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_ - - _L-L_L - g H} SB « - V: TT' ' ï iii ■ pl i Ä ir'*stS£2i"i . T? .... . f& -x K ■ -■ ff *'* ♦ •- * ' $ . %a. A%// v &**ix,*$ » ; LETOWN, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 21, 1868. MIDD VOL. I. NO. 47. NEW GOODS!! FOR THE FALL TRADE AT Charles T. Stratton's, ODESSA, DEL. J UST received a splendid line of Fail Goods, and for sale at STRATTON'S STORE, iu ODESSA. Look at the Prices. Appleton "A" Muslin, the best unbleached in the market, full yard wide at 17 cents. Waltham unhleaphcd double fold full l.V yards wide at 17J cts. at * Ç. T. STRATTON'S. Augusta Muslin, very heavy, 1 yard wide, 16 cents, at C. T. STRATTON S. I and 1 yard wide Muslin at 8, 10, li, -12, 13 and 14 cents per yard, at C. T. STRATTON'S Large lot of good Prints, selling off at 10 aud C. T. STRATTON'S. 11 cts per yard, at Pacific Delaines and Armuvc, sailing at 20 and 0, .STRATTON'S. 22 cents per yard at Poplins, Alpacas all colors, selling for 31 cts. per yard at C. T. STRATTON'S. Heavy Kersey, nmde in Delaware, for 85 cents p*r jard, at Ç. STRATTON'S. Menions Sattinett, very good for 60 cts at C. T. STRATTON'S. Good Jeans and Farmers Cas. for boys' wear at 20. 25, and 30 cents per yaiv). at C. T. STRATTON'S. Hoop Skirts, fashionable and good, 25, 30 and 35 springs, for 88 ceutsat p. T. STRATTON'S. Floor Oil Cloth, full yard wide, at fhe market for 75 cents per vard. at 0. T. STRATTON'S. good GHOCELilKS. White Sugar, Bro. " Id cts. l^r lh. 14 124 " Coffee, Grain Coffee, Best do Fort Rico Mollisses, N 28 80 " " gab Prime Mess Pork, 18 cents per lb. The best Sugar cured Hams, 25 cents, for sale at C. T. STRATTON'S. W) Sckoiai. Attf.ntion is given to READY MADE CLOTIIIIsG. We have a large assortment ; Full suit as six Dollars, all sizes. BOOTS AND SHOES, Very Cheap. Guaranteed to tie sold as low a* by the city retailers. HATS AND CAPS At Jobbers priées, as we get the manufacturer. Call and examine aud be con vinced. from the CHARLES T. STftATTON. OllBSSA, Dm,. October 3—ly. NEW GOODS AT REDUC ED P RICES. NATJDAIN & BROTHER, are opening a fresh stock of FALL ANP WINTER GOODS, £eipg piifehnaeA since the full in many kimls of the tame. Being tiouglit for Cush, aud from first hands, principally—lienee we avoid tlie second profit of the jobher and intend giving the advan tage to our liberal friends. . Out stock consists of Merinoes, blk col'd Al pacas, Wool Poplin*, Wool de. Laines. Good assortment of Prints, Cotton and Weoi flannels, fr O, 21 Bleach'd and Bro. .Muslin, Balmoral ßkirts, Shawls and Uwda, Ladies Vests, Gents fCnit Shirts apd Drawer», White and Col'd Blauk HATS AND CAPS, DRUGGETS, CARPET AND OIL CLOTHS, Painted Window Shades, GLOVES, HOSIERIES, AND FANCY GOODS. In fact, anything kept in a first clap- country •tore. We call particular attention to our fine stock of Over-Coatings, Cloths & Cassimeres, which we make a Special!)}-, qdffog from tfo Mnnuhuturfr.v Ladies' :s, BAcj Children's Shovs, Gents sewed and ipsa* 4 , double upper and sole, Calf Boots, Men'B (jeavy, winter Bifots h Shoes, that wc have made of the best material ; and guarantee satisfaction. gACKEUE' .SIjAi), ASD HEHSIXO Mi Always on Hand. Liberal fliscount for cash, and show Goods with pleasure. N & BRO. Middletown. Oct. 10—ly Middletown furniture Warerooms. JOSEFIlll. ENOS XT KEFS constantly on h#.nd fV FURNITURE suitable fe fisting of ap assortment of tlie market, con COTTAGE SÏIITS, BEDSTEADS, CHAIRS, WASHSTANDS, <u»A »tnlug Boofa Furniture, fcc. AISO . FURNISHING UNDERTAKER. styles; Metallic Cor» outer. Jau. 4~tf COFFINS ofallkituls »i.J jeets ; Patent Burial Cases to .... ~,—..-it- ogles, Siding, and Rails, -Cedar Shingles, Siding and Rails, quality, for sal«, near Taylor's quinimink Hundred, New Castle Äfiply to ROBERT JOHNSON. ; 'fofo rmjm |odig. pr riage of wife with other fir to toe shall to rirg nii the short, time end, was do idea in GDI IV« AND G03IÜVG. The pleasant summer mouths, alas ! have fled, And mellow Autumn, with her fruit«, is here, Wearing the licctic flush upon her cheeks Which mniks the glow decadence of the year; And through the leaves the sad winds softly moan For the sweet summer which, alas ! has flown. No more I 'hear the cheery Dowu in the meadow where the grass grew tall, No more I hear their sytlie-blades blithely ring ; A tender pirple mist bangs over all, Vcllllng the valley aud each Wooded steep Where nods the golden reed as if in sleep. at ,-ers sing wile, The restless bluebird through the wood flits by, She utters scarce a note through all the day ; The blackbird's liquid voice has turned to dry— Alas 1 alas ! they soon will pass away I And these bri A it tint.