Baltimore Stove House,! No. 39 LIGHT STREET, The season is mu :;i hand to hnv yotir 1 SToVRS, FDUN.V ES, RANGES, &.C j Also look and see what repairs you want ! clone to your stoves, and send in voter or ders early, ilmt we tnuy execute them at onre. Further thlay nun cause you in-! convent 'ttee. Don’t forget that we arc still selling that l matchless Fire place Stove the “OEM” To heat Ist, 2d and 3d stories, at a re- i doeed pr <••, and also the Re-i in proved 1 .“OLD DOMINION” Cook Stove, that) has so nobly stood the lest over all com petitors. Send in vour orders earlv to 8188 St, CO., Baltimore Stove House, 39Light street, Baltimore. N. B. —Old Stoves and Iron taken in exchange. o7 Franklinville Store Baltimore County. KEEP constantly on hand a large and I well assorted slock of all kinds ofi Goods adapted to the wants of the public, such as Dry Goods, Groceries, EAEBWARS, SFSSafo NOTIONP, CHINA AND GLASS WARE, In fact any and every variety of articles I necessary to a well assorted stock, all of; which will be sold at very lowest (’ash prices. The Factory being in opeiation. it affords a line market for WJTOY 3MTTO, for which the highest prices will he paid. > The public are invited to call. fe26 j new edobs. ; THE undersigned have just received a : * large and well selected slock of Goods ; suitable for the season. They are con- i siantly making up the neatest work, and ! the newest and most fashionable si vie of Bonnots for the Spring and Snm- K&D mer, to which they invite the atlen urS. tion of the citizens of the town and the surrounding country. They also de 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 take pleasure in putting up work of that description. In addition to all styles of Bonnets, they keep constantly on hand a variety of; LADIES’ AND GENTLEMEN’S SHWIr. WARS* Such as Ribbons, Laces, Gloves, Hosiery. Suspenders, and many other articles in the Notion line. Thankful for the liberal patronage here tofore given the (inn, they expect by strict attention to business to merit its continu ance. M. J WRIGHT St MITCHELL, Washington street, two doors north of the Railroad, anil next door to Nixon’s; Hotel, Havkb-de-Gkace. sep2s FARMERS, TAKE NOTICE ! WE are at all times paying in cash Port Deposite prices lor GRAIN, AT OCR WAREHOUSE IN liapidum, Harford County, IMCd. Have also on hand a large and well se lected slock of JJVVeiI seasoned and of good quality. EINE BONE, GUANO, PHOSPHATE, PLASTER & SALT, Constantly on hand. Farmers will find it to their interest to give us a call. ANDREW ABELS, ju26 Agent for Davis & Pugh. BRAND ifilH’S PILLS. THE Weak, the Consumptive, Rheuma- J- tic. Costive, Bilious and Delicate,after some days’ use will find renewed strength and lile pervade every organ ol their frames. Every dose makes the blood purer.— Tne nerves commence in the arteries and terminate ia the veins. These pills, as a 1 first effect, act upon the arietial blood, in- j creasing the circulation, by which impuri ties are deposited in the veins, and they throw iT such collections into the bowels, which organs, by the energy derived from I Branilrelh’s Pills, expel diem from the! system. When first used, the Pills may | occasion griping and even make the pa- I dent fetd worse. This is an excellent sign, and shows the disease will soon I e cured. N o great good is often achieved; without some trouble in its attainment, and this rule applies to the recovery ot ! heal tit. For sale by til respectable dealers hi : m-diMiiM toy 37 i HiE ms AN3 INTELLIGENCER is iTiu.ianED | EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BY BATEMAN & BAKER, AT I ! One Dollar and Fifli/ Cents Per Annum , IS ADVANCE, OTHEItVVISB i TWO DOLLARS WILL I)E CHARGED. RATES OF ADVERTISING. One square, (eight linos or loss.) Ilireo inser tions. SI,OO. Each subsequent insertion 25 cts. One square tlireo months, $3.00; Six months, i $5 00: Twelve months. SB.OO. Business curds olsis lines or less, $5 a year. | No subscription taken for less than a year. j Partial. BENEVOLENCE. A benevolent man was Absalom Bess; At each and every tale Of distress Ho blazed rijjht up like a rocket ; He felt for all beneath poverty’s smart, Who were fated to. hear life’s ion idlest part, I He felt for them in his inmost heart, Hut never felt in his pocket. I He didn’t know rightly what teas meant By the Bible's promised four hundred per cent.. For charity's each donation ; But he acted os if he thought railroad stocks, And bonds secure heneith earthly locks, Were better, with pockets brimful! of rocks, Than heavenly speculation. Vet all said he was an excellent man ; For the poor he’d preach, for the poor he'd plan; To better them ho was willing; But the oldest man who heard him pray, And preach for the poor in a pitiful way, Could hardly remember him rightly to say Mr. Bess had e’er given a