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_ 't&uMmfr Aa# LtÜÜffJ !'•» ft|i!ftt> ,ï ti-Jö ♦ Mfl r '4 A >i IwX s" ft.., -it e.ifir - »'"" NO. 10. MIDDLETOWN, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, SATURDAY MORNING, MARCH 7, 1868. VOL. I. m I £fteri fîodrç. LEAFLETS OF MEMORY. k| tbaughu have goat beck to a leveller eoent, To a »pot more tnchantliiRly f>Ur, ^ than Italy's mountain* and valleys of green, Ur India's balm-scented to tbe plac« «her« my Infantile footsteps first played, Through tho Uly<teck«d vale by tho rill— to the plac«-, where in childhood, I gam hoi led and played, In Use grot e, near the foot of tbe hill. There, a streamlet as pure as its waters Roils brightly and quietly on, Till it mingles Us waves with the wares at the Tife, And is lost In the beautiful fawu. Ry the side of that brook Is the place of my Wrth— But the cottage has mouldered away! And that mother has passed, like a star from the earth, To a home that will never decay. rife, In fancy, I wander again to that spot— The roiee of that mother I hear! I stand In the porch of that rine-treliieed cot, Tbe place to my memory so dear I But Fancy betrays! aud reality seems A burdensome weight to my soul!— with illusory gleams, While its Stygian wares o' It beacons roll! A WINTER MOONLIGHT» The moon above the cnslern wood Shone at its full ; the hill-rungc «flood Transfigured in the silver flood, Its bright snows flashing cold and kem, Dead white, save where some shurp ravine Took shadow, or the soifthre green Of hrnilocks turned to pitchy hlurk Against the whiteness at their bark. For such a world and such a night Most fitting that unwarming light. Whirl» only seemed where'er it fell To make the coldness visible. jlopulnr Sates. A HEART'OF GOLD. I thought I loved him. Why ? Why fceekuie it was so grand to have a lover. I was just sixteen years old, pretty, anil a hack-wood's girl. John May was one of father's " hands"-—a tall, gay fellow that I was fond of. All tho other girls liked him, even my sister Lydia, who was even prettier thau I; and still he wasn't " well off," and had no good prospeets. He had hia mother aud little, brotlicr to take cure of, and was only a "lumber hand, my mother told mo when they first talked over my proposal from him—father, mother and my sisters. I hadn't anything to say only that I loved him, and by-and-by they half withdrew their objectiuus, aud lot nie do as 1 would. He did low me. I can ryjnomher now a thousand little sacrifices lie made, that showed as pluiu as could be that he loved me with a true, unselfish affcctiou. If 1 was ouly proud of his straight limbs, strong hands, curly, flaxen huir, and frank laugh, I knew how all the girls envied me when he began to show,, as plain as day, that he was iu love with me. When lie went up the mountain with roe cue day, and rested on, the ledge, he asked me—Hushing up to his handsome eyes—to be his wifo, because lie loved mu, 1 thought I should have an engagement ringtoBhow. But aftorwc were engaged, he never seemed to think of it. The girls said that they did not believe that 1 was engaged to him, and I thought John ought to consider that I had a right to a ring. 1 said so. "John," said I, pouting, "you ought to give me a ring." He looked surprised. " Why, Katie," said he, "a ring don't amount i a" Yes that we are engaged." - "But don't we know it, darling?" he added, kissing me fondly. " Yes, but other people don't. I can't tell everybody, and they ought to know it." " We'U show them a marriage certificate by-and-by." "I don't want to be married at pres to anything." I it does," 1 a answered ; "it means rent. " Very well then, don't troublo yotir self about other people until you arc. See bore, Katie, here is a little geld heart; it waa made out of the first dollar 1 ever earned, when father died and I had mother and Jimmy to take care of, I got it made for a keepsake. Take it and woar it to remember me by." It was a pretty little bright thing, but it was not tho engagement riug that I wanted. I kept pouting, but John treated me a» if I were an unreasonable child, and when I wouldn't laugh and chat with him, grew grave, kissed me gently and went .away, leaving me by rnyfMf blithe M moon light on the porch. I was so angry that I cried—1 had no idea that he would re lus« me ; he had never before refused me He hod always