- which mark the closing year Ere many du. s will wither and groiv sers-' Here gazing i n them, whero I sit apart, These lean s of gold, these berries of rieh red, seem to see the ghost of War go by, Leaving til : traces of his bleedtug tread In these lone paths which skirt the solemn wood Where oft I ' under wrupt in silent mood. the shadojyay yigta of the Fust blood-stained robes, and roll away ' the buttle s deafening blast ; e coining of the dawn of day, within her vineyard, smiling Peace, utyaud of large increase. I And through Vanish his The echoes of And like tl Walks Peace Parent of pit Too well I krow these Autumn days must pass, Like the d< iul Slimmer which lias gone before ; These painter glories ail must fade, alas ! Like hopes which perish and are known no more And down three walks the a hilling leaf will go On chilly wit ds that through December blow. Already now rip yonder mountain height bounds Winter's clairon wailing through the trees, Calling his hots from out the fropeii North, Where toppling icebergs Bail the polar seus; Aud streaming far across the lonely night •Shine the Aurpru's quivering beams of light. Cl But though the Winter comes with sleet and snow, And wtiiliirg winds that howl with voices drear, Upon the hea rth the ruddy flames shall glow, And seated there with friends whom we hold dear, Unmindful of the bitter, searching blast \Ye will not mourn the seasons that are past. ' CL Lot wife she'll pn ran run popular i^alfH. MY r AUGHTER-IN-LAW. - "I pever, never will forgive him," said old Mr. Re ningtop, solemnly depositing bis great gold spectacles ip their green leather case. "Nor I, either," sobbed Mrs. Reming ton, heedless of the unwonted disorder of her cap.-strings. ."To marry that bold, dashing city girl without so much as wait ing for our permission." "But yo i know, my dear," suggested the old gentleman, "we shouldn't have given it to him if ho had waited half a century." "Certain y wo should not," said Mrs. Remington emphatically. "To think of our only crild treating us so cavalierly, Abel, the inly one we have got iu the world " "Ho has made his hod, and must lie on it," said tie old man sternly. "I will never receb'e his gay city bride here, and so I shall write to him immediately. We are seared' fine enough for a Fifth Avc nua daughter-in-law." As he spoke, the old man picked up a crumpled letter that he had thrnwu on the floor in the first paroxysms of his anger, and smoothed out its folds with a mechan ical touch. "Why only think of it, Abel," Mrs. Rem'ngton, "Maliala Buckley serv ed for six weeks in this— fois girl's cou sin's family, and she says Evlyn Sayre could smoke a little paper cigar just like a man, and used to go skating with her dress tucked up to the top of her boots, and she drove a barouche, with the groom sitting behind—and—" "Bless ny soul !" interrupted tbe old gentleman, bis breath nearly taken away by the catalogue of enormities. "Bless my soul, you donH say so. And our Charles is named to such an amazon as this." —i gold of an laty, "' seem 0 Cl: ton. so thing •nil me by lier of P 01 said tbm til you dc Aid ms ar:t w je aid two by for w di her ued ing, Wr. li C net M tli So tbe couple sat in tbe roomy porch of the capacious old farm house, with the Michigan tose« tossing little billetdoux in to their lajs in scented showers, and foe delicious odors of foe fresh-mown hay com ing up fron tbe meadow flnts by the river, as miserable an old couple as you want to Meanwbile Mrs. Charles Remington, a bride of th:ee weeks standing, was'making herself supremely happy at Niagara. She sat on a fidlen log, among the delicious shades and seclusions of Qoat Island, that bright Jure day, with the lights and shad ows chasing each other across her lovely face and timing her long chestnut curls to coils of gold. Dressed all in white, sho was fastening a wreath of flowers into the ribbon of her coqnetlsb little hat and sing ing some cld ballad softly to herself. Evlyn I emington was very handsome— neither blende nor brunette, she contrived to unite th? charms of both in