shilling. O, an excellent man was Absalom Bess, And the world threw up its hands to bless A man so well inlcntiuned; lint he died one day, he did. and 0, He wen! where the par value was low Of such souls, and you don't want to go— A place that shan't be mentioned. I IPiscfHaiuirirs. BAD COMPANY. BV T. S. ARTHUR. “I'm afraid you are keeping bad com pany.” The young man to whom this was ad dressed started, colored, mid looked more ihim hall offended. Counteuunuo and maimer rejected the intimation, j “An enemy hath spoken evil of me,” was lii> firmly uttered reply. “It is not from the evil which men say of that wo suffer injury. It is the evil ; lone in us that r. nliy hurts,”' “You are a little mysterious fo-day, | \ Uncle Philip. What has had company to | Ido with imu-r-wi ought evil ? As to the 1 bad company, however, it is but right \ that I should make to you a firm denial.” I “In the face of which, Henry, I must repmt that I am afraid you are keeping j bad company,” replied the uncle, with a seriousness that left no doubt of bis being in earnest. A struggle in the young man’s mind be tween anger and affection was plainly vis iblu. His eyes, calm and reproachful, I rested upon his uncle's countenance. Af ter a momentary silence, he said : “I thought you knew me hotter, Unele Pllilip. What have L done to forfeit your confidence ? To make my word in your regard as the idle wind ? I have bud nothing in life to hurt me like tbi-!” Ajni the young man turned partly away to biilu the emotion that was getting too ntroiig for him. “We have other companions than those of fl: sit and blond,’’ said Unele Philip. The young man started and took a deep breath of relief. “Is that nil yon mean?” The shadow went from his face. “What do you mean? Bad thoughts?''' “More than that.” “W hat?” “Bad companions.’’ The shadow came back again. “You remember Milton’s ‘Myriads of sp ritual beings,' and St. Paul’s ‘Cloud of witnesses.’ ” “Oh !” “Not bad thoughts, but bad spirits I mean, Philip. It is the company of these that I fear you have been keeping; ami they have power to hurt you in the most vital places.” “What is your evidence ?” asked the nephew. “I saw a book on your table last even ing that few young men can read without injury to the imagination. I believe that an impure or profane image in the mind —a gross or sensual thought—will us eer 1 tainly allure evil spirits, as a decaying an. | ttnal draw around it a ft >ok of carrion birds. Beli. viug a I do, that our spirits are as much among spirits us our bodies are among the bodies of men in this outer I world, I cannot do less than warn you against every mental slate that can, by any possibility, attract the evil instead of j the good. You grasp my thought. You I understand w‘ul I mean by bad company. Outwardly, for all that I know, or fear, your life is blaimdess—your company un exceptional. But the discovery of that hook ou your table has alarmed me for j your safety. The worst kind of bail com pany wo can keep is made up of those subtle, impure, depraved and selfish spir 9 111 — ll ■ 11 I ■ 111 . itK that crowd the world of mind and per- 1 petually seek to draw mar and corrupt the souls of men. They are ever on the watch for a door of entrance into our hearts; and wo open the door tor thorn | when we have unchaste desires or bad | thoughts. You may know of their pros-! coco by this, that they h'dd the tntagina- j lion to impure images, or inspire ns with plans for the execution of evil deeds, or till! us with iincharitableness. Toe opposite of nil this marks the presence of good spirits. • We may associate with the evil or diet good ; may have heavenly or infernal com panions us wo will. We choose our own company in the inner or the outer world I See what is involved ! If wo are right as } i to the interior, all that is external is safe, j Nothing can really hurt us. But if the j j heart be as a nest of unclean birds; if : onr souls' enemies be in the citadel of 1 life, wo are in danger of losing every thing.” j Henry had dropped bis eyes to the floor, and partly turned uway his face to hide 1 the crimson sta'n that covered it. “That is the only evidence you have 1 that I keep bud company/’ he said, with a ' sobered air. ‘•No.” Pmlip turned quickly, with a flash of surprise. “I have noted other indications of late.’’ 1 “Wh*t are they ?” I “You are getting too much inclined, in j your judgment of others, to search tori evil instead of good ; to find blemish in- 1 I stead of beauty.” I “Is that so, Uncle Philip ?” ' “According to my observation. It I didn’t use to be so. There was a time ! when your charity was a broad mantle.