appeared glad anything. He hod always appeared glad <when I expressed a wish that He might [gratify it. I could not bear that he should >aeuy me so ooolly, when he »aw how mv heart waa sat on the thing ; speaking brief ly, and disregarding my resentment as though I were u child. I had uot sat alone but a minute before I heard his step again. He came close to my side, and put his arms arontul me. " Katie," said he, and I could see how gentle and contest he looked iu the moon light, "if I could get you a ring easily, I would do so, but I cannot. I cannot do io vfiiihoùt a^omfotyg fife actual needs of 'those f Jove'. You know, ^«ar, that you 'are gditig to mbrfy apoor'mujp, and you ! m— näfr n wÜlÿ'tlw'word» prnden'çe, fru gality and economy mean. 1 had'to learn them long before I was Ah old as yon arc. 'Your dtWrc for the ring is'only a whim, Katie, if lsnT a necessity. 1 am living Wry strictly now, that I may décrive my dear mother of nothing in her old age, if Tn I make you my wife next year. You know what my means are, Katie, won't you be good aud help me Y He looked so firm and good, yet rowful and wistful, that I cannot so sor under stand now why I was so stubborn and wicked. I looked him defiantly in the eyes. " How mean!" said I. He straightened himself quickly, and stepped buck from me. Then he Bald, in au altered voice : "Do you think so, Katie?" "Yes," I answered ; "it's as mean as dirt to talk economy to me about such a thing. It was bad enough for me to have to ask for it ; any other man I know would not have obliged inc to do it. It is mean, and it alters my feeliug you. Take back this heart, I di it." a toward« o not want My hand trembled, and so did his, and the heart dropped to'tlie grouud. He picked it up. "You don't want my heart, Katie?" I was silent. " Katie, speak to me." But I would not speak. "Good nigh*/' eaid he, and turned away. I dropped my head down and sat there still m, for an hour after he bad gone down the hill road. At last the clock in tbe kitchen struck nine. I was damp with dew, and arOHC to go into the house. Just then I saw some one riding up the hill on horseback. Pret ty soon 1 saw who it was,—Bradford Ter ry, who owned tbe tract of land on the other side of tbe hill, and more woods than any other man in the country. Tie drew up lus horse at tho gate. " Good evening. Miss Katie ; are you waiting for your lover?" I don't know what made me say it, but I answered : "No; I haven't any lover." Bradford Terry was a little, shrewd, business . man, with a small body and a more insignificant soul. I knew it very well, yet l waited for him to speak again, sitting there on his fine, iron-gray horse. "Haven't? well I'm glad to hear it. I was afraid you were going to throw yourself away on some ! poverty stricken follow—Jehu May, for instance," My check burned at his words, but he was looking at me shrewdly, and 1 tossed my bead. " No, indeed !" "Too pretty for that. Alt, these hand some girls know their value. Miss Ka tie, would you marry an old fellow like me if be wan rich, aud would make a lady of you ?" laughed cnqucttishly. " You are not very old, Mr. Torry." " Only fifty-—square fifty—an<l you arc sixteen. Is that joe much difference ?" I was silent. lie bud dismounted, and standing betj'nU me was trying to take my band. " Pretty one," said he, "will you be my wifo? You shall dress m silks and dia monds." Diamonds !" "Yes; diamonds on your white neck, and un your little bauds, and arouud your wrists. They will glitter like your eyes. Will you have them." " Yes," fired with the dazzling vision of myself which arose before me. " I'll mar ry you if you'll give mo nil I want." "1 will. You shall have all tbe money you want, and spend it as you please.— Yeu may buy what you like.", " I will marry you." * He looked at mu iu tbe moonlight. " Now, you won't change your mind to morrow ?" " No." "I shall hold you to your promise. See here, will you wear this ?" He slipped a riug from his finger. 