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The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, February 03, 1865, Image 1

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THE iEGIS & INTELLIGENCER.
$1.50 PER ANNUM.
8188 & CO.
Baltimore Stove House,
No. 39 LIGHT STREET,
ISAXyraB&S.
The season is now til Iniml to huv yotir
STOVRSi FURNAt ES, RANGES, &c
Also look ami see \v hai repairs you want
done lo your stoves, and semi in your or
ders early, that we may execute them at
once. Further d lay may cause you in
convenience.
Don’t forget that we arc still selling that
matchless Fite place Stove the
“OEM,”
To heat Ist, 2d and 3d stories, at a re
duced price, and also the Re-improved !
“OLD DOMINION” Cook Stove, that
has so nobly, stood the lest over all com
petitors.
Send in vour orders early to
8188 & CO.,
Baltimore Stove Mouse,
39 Light street, Baltimore.
N. B. —Old Stoves and Iron taken in
exchange. o7
Frankiinville 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,
HARDWARE,
SAattß &££&£
NOTIONS,
CHINA AND GLASS WAKE,
In fact any and every variety of articles
necessary to a well assorted stock, all of
which will be sold at very lowest Cash <
prices. The Factory being in operation,
it 1 affords a fine market for
cimaT xi tains.
for which the highest prices will be paid.
The public are invited to call. fe26
~~ fii so oils.
THE undersigned have jiist received a
large and well selected stork 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 FALL and WIN
■aE) TER, to which they invite the atten
*P& lion 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 lake 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
SMALL* WA
Such as 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,
Washington street, two doors north of
the Railroad, ami next door to Nixon’s
Hotel, Havre-de-Giiace. sep2s
FARMERS, TAKE NOTICE!
W E are at all limes paying in cash
Port Deposito prices lor
GRAIN,
AT OUR WAREHOUSE IN
Bapidum, Harford County, Md.
Have also on hand a large and well se
lected slock of
Well seasoned and of good quality.
FINE BONE, GUANO,
PHOSPHATE,
PLASTER & SALT,
Constantly on hand.
Farmers will find it to their interest to
give us a cull.
ANDREW ABELS,
ju26 Agent for Davis & Pugh.
LIME !
LIME !
LIME!
THE subscribers, successors to Cook &
Hides, take ibis method of informing
the public that they are prepared to fur
nish them with a superior quality of UN
SLJCKED LIME, delivered at any of
the accessible landings on the tributaries
of the Chesapeake Bay,dming the naviga
ble season, and respe'ctfully solicit their
. patronage.
Ordeis should be given thirty days in
advance , and addressed lo the firm at
Havrf.-de-Grack. Md.
dec9-Iy JAMES COOK &. CO.
e. UERRVMAN. E. P. KRECH, D. D. 8.
MERRYMAW fit KEECH,
JVo. 60 Js'orth Calvirt Street ,
■ha BALTIMORE.
“LET US CLING TO THE CONSTITUTION AS THE MARINER CLINGS TO THE LAST PLANK WHEN THE NIGHT AND TEMPEST CLOSE ABOUND HlM.’’
IKE /ESiS AND INTELLIGENCER
IS PUBLISHED
EVERY FRIDAY MORNING,
BY
BATEMAN & BAKER,
AT
One Dollar and Fifty Cents Per Annum,
IN ADVANCE. OTHERWISE
1 TWO DOLLARS WILL BE CHARGED.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
One si)Urc, (eight lines or less,) three inser
tions, SI.OO. Each subsequent insertion 25 cts.
i One squ ire three months, $3.00; Six months,
j $5 00; Twelve mouths, SB.OO.
! Business cards of six lines or less, $5 a jear.
No subscription taken for less than a year.
Ijflttkid.
For the jKjit and Intelliysnecr.
HEART THOUGHTS.