her rose leaf eomp exion. bright hair and misty brown eyei, and the smiles that dimpled her fresh scarlet lips, were messengers straight from tbe heart. Presently sbe was joined by her bus band—a fill, handsome young fellow, in a white linen suit and graceful bat." "Two li tters, Evlyn," he said lightly, "and bad news in both." "Bad ii 'ws? Oh, Charles!" and the ro- w ses faded suddenly away from the bride's cheek. "Well, not so very bnd, and yet not so _« - » " rnia!" of er lap a stiffly w ^ of blue papere pr ission of their disapproval of the mar riage he had contracted. apd an assertion of their deterrpj nation never to receive his wife as a daughter. Evlyn looked into her husband's face with lier bright eyes fujl of tears. "Oh, Charles, I am sorry." He laughed and quoted to her the old Scripture phrase: "A man shall leave his her and mother and cleave unto his "And now don't you grapt to sec the other letter, Evlyn ?" It was a summons from the mercantile fir n with which ChnrleB Remington was connected, an earnest entreaty that he wculd visit Central America in their in ternets, immediately, '■'Coo}, isn't it, to request a bridegroom to walk off in that sort of a way ? for it is toe rough a voyage to ask you to share it, dearest. I leave it for you to decide— shall I go or stay ?" "Go by all means. Should I ask you to linger by my side when duty calls you away, a poor wife I should be." He kissed her flushed cheek with admi rirg tenderness. "And where aha!! I leave you, mybon nii bride?" "Oh, I will make a brief visit home in the meantime. It cuts our wedding tour short, but then you know we have a life time to finish opr honey-moon in '' 3o the brief Niagara sojourn came to an end, and, Mrs.Remington for the season was a widowed bride. "He will soon be back," she said to hei'sclf, "andin the meanwhile, oh, I intfst do so much." "Yes," said old 5(rs. Remington com pbeently, f?I think that was a splendid idea of yours, Abel, sending for Lot aunoey's orphan to adopt. It'll teach urles and his stuck up wife that we're in earnest about what wc wrote, and Ma at wile, Cl CL Ch»ni)P c y ffQff't Ijave qo city airs nor graces. I'm dreadfully anxious to see her. Lot was a likely looking fellow, and my cousin twice removed, aiul folks said hjs wife was a regular beauty, Ï guess likely she'll come by the stage to-nigfit." "I guess |ike}y there she is now," said Abei, is 1)0, fitting by the open window, caught foe first glimpse of a slender figure coming up the path, and carrying a well pn :ked carpet bag and Mrs. Remington ran forward to kiss and wefoome foe new comer. run Mariai) Chauncey was exceedingly pret ty—Mrs. Kcmington soon discovered that —i bright little ryirjsotne creature with gold crown hair that would oiirj iu spite of the restraining net, loving hazel eyes an 1 tremulous red lips, "Oh Abel!" quoth the soft hearted old laty, at tbe end of two days, "why didn't "' ailes wait until he haj seep Marian auncey? Is she not sweet—don't it seem like a gleam of sunshine iti the obi house when she is tripping around ?" "She is very pretty," said Mr. Reming 0 Cl: ton. "And then," pursued the old lady, she's so handy. She knows just where every thing is k,ept, apd foff to do everything, •nil she does uiy caps exquisitely, and you shruld have seen how skillfully she drove me to meeting yesterday. Oh, Abel, if ividence had only seen fit to send us a daughter-in-law liko dear little Marian auncey." Mrs. Remington's speech was cut short by tlie entrance of the subject of it, with lier apron full of eggs and her hands full of wild flowers. P 01 "Mrs. Remington, she began, and tbm checking herself with abruptness— "Oh, 1 cannot call you by that long, for ai name; may I call you mother?" "Of course yon may my darling, til : enthusiastic old lady, you wore my real daughter." Marian laid down her flowers and de posited her store of pearly white eggs in a busket on tlio table, and then came up to rs. Remington, kneeling down and nest ng her bright head ip foe old lady's check apron." "Mother," she murmured softly, "yon dc not know how sweet the word sounds Aid will you always love me and cherish ms and let me be a real daughter to you?" "I should be a hard-hearted old corinor ar:t if I didp't, pet," said foe old lady, her spectacles dimmed with tears. In short Marian Chauncey became the light of foe farm house ; the bright little