— i Of lute it has become a torn shred. Why this change I One thing is certain, the j influences which move you cannot come ! from angelic spirits; for they sei-k out' j and develop the good in ram fur which i. 1 they have affinity. It is plain that yon I j have permitted yourself to be influenced ! j by other companions. Spirits of a baser | sort, who take pleasure in detraction.” “Your speech sounds harsh, Uncle : Philip,” answered the nephew. “ I can not bo altogether as you intimate,” “I speak strongly because I wish to be / beard. Your feet, it seems to me are leav- 1 iug the pleasant ways in which they have 1 so long walk’ d, and I wish to got them | back to tbe old true paths. I wid turn a ! leaf or two in your memory, and by what 1 wo find there shall your present state be 1 1 judged. It was only yesterday that! one spoke kindly of Mrs. Noble, in your | presence, and extol.ed her go id qualities i How <lid you respond, Henry ?” • “Not as I should have respjuded,” he! t answered, frankly. I, “You spoke of her faults and peculiar!-' ties; of the petty wrongs she had done;! of her uneharitnbleness towards others— and this to her injury; for the one who | had seen and admired her good qualities' was influenced by what yon said, and will, i I f ar, when she thinks of Mrs. Noble, re-1 member more of what you affirmed than of the good which she hid seen.” “it was wrong in me; very wrong!’’— 1 said Henry, in real self-condemnation.— J “Wtiat could have possessed me at the! lime ?” “It was not my Henry of old,” replied I Uncle Philip, with a regretful tenderness that touched the young man ; “but my i buy hurt and demoralized by bud compa ny.” “Dear Uncle ! don’t use the words bad company. They sound so harshly—in volve so much that does not exist. 1 can not beur them.” “It is always best and safivt to call things by their names, Henry. That you have been keeping evil company of lute is, aius ! too apparent. There lias been de- 1 tuorulization; i will not call the work done in your mind by any softer phrase.— A year ago, if Harvey Long had been i mentioned in your presence, you would not have curled your lip, nor uttered au expression of contempt for a harmless! young man. Harmless, did I say ? That does not give u just idea of bis character, j 1 1 should rather speak of him as useful, j honoiable, and faithful in his sphere of life. ; He is not brilliant, nor has he the cultiva-1 I lion seen in many others; but no man ; I can say aught against Lis integrity. A i [ kind son and brother, be has sustained his 1 | family since his father's death in comfort i | and respectability, For this lie should have all honor. This you should 101 lof him when Ins name is mentioued, and not seek to hurt him with contemptuous and depreciating language. Of yourself, kind by nature, you would ml have doae so mean a thing. Bad associates transfused their spirits to you for the lime. You opened tbe door fur them, and they crow ded in, possessing your thoughts and feel ings. Ah, my boy, if you hud been with angel-companions you would have felt and < spoken very differently of this young man. i They would have recognized bis good qualities, and touched your heart with their j i own kindness.” , , “I am angry with myself, Uncle Phil-1 | ip," said his nephew, shame spots marking . I Lis face. “How could 1 have so forgot-1 tea to he just and generous! Harvey! Long'never injured me; why should 1 have sought to injure him ? It must be j j as you say An evil spirit hath done j tllU " “Nothing so rapidly depraves the mor al sense as bad company, ’’ replied the uu-1 1 cle. “We see how'tbis works in the visi i ble world of men. How docs it work ? Not so much by physical as hy menial im [ pressious. Uis the wicked thought exciting (be bad [ 1 affection, or the ba 1 affection giving wings to tbe wicked thought, by which harm is j done. These corrupt, sensualize, distort, and mar the human soul. Prom these I I c one all the worst effects of bad company, - i And if this be so of onr mortal companions. \ ! who are seen and known, low can it be oth jerwiso with the invisible spirits of evil,! whom wc draw into association whenever! wo give rein to vile imaginations, or pur ! mil ■ nvy, ill nature, malice, or unkindnoss j 1 to rule our conduct.” “I will try to keep better company in 1 future,” said Henry. The associates to I which you have referred, bo they wrong; thoughts or bud spirits, have done me i | harm. Why should 1 seek to injure my ' neighbor by detraction ? This is not the 1 work of true men.” “No, Henry, it is the work of demons, j Atyd I pray you dome out from their I ; midst Shut against them all the doors | of your heart, and open its windows hea- | ; venward, that you may have angel-cora- i panions. These, if you will permit them, | ! will gather around and keep evil from your 1 thoughts. They will lead you into all j 1 good, and fill your heart with kindness in j ! place of envy ; with peace instead of that | | fretful disturbance which ever aooompa-i I nies uiieharitableaess and