Some where amid the stars to-nigbt
My spirit seeks for thine,
Seeks thro’ the trailing clouds of white,
And through the pale moon shine;
I Flies o’er the tangled skeins of mist,
O’er sea-weed floating wide,
O’er rocks the trench’rous waves have kissed,
I And o’er the shifting tide.
f At midnight, weary thought still flies
Where dark’ning waters roar,
And foam-capped wares in fury rise
To dash upon the shore
Some pallid corpses—a broken spar—
Sole messengers to prove
To watching hearts that wait afar
The end of so much love I
The end ! ah, yes I Stoop down and lay
• Your hand upon his brow;
’Twns fair and bright hut yesterday,
’Tis cold and icy now ;
Smooth out each clustering wave of hair,
And close the soft brown eye,
’ : Pra.i God lo keep yon from despair,
f j Until you, too, may die !
tj Abingdon, Jan. 20th, 1805.
! Uliscfllaiuous.
i The Legend of the Bleeding Cave at Pen
dine.
In one of the beautiful caverns which per
j lurate the cliffs at Pemjino, and form one
, 1 of the natural defences against the inroads
, | of the blue waters of Carmarthen Bay, the
.{visitor is somewhat startled by finding
I huge drops of wbat has all the appearance
fj of (dotted blood Looking upwards he
. sees the crimson fluid cosing out of the
.{stone roof, sometimes trickling down the
I side of the cave, sometimes dropping, and
. j bespattering the stones with an ugly stain.
, Of course there is a legend connected with
. J it, o sad enough one to, and not much to
I I the credit of the inhabitants in the days of
, oid. The story runs thus :
During the days of the Common wealth,
and just when the protector had begun to
f breathe after his fight fur the liberty of
his opuntry, a strange old man made his
appearance at Peudine, and established
himself in a vacant cottage upon the side
of the hill. This cottage be repaired, and
1 finally furnished on a scale of grandeur
1 utterly unknown to the primitive inhabi
tants. The garden began to bud and
’ blossom in a mauner unheard of iu these
pans, and, by the time autumn camo, had
become such a marvel of beauty, that the
“ country folks came from far and near,
f just to get a peep at the blooming mass of
flowers. More than a peep they seldom
had, as the inner garden was completely
bidden by the hedges of creepers; but al
though curiosity is a strong characteristic
in the Welsh character, it is restrained
, and modified by an innate courtesy and
deference; so the gazers were fain to
cunt nt themselves, and only talked ; that,
y u may be sure they did (as all Welsb
im n do}- with a will, tilling up tile gaps in
the story by drawing largely upou their
remarkably fertile imaginations
No one could say any harm of the old
man, simply because nobody really knew
him; and yet be was not liked. The
only servant who was admitted was an old
woman, who went to clean, scrub, aud
cook, uud being deaf and dumb, she could
give her neighbors no satisfaction on the
f score of curiosity.
Nothing uould bo quieter or mbre inof
fensive than the life ied by this ni}'steii
ous old gentleman, and be rarely showed
himself beyond the wall of bis garden,
until September came, when he erected a
’ I flag-staff upou wbat was called the “Bya
com” He pass d almost every hour of
daylight at the place, now hoisting one
colored flag, now another, all the while
watching the distant horizon (where lay
the Devon coast) with a telescope.
One night a party of fishermen noticed
about lying off Morvybachen Bay; hut'
L darkness coming on, nothing more was
r seen of it until next morning it was found
1 lying upon the sands, left, as it was said,
by tbo tide. it had come from
f was a mystery, aud served the people to
talk for many a day.
About a mouth went by, and then a
r l young and sad looking woman was seen
iu the cottage garden. After a time she
, extended her walks to tlie beach, and,
t morning or evening, sometimes at mid
night, she might be seen pacing slow
ly .along, never looking at or speak
ing to anyone, bat keeping her beautiful
face, so hopeless iu its misery, turned to
I the sea.
At first the little children, with that
j instinct of pity inherent iu their innuoeut
| beuits, would creep up to Iter; but, when
| they heard their mothers talking mysteri
(ously of the “lady,” hegau to look at 1
BEL AIR, MD. FRIDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 3, 18G5.