guardian genuis of its ceiled rooms and w de airy halls. She read the paper to farmer Remington ; she compounded cake, je ly and sylabubs, to the astonishment aid delight of the old lady,—she kept tbe two qld china vases op foe mantle brim ming over with a rain of roses; sbe knew by instinct just when to darken the room for the old man's afternoon nap on tbe w de chintz sofo, and was better than ten di ctors when Mrs. Remington had one of her bad nervous headaches. "I really don't see how wc ever contin ued to live without Marian," said the old gentleman. ''But she shall never leave us," said Mrs. Remington, decidedly. "Marian ! little bright eyes, Fve got news," called the old gentleman one morn ing, through the hall ; "leave those honey stcklesfor someone else to tie up, and ocme in here. Charles is coming home." "To stay sir ?" "No not to stay ; of course his fine city ifo demands his permanent devotion." Wr. Remington could not help speaking with a sneer, "but he will spend tbe day here, on his way to Now York. I should li ie you to see Charles—and I should like C hurles to see you. Ifon't blush—if you're net better looking lhan his Fifth Avenue wife, she must be a paragon aqirmg wumeg said "I only wish M tli w that's all J've got to say." "When will be lie here ?" "In about an hour, I should judge from his letter, he always writes an awful scrawl —m's and u's just half alike and half the time forgets to cross his t's ; hpt I suppose that's the fashion now-a-days." Marian Chauncey crept away to, her room to brush out the red golden curls and adjust the blue ribbon, and wondered shy ly to herself, what "Charlie" would say when he saw tho new element that had contrived so to interweave itself into the old home of his boyhood. "But I don't think he will be angry !" said Marian in a half whisper as she pinn ed a white rose in her breast, and prepar ed to descend in. obedience to Mrs. Rem ington's c»ll of: "Marian, Marian, come down and Bee my boy." Charles Remington stood iu the middle of the floor with up arm around his radi ant little mother, while the old gentleman from his big easy chair delightfully watch ed over the tableau, as Marian slowly ad vanced. ■» f I T I I I I I I "Charles," said Mrs. Remington beam ing all over, "this is our n w daughter who— I But Charles had s caught the slight wi arms, while the goldeu hair floated over her shoulder. "Evlyn! My wife?" Mr. Remington Btared at his wife, Mrs. Remington stared at her husband. "He's mad," whispered the old man, "Charles," he added aloud, "you are mis taken, this is Marian Chauncey, our adop ted daughter." "No sir, jt js pot," faltered the young lady in question, "I am Evlyn, your sou's wife. I have stolen into your hearts on false pretences—but I did so long for your love. And when you sent for Marian, who is one of my dearest school friends, l persuaded her to remain at. home, apd al low me to personate l)ey just a te\y weeks. Father, mother, you will not turn me oui of your affections now !" "And you knew nothing of this!" de manded old Mr, Remington, of his son. "Not a word; it is Evlyn's own idea." And Evlyn, half laughing, half crying, stole iuto her mother-in-law's extended arms. :ilt don't seem possible that, she is the Fifth avenue girl !" said the old gentleman "come here aud give me a kiss, Ma - Evlyn, I moan." "No, she is our real daughter after all!" said proud Mrs. Remington. Evlyn had esnquerod their prejudices with the en chanted wund of love. forjyprd and ure in his ipruqg tc iljing fig I I TUc Mnlrien's Peril. Lieutenant Shoch, of the Dutch East In dia army, was on a march with a small de tachment of troops aud coolies, on the southern coast of Borpco. He had en camped, on one occasion, during the noon day heat, on the banks of one of the small tributaries of the Bangarinassin. The lieu tenant had with him his domestic establish ment, which inelpded his daughter—a playful aud interesting little girl of the ago of thirteen. One day, while wandering in thejunglc, beyond tho prescribed limits of tiic camp, and hpviug, from tho oppressive heat, loosened her garments aud thrown them off almost to nudity, the beauty of her persou excited the notice of an orang-outang, who sprang upon her and carried her off. Her piercing screams rang through the forest to the ears of her dozing protectors, and roused every man fo camp. The swift, bare-footed