self indulgence j We cannot dwell alone, either as to our I 1 bodies or our spirits. The inner as well 1 as the outer world is peopled with intelli- j gent beings; with the hid and the good. [ The choice of companionship is mainly with ourselves. Lit us see to it that in I [ either case wo keep good and not bad com pany.” [ ■ What Shakspeare was Like. When Shakspoaro’s ootemporaries praise him for “his i/enlle muse," the question will arise—What part of a man will pos terity choose to retain ? And may it mil possibly be the very part which he him self least values, and would least sus pect ? That ho was a boon companion, and fond of good fellowship, there can be lit tle doubt. All cotemporary information about him suffiiioiitly proves this ; and, in fault of it, his own works say more to the purpose. Ills rich nature overflows on all si les. His experience is from without, as! well as from wuhiu Ho treats of man-| ners, and habits, and personal peculiar!-1 ties, no loss dexterously than of the deeper j human passions. He does not anatomize, | but create; and he never sits down in bis I study without opening the window, and ! letting the babble from the town ami j the sunshine from the held, stream through I it. It was well for the perfect develop i meet of bis genius, that his youth had I great experience of nature—his manhood, j of men. His first poem, the “Venus and j Adonis," breathes of the woodland and the sky. We wonder whether ho was, himself, fully aware nf the colossal nature of his own intelligence. Did he ever meet a man whom be held superior to himself ? We are puzzled ti kuow how far he was rightly appreciated, by his ootemporaries. That ho was appreciated, there can bo little iouht; but we question if it was to the full. We must uelicve that Spencer was the fashionable poet of the time ; but he ! | certainly alludes with high honor to \ i Shakspeare. And yet it is less the pro fundity and majesty of his stupendous ! genius, than its genial and graceful hu manity, that we find everywhere praised by those who wore nearest to him. Of uo writer, do wc see, through the in tellect, so much of tbe temperament, as of Shakspeare. If, on the one uand, hisoordial andi xuberautn iture made him the merriest of his tavern friends; on the other, those delicate and nervous susceptibilities which jusnudly accompany such a disposition, must have io-,eu exquisitely developed in his organization ; and wo venture the be : lief that ho was subject to fits of intensely j low spirits and gloom, at limes. Wc doubt if bis digestion was not sometimes tit war with his g >od living. How fre quent, throughout his plays, are the invo cations against evil dreams and restless eights? Where else is so strangely giv en us the whole “anatomy of melan choly ?’’ Who else has been so thorough ly to the heart of solitude and sorrow ! | How, too, does he not gloat over the loathsome interior of the tomb of all the Capuleis with Juliet; and with Clarence | on the monstrous abyss of ocean; ami | with the Ghost of the Royal Dane, upon the preternatural horrors of Purgato ry ! This is so great a star that he has warped us out of our orbit. In vain wc seek to peer into that life; as vainly as to search the sources of the sea. Yet who but lingers by the ocean, if only to pick up shells upon the shore? With how quaint a curiosity wo muse upon that strange bequest of his second best bed to Nan Hathaway, his wife 1 Was this the only eyniuism we have seen in his humor? Of his brother and sisters we know nothing but that they lived and died. Neither ot | his sou, nod if he loved him ; and if, at \ that boy’s death, a second Shakspeare was I was lost to u-. He is almost too great to speak of. Ha fame needs not to bo liegistcrcd upon his brazen tomb. We return to other men, toobs-rve what ] dwarfs they seem beside him Anon. Raf “I rise fur information,” said aj member ot a legislative body. “I am very : glu t you do," remarked a bystander, “for no mau wants it more.” Jfig- What is the difference between a person transfixed with amazement and a leopard’s tail? The one is rooted to the! spot, tha other spotted to tbe root. A Remarkable Do?. i A correspondent with tha Army of the | Potomac furnishes the following story : i Nearly every company, certainly every re giment, in the service has a pet of some kind or other. It matters not whether the object of their affection bo dug, eat, possum, eow or -horse, whatever it is, the brute is loved by all, and woo be to the J outsider who dares to insult or injure one i i °f these pots. More personal encounters | have been brought on between soldiers I about some pet animal than in any other ! way. Occasionally these pets become j great heroes, in their way, and then they I become general favorites with the whole army I have before me a photograph of one ot this kind, known as dog “Jack."