> her with shy, wondering eyes, aud keep {
far away ; grouping together for protec- j
tioo as she walked by ; yet in spite of.
this, the green bill below the cottage gar- '
den was the favorite play-ground, and con
tinued so, until one day they all rushed i
shrieking down wild and pale with affright, {
some of the elder ones positively affirming I
that they had ssen aud heard the devil (
’ himself in the cottage garden, and thatj
he was killing the “lady,” a fact strange- j
ly corroborated by the unearthly and ter- {
rible cries that were to be heard proceed
ing from the garden.
It was not difficult in those days to ■
• { rouse the superstitions of the Welsh, and
’ { the country round soon echoed with the
[ children's adventure ; the story being pro
portionately increased, according to the |
; narrator's feelings or passions. So the
? : villages sent their children to play far
away from the cottage, and nothing would
j have tempted the bravest man among
them to approach it after night-fall. At
| length an old hag fell ill, aud, in herdeli
{ rium, made sundry raving assertions, that
j sue had seen the “lady’’ dancing with the
| witches round the flagstaff ou the Beacon
i ißn, and changing into a black cat, scale j
{ the steepest cliffs, and moreover that the
{ old man had sold himself to the devil for
I the love of the “lady.’’
, | The consequences of these wild rav-
I k-;,., working as they did upon minds
! ua r *rrci with superstition and ignorance,
{ were likely to be serious enough; when
j matters were brought to a crisis : a young,
weak beaded girl, frightened by the wo
man’s words, went off in a fit, and therein
denounced the stranger as having bewitch
ed her, for selling him butter with a cross
upon it. ,
This news spread like wildfire, and the
credit of every illness, loss, or misfortune
that had occurred in the neighborhood
during the year, was laid at the stranger’s
door; the people gathered in crowds, ex
citing each other by their mutual super-;
, station. They rushed up the green hill
to the cottage, a mad, infuriated mob,
thirsting for vengeance,' aud demanding!
,t the old man to come out aud heal those
, be had stricken.
The door, however, resisted their efforts,
[ and they were surging wildly about seek
. j ing another entrance, when the owner
j himself appeared, aud, pointing to the
, { trampled flower beds, asked what they
. j meant by it. The answer was a yell of
, i derision and rage ; aud some ofthe mad-
I dost seized the old man, swearing they ‘
, would find out whether the devil was his 1
, master or no. Up the cliffs they scram-{
, bled, scarcely knowing what the end was 1
| lo be, or how the test was to be given,
but ere they had gone far a very spirit |
i of hell must have broken loose among
, them ; they pressed round upon the old
f man ; one wretch made a blow at him ;
with a stone and .knocked him down; t
, then, like wild beasts at the sight of!
i blood, they grew drunk with it, and {
f literally stoned and beat the hapless old
; man to atoms, bathing and strewing the
cliff with his blood and flesh.
, The deed was barely over, —a few were
1 looking pale and shuddering at tho red
stain upon their guilty hands—when a
terrible cry rang up the bill, aud imine- j
1 diately after the “lady” was among them, j
j “My father ? my .father ?” she cried.—
[ “What have you done with my poor old
. father ?”
No one answered, but many grew pale,
f and a shudder ran through tlie crowd as
the girl stooped down, and lifted a mass
, of grey hair from the blood-stained grass.
, “O my God !’’ she said, in a low, fierce
. tone, as she turned upon them. “You
1 call yourselves Christians, and this is a
I Christian laud.’’ Then springing upon a I
, projecting rock, she went on. “Listen, j
murderers, and hear what you have done: {
the blood that is crying out from the earth {
i tor vengeance is my father’s; he chose
r Iris king, rather than one he called a usur- j
per; he lost all save life in tho cause, so |
1 fled. My husband too was a soldier in '
the king’s army ; he was wounded and i
i tried to iscape, but they hunted him to!
| worse than H ath, they drove him mad ; [
1 and it was to give us a refuge, and to let
I him die in peace, my father came here.— j
. j When ite was ready for us he signalled {
across the Channel, and I brought my
poor mad husband over the waters in !