coolies were foremost ip pur suit; and now the cry rings ip foe agonized father's ears that his daughter is devoured by a bianstang—again, that an oraug-ou r tang lias carried her off. He rushes, halt frenzied, w)th foe )fo 0 |e company, to the thidjet w fonce the soreatua proceeded—and there among the topmost limbs of an en ormous buyan, the father beheld his daugh ter, naked, bleeding, and struggling in the grasp of a powerful orang-outang, which held her tightly, yet easily with one arm, while he sprung lightly from limb to limb, as if wholly unencupibered. Jp yas in vain to think of shooting the monster, so agile was he. The Dypk eoojies knowing the habits of the orang-outang, aud kpow ing that he will always plunge into the pearest stream when bard pressed, began a system pf operations to drive him into the water. They set pp a great shout, throwing missiles of all kinds, and agita ting foe underbrush, Tyhile some proceed ed to ascend foe tree. By the redoubled exertions of the whole company, the mon ster was driven toward the water, yet ptill holding tightly to the poor girl. At last the monster and his victim seen on an outstretching limb overhanging the stream ; the coolies, who are among the expertest swimmers in the wqrld, immedi ately lined the banks ; the soldiers contin ued the outcries aud throwing of missiles. He clasped his prfoe niorc tightjy, took 0 survey of tho water, and of his upward gazing enemies, and then leaped into the flood below. He had hardly touched the water ere fifty resolute swimmers iu pursuit. As ho rises, a dozen arms are strefehed out towards him ; he is grasped : pfoers lay hold upon the insensi ble girl ; orang-outang uses both arras in self defence ; and, after luscerating the bodies of some of tbe coolies with his pow erful, neryops clajys, finally succeeded in divip'g beyond foe reach of hiH pursuers and in escaping down the stream, while bleeding, insensible Lcduh was restored to the arms of her father and nurse, in whose hands she was ultimately restored to peiousposs, health and strength once pure. W( >< liman con I to PftARApR, Written/oT the MtJdldown Transcript BY THE ODESSA BARD. I'm a strange little creature for good or for evil, Not a spirit of spook, hobgoblin or devil, Or angel or seraphim, cherub or saint, A demon to awe or magician to feint, Yet nrr influence over these gentry is doublp, To bring them to grief or eviscerate trouble. Somehow, I've controlled the beginning and ending f föacli era and age of the world's wide-extending, I was first in the garden with old father, Adam, And frequently pressed either side of his Madame, Then twice did I prove that their babes, Cain apd Abpl, Would the one prove a saint and the other a devil, And the angel that flamed at the gate of their Eden, T first started out on his mission from Heaven, It was I, who, with Noah, first entered the Ark, And led his queer army about in the dark ; I was kppjyn tp piost of the worthies of old, The patriarchs, prophets, and warriors hold, And I helped make the bargain when Joseph was sold : So down through all Jewry and David's long line To the Christian day, my pedigrpe I am every whit app parcel, a jjpÿ. a Christian, every whit am Î, too. With such discipline do I govern the sexes, From tho "Star in the East" to the "Lone Star of Texas" change them as caprice pleases or vexes ; Let a wonirtu but know she's a specimen Nero, My influence can make her a conquering hero. One half of the genius supposed to be Grant's, I found in those virtues—mpn, money, advance ! For the plan of his famous Richmond campaign, To successful result, it was I made it plain. I love as I hate, I am loved ns I'm hated, And, stranger than all, I was never out-mated ; I soar to the skies, what's the earth, but for me? I burden the air and govern the sea, I bring out all colors, and bosk in the sun, Thcq reyp) pfl flight when my day's work is done. Evepy iflpmept I'm changing my place and my name, Yet half of my time forever the same, I'm the whole of each answering echo—"Why ?" 