— As his history is not devoid of interest, I give it here. “Jack” served a regular term with Niagara Fire Insurance Engine j Company, in Pittsburg, Pa., before the ' war broke oat, and when volunteers were j called to put down this rebellion, several members of Niagara Company entered tbe i service in the Oue hundred anil Second | Pennsylvania Volunteers, and Jack, no doubt prompted by patriotic impulses, 1 came iuto the field with some of his old I friends, and hu can to-duy pro luce as clean a record as any other dog. lie was at the siege of Yorktowa, battle of Williamsburg, | Fiir Oiks, battle of the Pickets, Malvern 1 Hill, (whore he was wounded,) first and second Fredericksburg, was captured at Salem Church, after which he was ex changed and returned to the regiment, and in the buttle of Cedar Creek, Oct. 19, he was again taken prisoner by tho enemy early in tho morning, while on duty at di vision headquarters, but was recaptured again when Sheridan made that famous advance at’4 P. M. “Jack’’ now runs on three legs, but in other respects he seems as agile as ever, and wears his honors as meekly as beoumeth a good dog. A Curious Fact. —One of the carious facts noticed by naturalists is, that the an imals and vegetables of the Old World sup plant those of the New. According to Dawson’s theory, this is to be attributed to the longer period during which the denizens of the Oid World have been engaged in the struggle for life, and tho consequent vigor acquired by them. European weeds have established theniselues abundantly in North America and Australia. The ra pid propagation of European animals is no less remarkable. The pigs which Capt. Cook left at Now Zealand have increased ! so largely that they monopolize vast tracts 1 of the country, and are killed at six pence per tail. Not only are they obnoxious by occupying the ground which tho sheep far mer needs for his flock, but they assidu- \ ously follow tho owes when lambing, aod devour the poor lambs as soon as they make their appearance. Another interest ing fact is the appearano of the Norwe gian rat. Tt ha- throughly extirpated the native rat, and is to be found everywhere growing to a very large, size. The Euro pean mouse follows closely, and, what is more surprising, where it makes its appear ance, it drives, to a great degree, the Nor wegian rat away. The European house Hy is another importation—repels tho blue ! bottle of New Z laiand, which seems to shun Us company. A Smoking Automaton Many men | smoke mechanically, but we never heard i of one before smoking by machinery other i than that furnished by nature. Tho Su- ! lent Gazette says : “Mr. Thomas B. Russell, an ingenious i machinist of this city, has exhibited to i some of his friends a curious piece of; mechanism, which is now at his residence, No. 354 Esses street. It consists of tilt figure of a man, seated in a common chair, and holding a cigar in his mouth. By winding up a weight, and thus setting in j motion au ingenious piece of machinery, i the cigar,when lighted, and also the mouth of the figure, are made, at regular inter-! vals, to emit a steady stream of smoke, in-1 tcr.-persed with puffs, that a professional smoker could not excel. By this process | a cigar will be smoked up us quickly and | naturally as a living man could do it.— The machinery by which the result is t accomplished, consists of a series of wheels . not unlike those by which a clock is | made to stride. Rubber tubes or pipes arc conveyed from the mouth of the figure to bellows, wbi'-h are slowly worked. Two valves, nicely adjusted, regulate tbe draw ing in and emission of the sauke. A Canine Postman —Mr. Robert Nash, churchwarden of Otford, England, has a fine black retriever, who regularly goes to the post office in the village, about twenty minutes past seven in the morn ing, and conveys the letters, newspapers, with unerring precision. Tbe saga cious animal walks straight to the office, and the postmaster or mistress places the letters, &c., on tho counter, when he seizes i them in his mouth, and goes to his mas- | Ur’s house, and will not deliver them to | any one besides Mr. Nash. If he cannot | find him at once, he searches the house and | premises till he succeeds in doing so.— | This interesting animal invariably goes i "from his master’s bouse at a walking pace, ! and returns at a bounding trot. ■— ■ - 86y*Mr. Reynolds, tbe dramatist, once met a free and easy actor, who told him | that he had passed three festive days, at I the seat of the Msiquis and Marchioness I nf , without an invitation. He had | gone there on the assumption that, as my lord aod lady were not on speaking terms, ! each would suppose that the other had 1 asked him, and so it turned out. Thunder in February. i Meeting an old friend from West New . bury the other day, ho reminded us of an affair tlut happened there some years since, over which we have enjoyed many u hearty laugh together. A gentleman residing in West New bury, having missed a good many sticks J from bis woodpile, his suspicions fell upon a well-to-do but miserly neighbor of his, whom ho thought capable of the act. He 1 resolved, accordingly, to resort to the old 1 expedient of placing a heavy log in a | tempting position, having first well oharg -led it with gunpowder, not only in the centre, but in several minor crevices.