1 caught the glitter of a splendid diamond. "Yes." He placed the ring upon my finger. "Now you are mine. Beauty, good night 1" 1 bunt my ltoad in silence. He mount ed to the saddle, and looking steadily buck at me, rode slowly away. I went to my chamber and retired. It was strange, alter tell this excitement, that I could sleep ; hut I fell into a heavy slum ber, aud did not awake uutil morning. It wag lute, and tbe suu was sbiping intu the room. A little cup, quaintly formed ol biroh bark, which John May bad idly fashioned une eveiimg, as wc sal together, stood on the stapd ut the bedside. I pul eut my hand, smiling, to tuke it, when the diamond glittered iu the light. Then all the work of the previous night flaslieu upou me. Fur a lung hoar I lay still, thinking, as I had never thought before. At lust 1 decided to abide by my decision. I would keep the diamond- I would be the wife of Bradford Terry, and have mere diamonds, and luxury without stiut. After this, I did not see John May for moutliB. The news of my engagement to Bradford Torry, the rich landlord, spread like wildfire. The girls, my old school mates, looked at me with a sort of awe ; my mot lor was in » state of constant agi tation and surprise ut the honor to bu con ferred upou tbe family, and 1 laughed carelessly ut all, and thought of tbe dia monds. I don't think 1 was myself all the win tar. My mother wondered why I wus so wild ami restless. " Why don't you sit down, Katie?" she would say. You must learn to be digni fied und composed. I'd run away fropi tlicpi all, « the hills, to come home poltod storms. face of the lightning, over the crags, and I if and walk by the I liked them. I'd rush, in the «landing on the dizzy height», sing wildly, with tho thunder for chorus. I would scream reckles-ly until the woods would throb with echoes. Thon I would com'C homo and act rationally for a day or an evening. Spring came. The river opened, and the logs, which had been bedded stream all winter, while it was frozen, came floating dowu with the blocks of ice. Tn some oases they came over the falls, a giant network of ponderous logs, tliundcr pg, foaming, straining, and wallowing in heir entanglement, now and then blocking up the river's course, and »ailing for perd and enterprise among the timber hands, that they might be disengaged and sent smoothly on their way to the sawing dis distriet, two miles below. When news first came that the ice had broken up, the men started from their winter quarters aad prepared for labor.— An impulsp to go up the river and see them at work, seized me. I went secret ly, for my father would not have given his consent. I Went at daylight, one glistening morn ing, to a large ledge of rocks which hid in the bushes, overlooked the river without being seen. Bruising the sweet wild bay berry and fern, I crouched down there and waited for the men to come. I could hear their voices, aud I knew that the logs were coming. The river seemed to hurry as it flowed, as if in fear of an impending disaster.— Already I could hear the thundering of the breaking içe and plunging logs as they went over the falls. Listening, watching, Waiting, I forgot myself and fell. I hud just heard the ap proaching shouts of the men, and a nearer familiar vojee as it palled an order. Then I lost my senses as I reeled headlong into the river. T might have died there and been hap y. but love was stronger than death.— Through the half-unconscious distress of drowning I heard the voice I knew better than that of the mother who bore me. I flung out my arms, struggling with the cold current, was clasped and lifted bock, living, to my father's arms, I knew where I was; then caino a warning shout: ''Quiek! quick! John, the lugs in tbe ! arc ,,, coming I saw it all ; it was too late ; and the logs swept down upon the struggling form and pale face. He went under them, and I pever saw bis face again. They took him from the river two miles below, but no one was allowed to see him—not even his mother. The heart I would uot have was lost to me fofover. " Did I marry Bradford Terry ?" Yes. Why not? ; (Original Article«. The following beautiful "Snow Sketch es" aru from the pen uf a fair contributor, whom wo are pleased to welcome to our columns : For the MlddUtovn Tranicript. Slow SKETCHES. KITMUBU QNB. I took u walk this evening to try what Nature's cool, fresh breath might do to ward quieting tbe ' ' fevered pulse of care." Huge snow waves, heaped up high on either side uf the read, reminded me ol die Israelites pdssiug through Egypt's dread sea. The scene was very, very beau tiful—the unsullied snow tossed intu foamy billows by the rough winter wiuds, scemcu so real that 1 stopped, almost expecting tu see them move, biomo of these