the boat you found upou the beach. The !
erics your children heard were those of j
, my husband ; but they would have trou-'
; bled you no more, he died to-day, and is I
now at the footstool of tbo great God, and {
with the poor old man you have murdered, |
. is crying for God’s judgments on you i
i And hear my curse: O Almighty God, {
curse these men : may they ask for rest {
and find toil and trouble; may they go |
| forth beggars and branded from the land {
they have disgraced, driven forth by the j
i spirits of their forefathers; dying may !
they find mercy neither from man nor from (
Heaven.’’ As tho last words were upon i
her lips, she threw hetself from tho rock, {
, down the sheer precipice into the foaming
water now raging in a storm, aud her last
curse actually seemed to rise from the
ocean itself.
The crowd sh ank away speechless and
I stricken, not a word was uttered as they
• crept hack to their homes, carrying with
{ them ihe terrible burthen of the curse.
• • By next day the ravens and carrion
[ crows Lad cleared away every trace of the j
I I deed of blond from the cliff above ! but i
j the eartu winch had drunk up the red {
I flood would not hide tho witness, ami in j
the cave beneath, gave aud still gives tos- j
{ timony to tire murder—the dead man’s i
blood still remaining us a memorial of his :
1 ■ I. D. Fenton, j
The Revolutions of Costume in the course
of a Century.
I Revolutions iu costume are periodical,
as are almost cevrytbing else iu this world.
; From tho beginning of this century, when
dresses were reduced to their narrowest
l proportions, they have gradually increased
|in size till they bare become so tincotne
j ly and uncomfortably distended that it is
neither safe nor possible to wear them.—
;Of course this applies more to feminine
i than to manly costume; but both are pro
i grossing in a parallel line on the racing
| ground of fashion. Singularly enough,
tho tendency towards distension regularly
I coinc dcs with the progress ofthe century.
I When a century, for instance, is in its
first years, civilized humanity seems to
j feel young, and iu no way eager to conceal
under a pile of garments the beautiful
forms granted to the “lords of creation.’’
As the century advances in years, fashion
assumes matronly ideas aud stately no
tions quite unknown to tho preceding gen
eration of beaux. And when the century
approaches towards its completion, then ali
the resources, all the craft of millinery,
tailoring aud perfumery are brought to
bear on the moans of dissimulating old
age and decrepitude. In tho beginning
of a century man is not ashamed of him
self. With the sunny confidence of youth,
he walks in the streets and appears at as
semblies dressed as nearly as possible as
the man of nature In the latter part of
tho century youth itself seems to delight
in assuming the appoaranoo of old age.—
Tire examination of any book of costumes
affords numberless illustrations of this in
scrutable law of revolutions in dress, from
the middle ages down to our own time.—
Writing and preaching against fashion
have, in all cases, not only been perfectly
useless, but made the wearer more deter
mined to persevere in it, however un
{ seemly, ridiculous, or even dangerous to
wear. Some days ago, three/jf the detni
; moade, dressed in the light garments worn
at the beginning of the present century,
appeared in tlie garden of the Tuilleries,
: and caused, as it may be imagined, an im
mense sensation. But fhey wore not al
lowed to enjoy long the benefit of being
stared at iu wonderment, by the promena
ders of the Parisian garden. Author! y,
under the form of a tbreo-ooruer-hatted
sergeant de villo, expelled them from the
fashionable garden. It appears that each
of them had adopted one of the colors of
{ the French tri-eolor. The question is to
know if the ladies were expelled for want
{ ol respect for the French flag, or for their
bold protestations against the prevailing
{ fashion introduced by tho Spanish lady
.who reigns at the Tuilleries. There is no
I fear that such au attempt will be repeated
in Hyde Park, for tho simple reason that
uo lady would dream of making suoh ex
; p.riments in public.