— Sure enough, the stick disappeared, and cue looking very much like it “might have been seen,” as James says, on tbe suspected gentleman's hearth on the en suing Sunday. Before it, in,a huge tin kitchen, a turkey was browning itself in to a elite ax. All of a sudden, a thunder ing explosion was heard, the tin kitchen was blown iuto a thousand atoms, the dis membered turkey flew through the atmos phere, and the old tom cat disappeared up the chimney. The old gentleman and his maiden sisterTvere horribly “skeerf,” but not materially injured, and tbe former was the first to win his voice. “Sister,” said he, “that ere was the loudest thundor‘l ever beard in Fcbrua j ry.” The next day, the plotter of the mis chief sent a tin peddler to the depredator’s ' house. “Want any tin ware ?” said the Yan kee. “No, no I” said the old gentleman, tes tily. “Why, yes you do,” rejoined the ped dler; “your memory must be dreadful short. Most all your neighbors say as I how you want a tin kitchen. A pair of tongs flew through the air, but the tin peddler dodged and made “tracks.” Looking in the window, ha exclaimed, “Better hov it now; it’s a fust-rate ar ticle—warrant it to stand most any climate, and all sorts of weather, from airthquakca down to thunder,” The Five Cradles. A man who had recently become a vo tary to Bacchus, returned homo one night in an intermediate state of bioziness.— That is to say, ho was comfortably drunk, ! but perfectly conscious of his unfortunate | situation. Knowing that his wife was I asleep, he decided to attempt gaining his bed without disturbing Iter, and by sleep ing off bis inebriation, conceal the fact j from her altogether. Ho reached the j door of his room without disturbing her, and after ruminating a few moments on the mutter, he thought if ho could reach he bedpost, and hold on to it while ho slipped off his apparel, the feat would be easily accomplished. Unfortunately for bis scheme, a cradle stood in a direct line with the bedpost, about the middle of tbe floor. Of course, when his shins came in cont ct with the aforesaid piece of furniture, ho pitched over it with perfect looseness ; and upon i gaining an erect position, ere an equilib rium was established, he went over it backwards, in an equally summary man ner. Again he struggled to his feet, and ; bent foremost over the bower of infant ; happiness. At length, with the fifth I fall, his patience became exhausted, and j the obstacle was yet t.) be overcome. In I desperation he cried out to his sleeping partner : “Wife! wife! how many cradles have you got in the house? I’ve fallen over | five, and here's another before me ! ’ HOT Not a story is now going the rounds of Paris. A small German baron | had occasion, as it seems, to see Baron j Rothschild, of Frankfurt. The great fi. J uaneicr was writing away for very life | when Baron X. was announced. He did | not even lift his eyes, but said, “Take a chair, sir.” Tbe baron, true to German | touchiness about titles, said ; “Sir, indued! j I think M. le Biron did not hear my name. lum a baron—the Baron X.”— ! “Ah ! —a thousand pardons” said the j banker, still writing. “You are a baron. Take two chairs, then, if you will be so kind, sad wait till I tiavc finished this letter.” S&~ A little girl about four years old, and u little boy about S'x, had been cau tioned in their search after hen’s eggs not to take the nest egg; but one morning tbe little girl reacbed the neat first, seized on an egg, and started for the house. Her disappointed brother followed, crying “Mother ! mother ! Susy, she’s been and got the egg the old hen measures by.’’ Veuv Probable.—“ Do you suppose you can do the landlord in the “Lady of j Lyons ?" said a manager to a seedy actor jin quest of engagement. “1 should think ; I might,” was the reply. “I have done | a great many landlords !” ■■ ■■ When the celebrat’ d Dunning, af- I terwards Lord Ashburton, was “stating law” to a jury in court, Lord Mansfield interrupted him by saying : “If that bo law, I’ll go homo and burn my books.”— “My lord,” replied Dunning, you bad bet | ter go homo and read them.’’ teC” - An old widower says when ynn pop the question do it with a kind of 1 laugh, as il you were joking. If she ao- I cepts you, very well; if she docs nut, you j can say you were only in fun.