waves rose suddenly with edges sharp and clearly defined ; other» were gently curved aud si exquisitely poised it would seem a breath might destroy the balance. Here and there one rose higher than the rest, and, bending over, fell iu down-dropping feath ery flakcH. And farther, and farther on, as fur as the eye could reauh, hero a oon vex surface, there a concave one, beauti fully undulating and seeming to have a restless motion, yet oh, so still, and culm, and pure, as if a voice had been heard o'oe a troubled sea, saying "Peace, bo still "• The red rays of tbe setting sun reflected on the snow seemed warm and glowing. I watched the red light die away and a cold blue take its place; this, too. paled, and tho silver radiance of the full moon flooded tbe earth with it's splendour.— With a sigh, I turned away, feeling pain fully that human vision wus ail toe weal; to gaze upon Snell manifestatious of the glory of God. .vcaaxa nro. O the bewildering beauty of these win ter morns ! How the eye is dazzled with the gleaming glory of a world powdered with diaraend-dust ! Every object, even the most homely, is transformed into a thing of radiant beauty. The unsullied purity of the snow-ooverod silent earth— tho foliage blooming with beauty that a breath may dissolve. Every shrub is sheathed in silver sheen—each tiny spray fringed with fairy frost-flowers all its own —dainty lace-like leaves of the most ex quisitely delicate forms. The air is filled falling frost-flakes glittering, in tine like tiny sparks of light— the purple rim of the distant horizon—the beaming blue above. What pen can pic ture it 1 What tongue oan tell of it 1 llmvan, how beautiful thou must be, If enrlh is naught compared with thee I with the the sunsh If you arc angry with him who reproves your sin, you secretly confess your anger to he unjust. He that is angry with the just reprover, kindles the fire ,of the just avenger, Julies gfpartmcnt. HftPPV WOMEN. Iinpatient women, ns you wait fn cheerful homes to-night, to hoar The son nil of sli ps that, sooa or late, Shall come as music to your ear; Forget yourselves a little while, And think in pity of the pain Of women who will never smile To licnru coming step again. With babes that in their cradle sleep, Or oliug to you iu perfect trust ; Think of the mothers left to weep, Their babies lying in the dust. And when the step you wait for comes, And all your world is full qf light, O, woman, safe In happy bodies, 1 'ray for all lonesome souls to-night! TU. F..)ilonnbl* World. A New York correspondent writes from that city as follows, about tho spring fash ions aud tho latest novelties in the fash ionable world : The spring fashions will, we predict, he cxceediugly attractive. Suits and cos tumes will be en rogue fur the" street, and they are as pretty as they can possibly be. Two or three narrow flounces or more, probably frilled, will finish the bottom of the short skirts, and over these the long sac or pelisse will be tied with a wide sash. A blue or green silk skirt with a black silk over-dress open on the sides, and handsomely trimmed with lace or gimp, is very effective. Vie need hardly suggest that the opportunities for triomiing up aud old skirls for these costumes are using up only limited by the number one happen« to have ou hand. Double skirts with very short sacs or fancy jackets will also be worn, and later suits composed of a dress with pcleriue cape or Marie Antoinette fiuhu, the latter being particularly adapted for thin dresses. A new spring jacket for a suit is cut very short aud with capes, like the old-fashoncd bretelles w hich cro$g the shoulders and terminatu in a point, or namented with a tassel which hang« peu dant at the buck of the sleeve. A charming dross of white tulle, puffed lengthwise aud dotted with small bows of white satin ribbon, was relieved from its bride-like appearance by an over-dress of black luce, made gored aud with the bo dice all in one piece, ala I^rinccss. These luce dresses are among tho novelties of the season. They are shaped very gracefully to the form, aud finished with scollopy upou the upper and lower edges, and add immense style to a low J , rim:cstc evening dress ; which by the way, may be made in the simplest manner, if a lace over-dress is to be worn with it. Dresses of crape and tulle, trimmed with leaves and garlands, are altogether