Men’s costume is naturally less ex
i aggeruted in form than the dress of the
j fair sox. It is also slower in its secular
development. Hats, for instance, al
though from time to time slightly modi
fied in type, keep during a century the
| same general form. Tho 18th century
{ was condemned to the ridiculous three cor
nered hat; the I9th is doomed to the still
{ uglier chimney pot. Geu. Foy, writing
| on military costume, considered it an itc
i mouse boon for the soldier the superseding
of the breeches by the trowsers. He held
that the suppression of the garter gave
much more easiness to the movements of the
leg. Rut the opinion of Foy is no longer
partaken by the French military authori
ties, since irresistibly drawn iu the circle
of revolving fashion they have come back
to breeches and leggins for French Infan
j try A similar attempt made by the vol
{ unteers in England is very likely to lead
j our sons, in a given time, back to the oos
{ turae of fathers. As it is, wo may fairly
] expect that the prevailing fashion of enor
mously distended dresses is to prevail dur
| ing the rest of the century in spite of all
j its perils and its ugliness. Our grand
{ mothers had the doors of their houses
j raised and enlarged to allow the introduc
tion of their head-dresses and their hoops,
i Until suoh alterations have been largely
{ practiced in eur constructions, carriages,
{theatres, bull rooms, &0., there is no
I chance of seeing the taste for the present
, bell-shaped dresses diminish or begin to
{ disappear.— Observer.
j A Buckeye Story. —The Columbus
(Ohio) Journal tells a queer story about
| a married couple in that place. The hus
band is a tyrant. One evening during a
{ recent severe storm, his wife was visiting
a neighbour; and when she applied for
admission ou her return, her husband pre
i tended not to know her. She threatened
to jump ipto the well if he did not open
j the door. Having no idea that she would
| do so, he obstinately refused to recognize
| her; so she look a log, plunged it into the
well, aud simultaneously with the splash
{ it made, she placed herself by the side of
the duot ; and as soon as her husband dart
| c l out she darted in, locked the door, and
declared that she did not know him ! She
froze him till he was penitent, aud then
| let him iu.
W&'X Western editor whose wife was ab
sent at the East, was deprived of his usual
doughnuts. He therefore advertised that
he would send his paper one year to the
i lady who sent him the best pack of home
made doughnuts, and would also mention
| her name in large type. He had two bar
| rels full furnished, aud the mean fellow,
| not content with this speculation, an
nounced that none of the samples came
up to his home standard, and advised the
j ladies to try again to a month.
Sighting a Trank.
Old Governor II has many laugha
ble stories told of him. I remember see
ing him once in a state of mind usually
called wrath. The circumstances were as
follows ;
The Governor, returning home from a
tour to the northern part of tho State, put
up for the night at a hotel in the flourish
ing and beautiful village of Princeton,
situated on the Fox river. The next t
morning, after arriving at home, he dis- 1
covered that he had left his trunk at the <
hotel, twenty miles away. He just then
saw one of his neighbors going to Prince- 1
ton, and in his most pompous stylo re
quested him to “call at the hotel and see
if there was not a little trunk there be
longing to him.”
“Yes, with pleasure,” replied the kind
and obliging neighbor.
When ready to return, ho found his
wagon heavily loaded; the trunk proved
to be a large and well-filled travelling
trunk, quite heavy, and it was quite
certain, on the principle of antecedent
probabilities, that he would never get a
cent for his trouble; so, seeing it was
safe at the hotel, be drove homo. As he
approached the residence of tho Governor
the latter went out aud opened the gate,
expecting the trunk would be taken in
and left at the door. The farmer told
him he was not coming in.
“But, says the Governor, “did you not
get my trunk
“No, you didn’t ask me to get it.’’
“Did not ?” What would you call it
I askud you I” thundered tho exasperated
Governor.
“Why, you asked me to look and'see if
it was there. I did so, and you will find
it |afe there any day by just driving over
to Princeton. Good day, Governor, good
■ day.”
Suffice it to say, the Governor did not
ask that neighbor to do any more errands
for him.”
Dullness of Great Men.