'Cause I doublo you in wit, when I try, For instance, to prove it—instantly, I Presto prestiges t are p)j '.'ip y And, forgive me, dear reader, I fljpst have my iways about when "the devil's to pay." Odessa , Nov. 1868. shines. it on I But if you are I • eye,' I am JJojntlar IÜhIph. AN OLD MAN'S STOEY. Many years ago, a temperance meeting was held iq a certain village. A little boy, who lived jp the village, was very anxious to go, and persuaded his father to take him The boy never foygot that meeting, and he wrote the account of it years afterward. One of the speakers at the meeting vVas an old man. His hair was white, and his brow furrowed with age and sorrow. When be rose to speak, be said : " My friends, I am an old map, stand ing alone at foe epd of lifo's journey.— Tears are in my eyes and deep sorrow is in my heart. I am without friends, or home, or kindred on earth, always so. Once I had a mother. With her old heart crushed with sorrow, she went down to her grave. I once had a wife—a fair, angel-hearted creature as ever smiled in an earthly home. Her blue eyes grew dim as the floods washed away ifo brightness, and her ten der heart I wrung till every fibre was broken. I once had a noble boy ; but he was driven from the ruins of his home, and my old heart yearns to know if lie yet lives. I once had a babe, a sweet, lovely babe ; but these hands destroyed it, and now it lives with Him who loveth the lit tle ones. Do not spurn me, my friends, continued the old man. There is light in iny evening sky. The spirit of my mother rejoices over the return of her prodigal son. The injured wife smiles upon him who tqrns back t f> virtue and honor. The child-angel visits pm at pightfall, and I seem to foe! l)is tiny band upon my fever ish cheek. My brave boy, if he yet lives, wquld forgive the sorrowing old man for treatment that drove him out into tho world, and the blow that maimed him for life. God forgive me for foe ypip |[ have brought pbopt ige. "I was a drunkard. respectability, I plunged iuto poverty and shame. I dragged my family down with me. For years I saw the ohoek of my wife grow pale, and her step jgroiy I left her alone to struggle for foe ren, while I was drinking and rioting ut the tavern. She never complained, though she apd foe children pitep wept hungry to bed." " One New Year's night, I returned )afo to foe hpt jyfieve charity had given us shelter. My wife was still up, aud shiv ering over the coals. I demanded food. She to}d ipe there wap none, and burst ipto tears, I fiercely ordered her to get some. Slie turned her eyep sadly upon me, the tears falling fast over her pale check. At this moment the child in the cradle awoke, aud uttered a or y of hppger, startling despairing mother apd making pew row ip her breaking heart. •f We baye po food, James; iye ^ave Ijad none for peyernl days. ï paye noth ipg for the babe. 0 ! my onoe kind hus band must lye starve ? *.* Tpat s,ad pleading face, and those streamipg eyep, end teette wail of the child, maddened me ; and I—-yes I struck het a fjerce bjow ip per face, and she fell forward upon the hearth. Jt seenied as if the furies of hell were raging jn pi y sqip, and the feeling of the wrong I committed affded fuel to the flames. I had never struck piy wife before, but now some terrible impulse drove pie op! apd I stooped dowp as w e !l S? f could ip my drunken state, and clenched both of my hands in her hair. For mercy's sake James! exclaimed p)y wife, as she looked up iuto my fiendish eouptenapec, " yop will not kill us ? You It was not of sorrow iu to of ed in of be ed of ty From wealth aud weary. child the sor bo bad II □ will not harm Willie?" And she sprang to tho cradle and grasped him in her arms. I caught her again by the hair and drag ged her to the door and as I lifted the latch the wind burst in with a cloud of snow. With a fiendish yell I still dragged her on and hurled her out amid the darkness and storm. Then, with a wild laugh, I closed the door and fastened it. Her pleading moans and the sharp cry of her babe mingled with the wail of the blast. But any horrible work was not complete, " I turned to tho bed where my eldest son was lying, »patched him from his slumbers, and, against his his hulf-awak; ened struggles, opened the door and thrust him out. In the agony of fear he uttered that sacred name I wqg no longer worthy to bear. He called me— father! and locked his fingers in my side pocket. I f rasp away end, I shut could not wrench that with the cruelty of a door upon his arm, and, seizing my knife, severed It at tlie wrist. ; but the It was morning when I awoke, and tho storm had ceased. I looked round to the accustomed place for my wife. As I missed her, a dim, dark scene, as of some horrible nightmare, came over me.