the most stylish for cvcuiug wear, but they are less woru than formerly, because considered too expensive aud too f. ail. Net is, in many cases, economically used instead of tulle, but the effect is much less soft aud delicate, and not near so becoming. Black tulle bouillon ne make a most elegaut evening dress, divided by leaves or a simple thick cord of black satin. To produce tho gored shape, the bouillonnes must be made lengthwise upon a stiff foundation, and widened out toward the bottom of the skirt. There are al ways rich silk dresses and embroidered dresses, but they arc all alike; and present no features of,special discussion. The new chemisettes, it must be re marked, are nil in the Marie Antionctte style. The dress .is cut very low, and the chemisette is either composed of folds of tulle or of guipure laces made very open, like a hnndkerchief dice, in the style which belongs to the reign of the unfortunate queen. The re semblance is all the more perfect to the costumes of the period when tho fasliiou able lockets were suspended from a black velvet ribbon round the neck. tucked into the bod There is a color much in vogue just now, called Ctiudon. It is a sort of (lull sea green—something like green jade. Celadon is the name of a personage in De Urfe's romance of L'Astree, distinguished for the extravagance of his love ; and from him any languishing lover—soft even to stupidity—cume to be called a Celadon. When the tint of a dull sea-green was brought under the notice of the ladies of France, they said that " there was their Celadon again." It was a tint character istic of him, and it should be called Cela don, The Du Barry is tho latest style in bon nets. It has a rouud crown and an oval brim, which faces up from tjjo front. It is small ns yet, but strongly suggests the wide, flaring brims of the last century, from which wc hope, however, mercifully to be delivered. The style is also in ac cordance with that of sixty years ago, the satin or velvet being laid smooth upon the foundation, and tho trimming consisting of a short plume or bow of satin ribbon, with jewelled centre, perked straight up On the side. The fonction for evening wear have taken the Marie Stuart figure, and are newly ornamented with a rose or rosette, in loops or leaves, placed direetly over tho front. There were five Saturdays in February, This will happen again in 1890. At the next leap year, 1872, there will be five Thursdays in February; in 1870,- five Tuesdays; in 1888, five Sundays; and so ou, a retrogression of two days in the week for every loap year for seven returns, untiljButurday returns again in 1890, when there will be five Saturdays. When we ure ready to do a thing, let us Le.t us never wait for time or tide ; they nover wait for us, do it. (Dur <D!io. The Troubadours. The Troubadours of the south of France, tbu earliest poets of western and southern Europe, flourished between LI00 and 1200. They were sought after by the great and the affluent—were the admiratiou and the delight uf all the gay ladies aud cavaliers at the different courts of France, Spain and Italy, and they animated pud enliven ed all festivals by their gayoty and wit. The Troubadours were not only poets, but they also recited tales after the manner of the Arabians, and no doubt, did much to introduce a taste for romantic fiction among their countrymen« Many of them were engaged in tho crusades, and this also ten ded to nourish a chivalrous and euthuastic The Among the most distinguished of the Troubadours, was Richard Cœur do Lion, king of England, renowned for uis exploits in the Holy Laud. Arnaud de MorVeii and Arnaud Daniel are also often mention ed, and it is said that their upotry .posses ses uncommon merit. The history of their lives contain no uncommon incidents. Among all these facts, however, there je i no one among them whose history present* such a variety of interesting aud romantic adventures :|s that of Pierre Vidal. He was born in Prove.noe about Ute year 1 1GÖ or 1110, and at an early age evinced an uncommon talent for writing poetry. He composed a greut number of love songs which were mostly addressed to a lady uf Marsoilles to whom lie made a groat many professions of attachment. In the cele brated crusade in which Philip Augustus of France and Richard king of Englaud were engaged, he went to the Holy Laud, and entered