Descartes, tho famous mathematician
and philosopher, and Baffin, the natural
ist, were singularly deficient in powers of
conversation. Marmontel, tho novelist,
was so dull iu society that his friends
said of him, after an interview, “I must
go and road his tales, to recompense my- !
self for the weariness of hearing him.”— i
As to Corneille, the great dramatist of
France, he was completely lost in society,. 1
so absent and embarrassed that he wrote
of himself a witty couplet, importing that
he was never intelligible but through the
mouth of another. Wit on paper seems
to bo something widely different from the
play of words in conversation, which,
while it sparkles, dies; for Charles 11.,
the wittiest monarch that ever sat on the
English throne, was so charmed with the
humor of “Hudibras,’’ that he caused
himself to be introduced, in tho charac
ter of a private gentleman, to Butler, its
author. The witty king found the au
thor a very dull companion, and was of
opinion, with many others, that so stupid
a fellow could never have written so clever
a book. Rousseau was remarkably trite
in conversation—not a word of fancy or
eloquence warmed him.
Tub Dangerous Pet. —An English
gentleman had a tame young lion, which
seemed to have become a lamb in gentle
ness, and was a favorite pet in moments
of leisure.
One day, falling asleep, his hand hung
over the side of his couch. The lion came
to his side and commenced licking his
hand. Soon the file-like surface of the
animal’s tongue wore off the cuticle, and
brought blood to the surface. The sleep
er was disturbed, aud moved his hand,
when a savage growl startled him from
his dreaming balf-couaciouness, to realize
the terrible fact that the pet was a lion
after all. With great self-possession, with
the other hand he carefully drew from the
pillow a revolver, and shot his pet through
the head. It was no trivial sacrifice to
his feelings, but a moment’s delay might
have cost him his life.
A striking illustration of the folly and 1
madness of men in their moral experience. 1
A vice which men call harmless, iu the
face of conscience, reason and history, is
caressed until it gains the mastery. The
pet sin at length eats its way so deeply
into the soul that its wages of pain begin
to be felt. The victim starts up, resolved (
to escape; but how seldom has he the
will power left—the moral courage lo slay
the disguised destroyer of his immortality. *
*aT The latest “oil story’’ is that of an 1
old lady in West Virginia, who took the ‘
advice of a visitor and poured some potro- 1
leum along the streams wjtiuh watered her I
farm. The report spread abroad of sur
face indications on the land, and a brigade
of oil hunters came, who bought the land *
at a fabulous price, the owners agreeing to
give the old lady one-eighth of the oil. — 1
Tlie purchasers set up their- derrick and '
put down an auger, ami in a short time ‘
struck a well which yields oue hundred
barrels of oil per day.
r , , i
A Graceful Compliment.—Wash
ington visiting a lady iu his neighbor
hood, on leaving the house a little girl (
was directed to open the door. He turned
to the child and said, “I am sorry, my
little girl, to give you trouble.” “I wish,
sir,” she said, “it was to let you in.” j
_* - ,
t&'A bankrupt was condoled with the
other day for his embarrassment. “Oh,
I’m not embarrassed at all; it’s my crcd- I
itors that are embarrassed.” I
YOL. IX.—NO. 5.
On the Square.
“Do you mke calls on New Year's V*
“Never," said my friend Tom. “I used
to, but I’m cured.”
“How so?’’ said I, anxious to learn his
experience.
“Why, you see," said Tom, feelingly,
“as I was making calls, some years back, I
fell in love with a beautiful girl—that she
was. Well, sir, I courted her like a trump,
and I thought I had her sure, when she
eloped with a tailor—yes, sir, that lovely
creature did.”
“She showed bad taste," said I, compas
sionately.
“More than that,” remarked Tom, ner
vously. “Downright inhumanity is the
word. I could stand being jilted for ft
down-town broker, s captain with whis
kers, or anything showy, that I could—
but to be cut out, like a suit of clothes, by
the ninth part of a man—that was brutali
ty. But I swore vengeance—that I did.'*
“Vengeance?" I nervously inquired.