« I thought it must be a fearful dream, but involuntarily opened tbe door with a shud dering dread. As the door opened, the snow burst in, and something fell across the threshold with adult, and heavy sound. My blood shot through my veins, and I covered my eyes to shut out the sight. It was—0 God ! how terrible, if was my own loving wife and her babe frozen to death ! With true mother's love, she bad bowed herself over the child to slijeld it, and wrapped all her clothing around it, leaving her own person exposed to the storm. She had placed her Lair over the face of the child, and the sleet had frozen it to the pale check. The frost was white on the lids of its half-opened eyes, and upon its tiny fingers. ' ' I never knew what beoame of my brave boy." Here the old man bowed his head, and wept; and all in the house wept with him. Then in tonetf of heartforokep sorrow, he continued ; " I was arrested, and for long months I was a raving maniac. When I recovered, I was sentenced to the penitentiary for ten years, but that was notliiug to the tor tures I have endured in my own bosom. And now I desire to spend the little rem nant of my life ip striving tq warp others not to entßp a pail) )ybfoh haß beep so dark and fearful to me. When tho old man had finished, the temperance pledge was prodpped, and he asked the people to pqp )0 forward and sign it. The eon of the aged speaker re ferred to leaped from bis seat, and pressed forward to sign the pledge. As he took the pen in bapd, lie {jesifpfod a moment. " Sign it, young man, sign it," said the venerable speaker. * ' Angelg would sign it. I would'write my name in blood, ten thousand times, if it would undo the ruin I have wrought, and bring back my loved and lost ones." The young man wrote, " Mortimer Hudson." The old man looked. He Wiped hjs eyes, apd Jooked again. His face flushed with fiery red, and tliep a death like paleness came over it. " It is—no, it cannot be, yet how very strange!" ho muttered. "Pardon me, sir, but that was the name of my brave boy." ■The young man trembled, and held up his left arm, from which the baud had been severed. '1'bey Jqojked, for a ipopiopt, in each other's eyes, aud foe old man excfoinmd : " My own injured boy !" The young man cried out— " My poor, dear fatbor!" Then they fell upon each other's neck and wept tears of penitence and forgive ness together. A Hundx-eil Vr.rs In Prlaon. A certain house breaker was condemned iu the latter part of the last century in France, and under peculiar circumstances, to a 100 years in the galley, relate, this man made his a his own native province at t age of 120 years, he being about 20 years of age when tho sentence which oondemned him to such a dreadful punishment was passed. It is djflfoufo fo conpeive what the feeling must have been with which he re turned, as soon as emancipated from the shackles which had enthralled him for a century, to breathe once more the cherish ed air of the sceucs of his infancy. Bourg, in the department of Ain, syua fos pative home, but time had so changed foe place that he recognized it only by the church of Bron, whioh was tbe only thing which hnd undergone no alteration. He had tri umphed over laws, bondage, man, time, everything. Not a relation bad lie left, pot a sjpgle being could he hail in acquaint ance, yet he was not without experiencing the homage apd respect the French pay fo old age. For bim elf, be foul forgotten everything connected with his early youth ; even alj recoUeotiop qf the crime for which be had suffered was lost, or, if at all re membered It was a dreary vis»io» confound ed wifo a thousand qthe) dreary visions of days gone by. His family and cqnneptions for several generations all dead, himself a living proof of the clemency qf Heaven and tho severi ty of man, regretting, perhaps, foe very irons which had been familiar to biro, and half wishing himself again among tho wretched and suffering beings wifo whom his fate had been so long associated—well ight he be called tbe patriarch of bur glars. and sfrange to ppearnnee in lie advanced II t®it and Jumor. Uncle Bun was a queer old man, £ queer old man was he ; 'he owned a ppp], a butting rani—in fact, his butting pro pensitioH prompted him to butt everything he could see. Uncle Ben had a fat old spouse, a fat old wife was she, who used tq feed aud pai} flps co\jrs that cams sq rqg: qjqr iptq Mje (awn every night' and stop ped under a large pear-tree. That fat old wife ne'er used a stool to milk, would ne'er sit down ; and though old Ben called her a fool, yqk stye yoqld never J}eap]gpfy to his advice ; but to refiiprooate the favor, she said he was a clown. But one saa morning, as Brindle stood beneath tliq stately pear-treo, old Ben's wife in a mer T ry mood, was milking her, occupying her usual position—a little elevated in the air. The ram and Ben the fact espied, and loudly Bei) did jfooitt, " &tm$f f?AW(i | squat dogiq !" !