into the servioc of Richard. Here liis conduct was so extravagant, as to afford great entertuinmeut to his friends, who played all sorts of pranks with him. In short, ho was a perfect madman or knight errant, for lie supposed himself to be the most valiant of knights, aud that he was beloved by all the ladies. At the island of Cyprus his friends contrived a most ridiculous farce of which he was the dupe. They introduced a Greek lady to him, whom they pretended was descended from the emperors of Constantinople. Vidal married her, and ashe fancied that he should one day mount the throne uf the Kastorn Empire, he assumed the title of Emperor, and caused a spleuded throne toi ecarried before him when he passed through tho streets, much to the amusement of all who beheld him. When he returned to F rance, he still displayed the same mixture of ex travagance and folly, and he fell in love with a lady of Caroasonne, named Loqvo do Pemiaticr, and in order to do her honor, and to ingratiate himself with her, he as sumed tlie name of Loup. He clothed himself in the skin of a wolf, and then caused the shepherds to go in p him. They chased him over tl: tains till he was ready to expire, and then spirit. It may, poihaps not bo amiss to inquire whence arose those facts, and how did they acquire this taste for poetry and romance? As early as between IUU0 and 11UU the Arabian kingdom of Spain had imbibed the taste for learning which was so extremely diffused among the Saracens or Arabians. A great number of schools and academics were founded in Spain, to which the youth from the soutli of Franco resorted in great numbers. It is ul.io said, tliut at one time the Arabians of Spain extended their kingdom into France, and that the two races of people were, intimately blended together. In the year 1035, Toledo was conquered by Alphonso,, king of Castile, and he invited a great number of lords and knights of France to engage, in. this war. Toledo was taken, and M>y this means ope of the finest »ltd. jnost celebra ted of the schools of Spain was alike open to both Arabians and Christians. Christians of southern Europe resorted in great numbers to, this school and also to. others, and thus was diffused a taste for learniug and for poetry, and thus may we account for the origin of the Troubadours. The Troubadours were mostly of tho south of France—were often knights and uublc inen—and wo even hear that sovereign princes were votaries of the "gay science." The court of the king of Provence, the most refined of western Europe, was the chief resort of the.« bards, and llieir poetic festivals were celebrated among other na tious. But after the commencement ol the 13th century, we are surprised that we hear no more of the lovers and cultivators of the "gay scieuce." They have passed a way as a shadow, and oven their language has sunk into utter oblivion. The fiâmes of religious persecution raged with des tructive fury in th8 south of Fruuco. In the memorable crusade against tho Albig eusos, the inhabitnuts of I'rovence were mostly destroyed, aud tho Troubadours shared the fate of their countrymen. A whole rime was utterly destroyed, and even their language was no longer remem bered. . The poetry of tho Troubadours is alto gether original, and unlike that of either the Greeks or Romans. It was exceed ingly simple, aud love was the principal subject—they sometimes personified luvo, and then ho was represented^« a cavalier mounted upon a fine, horse. They also personified the attributes of loyalty, mer cy, Ac. By those who have studied the poetry of tho Troubadours, with particu lar interest, we are informed that it pos sesses a brilliancy and a charm peculiar to itself, and that while engaged ui the per usal wo may fancy ourselves transported to a new fairy land, peopled with a race of beings as whimsical and fantastical as wc can well imagina. ursuit of ie moun he was carried to his mistress, who seems to have taken little or no notice of him. lie died in 1229. His poetry is much extolled ; it is said to abound with noble and elevated senti ments ; his style was good, and he incul cates many excellent maxims. Arabs arc very ceremonious. If persons of distinction meet, they embrace, kiss each other's cheeks, and then kiss their own hands. Women and children kiss tile beards of their husbands and fathers, Their greetings pro