“Yes, sir," said Tom, with earnestness,
“and I took it. I patronized the robber
of my happiness, and ordered a full suit of
clothes, regardless of expense. The tailor
laid himself out on the job. I tell you,
they were stunning, you may believe it.”
“But your vengeance?’’ said I, prompt
ing him.
“I struck that tailor in his Inoat vital
point —that I did; I never paid that bill—
no, sir, 1 didn’t. But those infernal
clothes were the cause of all my future
misfortunes, that they were.”
“How so?" said I, with a smllo of com
passion.
“Wearing them, I captivated my pres
ent wife. She told me so, and I haven’t
had u happy day since. But lam bound
to be square with that wretched tailor, in
the long run. I’ve left him a legacy, on
condition that be marries my widow.’’
Precocious Piety.—A Michigan law
yer tells the following story: “Several
years ago 1 was practicing law in one of
the many beautiful towns in Wisconsin.
Ouo very warm day, while sealed in my
office at work, 1 was ihterrupted by the
entrance of a boy, the son of one of my
clients, who bad walked into town six
miles, in a blazing sun, for the purpose of
procuring a Bible. He had been told, ho
said, that there was a place where they
gave them away to people who had no
money ; ho said be had no money, and
said he was very anxioms to get one of the
books, and asked me to go with him to tbs
place they were kept. Anxious to en
courage him in his early piety, I left the
brief on which I was and went with him
over to tho stand of a Presbyterian dea
con who had tho much coveted books in
charge. I introduced him to the deacon,
telling him the circumstances. He prais
ed the boy very highly; was delighted to
see a young man so early seeking after tho
truth, etc.; and presented him with tho
best bound Bible in his collection. Bubby
put it in his pocket, and was starting off,
when the deacon said :
“Now, my son, that you possess what
you desired, 1 suppose that you feel hap
py?”
“Well, I do, old boss; for between you
and 1,1 know where I can trade it for a
plaguey good fiddle 1”
The Great Tragedian.—The Cali
foruia editors are a queer set. A sample
of their treatment of McKean Buehanan
proves it. When announced to visit a
certain up-eountry town, one of ’em spoko
of him in this wise :
“The Legitimate Drama. —We are hap
py to state that the talented American
tragedian, McKean Buchanan, supported
by a talented stock company, will shortly
pay our town a visit, etc."
Ou the return trip, Mr. Buchanan hav
ing failed to “come down" as munificent
ly as was expected, or having exhibited
evident partialii,, i■: a rival newspaper,
we have :
“Buckean Mucbanan, with his ono
horse show, was here a few nights ago, we
understand. As usual the attendance was
slim. Buckean is about played out with
our intelligent and discriminating com
munity."
The Statue of Hercules.—Cavalier*
Riglietti, the fortunate owner of the gigan
tic statue of Hercules, lately discovered at
Rome, has begged the Pope’s acceptance
of it, and his holiness has been graciously
pleased to accept. The magnificence of
the gift may be imagined, when only a few
days before a Roman nobleman offered
two hundred thousand scudi (over forty
thousand pounds) for this splendid work
of art, ?ud M. Schentz made even u
higher bid for it on behalf of the French
government.
t6r“Tho world repeats itself” is aa old
sajing. Wheu one visits the modern shod
dyites and petrolcumocraey, one is remin
ded of the remark made by Plato, who
was so struck with the luxury of tho citi
zens of Agrigentum, both in stylo of. their
houses and their tables, remarked : “They
build as if they were never to die, and eat.
as if they had not an hour to live.’’
U ayWe returned homo on Thursday,
gays an editor, after a trip of six hundred
miles, in about three and a-balfduys, bay
ing, in that time, passed over four states,
nine rail-roads, four oxen and a barouche.
Any person who has done more in that
time, will please forward his address, and
the small balance he owes us.
inform us that in Ceylon
the marriage ceremony is performed by
tying tbe couple together by (he thumb*.

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