(e sternly cried. Bl)t Sflf? didn't hoar him, and before lie could in r terfore, the ram bad turned bis fat old wife inside out. Now, Upcjp Rep waß very wrntli, ah! very iyràtl, ivaç he; )je took the grindstone from its trough, and tying a rope to it, hung it up on a limb of foe old pear tree. Then, like a heavy pendulum, he swung tbpt mighty rock, which seemed to say, " i in up to fop, Up. Rain, so just " come in" and take an afo feotionute knock." Right briskly, then the fight begun ; the stone would not give in, and Ren's old ram would yield tq none ; so he bntted ajl day, apd jyhep Uncle Ben went to be4 f) e 1W hpttipg like alt sin.—-But pfoen eld Bep »fpjjp next day ppd wept jpto the lawn, the rain had butted himself away, and every; thing under heaven, but abopt two jnohe» of bis tail, was used up—completely gqpe, A lady inquires whether we think an action for a breach of promise of marriage can be sustained against the writer of the following verse : "Angel liepeat!) whose folded wi»g My soul would rest, Be mine, for lo I I've bought the ring, And nil the rest Of those house treasures and gfopleraÿ, Which every one who tries fits slate la better has!" A boy was sent by his mofoey fj) saw some stove wood out of rni|road fies. — Going ouf doofa shortjy gftef, s!;e fopnd the youth sitting on the saw horse, wifo hiß heutj down. The mother asked her hopeful son why kc was cast dojjrn arnj why he didn't' keep at l)is wqr)t. 'j'be boy replied tbup : 'f Sly jjpar fpotber, I find if hard, yery hard, fo sever pj.d fie».'' -» A rather fast youth was relating foe ex perience of his voyage across the ocean to sympathising friend. Said be, ." jl'tejl you what old fellow, there's one good thing tfooiR it. though. Yop can get as tight as you please eycyy dpy, apd eyery body thiuks you're ouly scaifok J" " Have you ground all the tools right, as I told you this morping when f went away?" said a carpenter, to a rather green lad whom lie had takop foy pp an prenticc. !• M foft Ml« iwd.-.W. »ffo replied tl;o lad, nppmntly ; Iff pqg|dp'$ get all the gaps out of that." A fellow in an oblivious state took pp his lodgings on the side walk. He woke next morning and straightened himsejf up, looked on the grqupa on which fo) had made his copch, and said: " Well, i^ had a pick axe I wqpld make up iny bed !" A young " buok" now-a-days, is cp r riously compounded ; he has a beaver on his head, a goat-ee on his chin, kids op his bunds, calves on his legs, (and do< skin also.) casts sheep's eye», apd jts louk r ed upon by his doe-ting dfojf as doer at any price. An invalid disturbed nil the inmates of his boarding house up town, recently by ifotfog a dog. Whan askej why he 1 it, he said he hud bee); ordered by hi» physician to take port win» and hark, - ~f - rr A lady advertises for sale one baboon, three tabby cuts aud a parrot. She states that, being now married, she has no fur ther use for them, because foefo Afofohfo qualities are all pqiqbfoed in her husband. 1111 did Two rival belles met at a bo well you look under candle claimed ope, yrifo » stpe»» pp foe cppdlc«. " how charming yog are in foo dark !" answered the other. A tipsy loafer mistook a globe-lamp wifo letters on it for the queen of night. "Well," said he, "if somebody ain't stuck ap .adyertjpepiept pp fop p)oop> What is the difference between Noah'» Ark mid Joan of Arc? Ope was made of wood—the other was Maid of Orleans. --—■ ■ . Fanny Fern objects to men shedding tears ; says it is an infringement on wor man's most valuable "water privileges " - m --— Who is the laziest man? The furniture dealer, becapsc he keeps ebairs and spiaa and loupges about all tbe time. Hqpr !" e*. ligbt ! Carpets are bought by the yard amf worn by the foot. What is the greatest bet ever made ? The alpha-bet.