marked by a strong religious character, such as God grant thee his favours." " U God will, thy faui ily enjoy good health." "Peace be with you,*' etc. Bohemians kiss the garments of the per sons whom they wish to honor. Burmese apply their noses and cheeks closely to a person's face, and then ex claim :—'■* Give mo a smell attributable to their great use of perfumes. Ceylonese meeting superiors, prostrate themselves, repeating the name and digui ty of the individual. . Chinese are most particular in their per sonal civilities, çven calculating the cum ber of their reverences. Of equals they inquire^-" Have you eaten your rice?" —''Is your stomach in order'/"—and, *• Thanks to your abundant felicity." Egyptians kiss the back of a superior's hand, and as an extra civility, the palm also. Their favored country is strikingly portrayed by asking:—" How goes the perspiration —- l ' Is it well with thee'/" and, " God preserve thee." English.--An old salutation in polite society was—" Suvcyou, sir;" an evident abbreviation of "God save you, sir!" French .—Comment vom apporte* rouit which literally signifies " HoW do you car ry yoursclfY"* Germ ail«. In some parts of tHeir conn try they invariably kiss the bands of•11 the ladies of their acquaintance whom they meet. Greeks.—The salutation among the an cients was" Rejoice!" Among the moderns, " What doest thou?" Hollunders, with their proverbial love of good living, salute their friends bv ask ing, " Have you bad a good dinner?" Italians, cm meeting, kiss the hands of ladies to whom they are related, with the strange inquiry, " How does she stand?" Japanese remove their sandals when they meet a superior, exclaiming, "Hurt me not!" Laplanders, when they meet on the ice, press their noses firmly together. Why ? Mahomedans.—'' Peace be with you;" to which the re to which is ad blessings of God." Moors of Morocco, ride at full speed to ward a stranger, suddenly stop, and then lire a pistol over his head. New Guinea people place on their heads the leaves of trees, as emblems of peace and friendship. l'elew Islanders seize the foot of the person they desire to salute, and rub their faces with it. Persians salute by inclining the neck over each others necks ; and then inclining cheek to cheek, with the extravagant greet ing, " Is thy exalted high condition good?" and, " May thy shadow never be less." Poles bow to the grouud with extreme deference to friends they meet, with tin significant inquiry—"Art thou gay ?" Romans in ancient times, exclaimed, "Be healthy or, "Be strong," when it was customary to take up children by the ears and kiss then*. The Pope makes no reverence to nvrtal. e. espt the Emperor of Austria, by wto Itled. Russian' Indio bunds, but their friends, "Hew do you I Statues* pros; i n error a, *tjy» as« he has boon riling anything offeusivo ; if so, he is kicked out; if not, he is picked up. Spanish grandecB wear their hats in the presence of their sovereigu, to show that they are not so much subject to him as to the rest of the nation. When the royal carriage passes, it is the rule to throw open the elouk to show that tho person is uu armed, ed National Salutation*. is—' * On you be peace:" " And the mercy and S' ; dnly tbeir be kissed by by inquiring, •Be well." selves before su .« examines whether Tim Swedes are by no means demonstrative in their courtesies ; on meeting, thoy sim ply inquire, "How can you?" Turks cross their hands, place them on their breasts and how, exclaiming, " Be under the care of God"—" Forget me not in thy prayers"—" Thy visits are as rare as fine day»"—an ancient greeting, as jt i» by no means applicable to their prAient country. Disadvantage» or Easy TaAvaLLiNs— In the year 1U72, when throughout Great Britain only six stage coache» were con stantly goiug, a pamphlet was writton, by one John Cresset, of tho Charter House, for their suppression, and among-the many grave reasons given against^«hoir contin uance is the following ; . • ' ' These coaches make gentlemen come bo London upon every small occasion, which otherwise they would not do but upon urgent necessity ; nay, the conve nience ol the passage make» their wives come up, who rather thau come suoh long journeys on horse back, would stay at home. Here, when they have come to town, they must presently be made in the mode, get flue clothes, go to the plays aud treats, and by these means gef such a habit of idleness and love of pleasure, that they are uneasy ever after," What would the old fogy say, now, in these days of rail roads and telegraphs ? THHil and luutorç. A SlMurper Outwitted. A oortain constable a sort time sine« espied a tin peddler punning his trade, aud like a pickerel after a minnow he rush ed at him and inquired : " Have you a license to sell?" " No," coolly replied the itinerant ven der of pots and pans, " I haven't." " Well, sir, I'll attend to your case," says the Dogberry. " All right," says the peddler. The eager official rushes off to the near est justice and obtains a warrant, and armed with the awful document Btarts af ter the offending itinerant. After a long chase- he was found, aud hustled before the justice, who read to him the warrant, and asked him whether he was guilty or not guilty. " Not guilty," says the unabashed ped dler. The justice And constable opened wide their eyes to such contumacy. " Not guilty," quoth the former, " don't you peddle goods around here?" > , "Yes," replied the alleged culprit. "Well, have you a license?" asked Rhadamnnthus in " sareastical" tones. " Oh, yes," said the travelling agent. "Why," said the*justicc—quite another over his couutenan this gentleman incc that expression coming —" didn't you tell you had no'license?' 4 ' No. sir.'' " Y« you did," shouted tipstaff. "No I didn't, quietly roplioa the ped " t say you did," vociferated the edn staWc. dler. ' I «wear I didn't," penis ted the ped dler. " Well, wliat did vou tell me , then ?" " You asked if I Lad a license to sell, and 1 told you I hadn't; and I haven't « Keens« to sell,*' oontinuea the peddler, in an injured tone, " for I want to keep it U> peddle with." , -nub Freddy, a fair-headed youngster of four summers, the other day, after being for some time lost in thought, broke out thus : "Pa, can God do anything?".' " Yes, dear." "Can He make a two-year old colt ta two minutes?" "Why," said the astonished parent, "He would not wish to do that, Freddy ?" " But if He did wish to, could n»?" insisted Freddy. " Yes, certainly, if ne wished to. "What! in two minutes?" ' " Yes, in two minutes." " Well, then, he wouldn't be tw« yea»« old, would he?" The old gentleman collapsed. el tl 8« oi*» Dr. Abernathy rarely met his match, but on one occasion he fairly owned Bml he had. n« was 'sent for by an innkeeper who had a quarrel with his wife, who had scarred his faoc with her nails, so that tba poor man was bleeding and much disfig ured. Abcrnothy thought this an oppor tunity not to be lost for admouishing tl»» offender, and said, " Madam, are you not ashamed of yourself to treat your husband thus—the husband, who is the head of all —your head, madam, in fact!"—" Welt, doctor," fiercely returned the virago, " %*• may I not scratch iny own head ?" ■art Two old gentlemen were complimenting pach other upon their habits of tempee " Did you ever, neighbor," said one, " see me with more thau I could eai ry ?" "No indeed," was the reply ; "but l have seen you when I thought you had better go twice for it." mice. « The following puzzle will form four; linen of very sweet poetry, if read properly : I'll To true girl like my fore kiss do me we wtll the of be Tou my C' love, be dove, tbe rt The beet way to take tbe census of the children of a neighborhood is to engage an organ-grinder with a monkey. To take the census of the adults, start a dog-fight. Sikos says, the prettiest sewing machine ho ever »aw, was about seventeen years of age. with short sleeves, low necked drus», and gaiter boots on. A. daucing master in New Y«rk has in troduced the "Kiss Cotillion," in which the gentlemen always^ kiss the ladies as they swing corners. * _ e—. -- - "I " Bridge*.' has Patrick cleaned off the snow from tho pavement ?" "Yes, maria." Did he do it with alacrity? " No, x ~wid a shovel," A clergyman said he addressed his con gregation of ladies and gentlemen as breth ren, because the " brethren" embrace the ladies. . The love that has naught but bcan(y*lo keep it in good condition is short-lived, and subjectlo sliiverittg fits. 1 Why should a man with a termagant wife be considered a smart fellow ? W causc he's a shrewd individual. Human nature, though easy enough te spell , is extremely difficult to read. How happy a man may spend his life, if he is governed by a wife.