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SED G+EFiIE D ________ _______ 5 Dentottatft Jouvual, Utbotet to Sout~tru NIts, tur, Soltit EeraI *utcIligete, Kitaturt, jtieraitte, et taue, gicultut "Wo will cling to the Piflars of the Temple of our 'eS, and if it must fall, we will Perish amidst the Ruins. - W. C. MORAGEEFIELD, S. C., JANUTAR 21851. )N W.~~~~~~~~~~~~~; F.DRSE rpimIEGFILS ,JNAY181 THE DYING YEAR, BY C. HUNTINGTON. Hrush-hush ! the year is dying Hark! through the old forest dim The walling winds are sighing Their requiem over him In quiet, deep and holy, He sinks to his repose; And languidly and slowly His weary eye-lids close. Now some v 1' tearful sadness, The parting year review; While others hail with gladness, Thc-advent of the new. In glad young hearts are swelling Fresh fountains of delight, In many a festive dwelling The Christmas fires are bright. And stricken ones are weeping Beside the darkened hearth, O'er loved and lost ones sleeping Low in the tranquil earth Strange-strange-what bitter blighting What deeds to startle thought Wild, woniderful, exciting, One short, sad year bath wrought I While we stir the dust of ages, Time's dreamy realms explore Spell out from mould'ring sages, Their quaintly written lore . 'Twere well to bind this lesson, For profit, on the heart, "Men only live to hasten, Like shadows to -depart." From the London Family Herald. MA13MM DLArZDLD. " Way are you so-sad, dear Mabel ?" "I feel as if this were the last evening we should ever spend together, Harry a meet agai.' - iTshav !" said Mr. Delafield; "you are sodesponding, it is enough to-discour lg jIme, Mabel-a wife should always en ge her husband by cheer hould h o..so' -and. o, neokand lookedearn nis'ese A indedwilcii ii iiUii ., ~ -" ..03= = == = = = = = Islo d o4 d-not fixed 'fa~4ob ~ nonsense, Mabel you have giveni m, vapours a eady," and Mr. Dela. fi left his seat, and walked with inipa tient steps backward and forward, mutter ing to himself about the folly and super. stition of women. Mrs. Delafield remained silent. She knew her husband's temper too well to attempt to disturb him, but her thoughts were sad and bitter. She thought of her apparently happy narriage.season five years before-of how ardently her hus band seemed to lovo her then how careful lie was to note her every want, and re gard her slightest wish. But he was changed-his manner was cold and re served-he had closed the banetuary of his heart against her. When she spoke of it he listened unwillingly, and gave as excuses his many cares and anxieties. She knew that much of this was true, for the riches that were theirs at their union had taken "to themselves wings" and flown awvay ; but she also knew, as only a woman can know, that she dlesired to be loved. Then hope whispered gently that the future wvas not all dark, that when this burthen of care, of which lie complained so much, should have been lifted from his heart, all would again be well. Delafield was leaning listlessly against the mantel-piece-his eyes fixed on the decaying fire-when his wife rose softly and laid her hand on his arm. "Forgive me, Harry, if I have been dull and unin teresting. You know I would do any. thing to make you happy." An unusual softness stole over the features of Mr. Delafield as he returned his wife's caress, and he said, kindly, " Brighter days may .como to us yet, Mabel. Cheer up, and let us hope for the best." Trhose few kind words were like the sunlight streaming through a prisoner's bars, carrying glimpses of freedom and hope to his yearning soul. Dreams of future happiness stole over the heart of Mabel as she retired to rest that night, and she slept sweetly, even though she knew that thme coming morrow wvould part her from the one she loved so fervent ly. In her dreams she overleaped the months which wvere to separate thenm, and in the reunion forgot the past, with all its doubts and dreamy fears. What a scene *would this fair and beautiful worl exhibit if hope wvere fixed-if the melody of her voice were no longer heard, and the gleaming of her wings were banished for ever! The morrow came, and with it the dreaded parting-the-sad and silent fare well. With high and ardent hopes Dela field started for the West-there he ex pected to regain theo fortune ho had lost to fulfill his dreams of worldly ambition, and3( be satisfied. Somec weeks passed away, and then came a cold and careless letter to Mrs. be! Dcintild tellingr of anticinated one cess, but not one allusion to the past, nor a hope of future happiness with her. He spoke not of returning nor of send ing for her-and yet, even while the burning tears were streaming down her cheeks, she hoped on, and dreamed of, happier days. She "hoped against hope," and persuaded her heart into the belief that care and anxiety were preying on his mind, and for a little while had swal lowed up affection-but again it would appear refined and purified by absence and trial. Faithful to her own love she wrote a long and tender letter in return-she encouraged him to persevere in his busi. ness, assured him of her own unwavering affection, and looked joyfully forward to the time-when they should be reunited, and forget all past reverses in their crown ing happiness. Months, long and weari some months, rolled on, anI no answer came to her kind and gentle letter. Then Mabel found the truth of those beautiful i words, that "hope deferred maketh the I heart sick," and she thought that any certainty was better than suspense, and c yet at that certainty there was no means of arriving. The reed was broken on t which she had leaned, and, unfortunately, I she had never been taught that there was a higher refuge-a home for the - weary-a resting-place for the broken r heart. 1 A year passed heavily on, no tidings a came to Mrs. Delafield of her husband, I id she gave him up as dead. Her s beart told her that the grave alone could d raise a barrier between her and the hus. h band she had loved so tenderly' But c there were those even among her dearest Friends who thought very differently-who y while they did everything that kindness g [eld would never return. Seven years n passed away and with them the dearest d md kindest of Mrs. Delafield's friends, r md now that she began t n ,or support, she sni thc tiful ant d?"She had learned to look i. orward t ock that can never be bro ken-to " inheritance that fadeth not t iway"-but sad and lonely she could not help but feel as she left the home of her ti iappy childhood to seek a new one imong strangers. Her life had been ;pent among those wrho knew her, and C ooked upon her faults with kindness hey knew that the errors she committed vere not promted by the heart-her faults f .vere only like motes in the sunbeam. After a comfortable journey, Mabel c ound herself in the hospitablo city of s [- , and there first felt how easily ti vounded is the stranger's heart. But Ma. )el had a way of stealing quietly into cople's hearts before they knew it, and a varm circle of friends was soon formed a tround her, so that through their influence y ind by their aid, she opened a school, and d soon had the pleasure of seeing it well huled with happy faces. A year passed ly, and Mrs Delafield wvas comparatively ~ inppy in doing her duty, and thereby preserving a good conscience'. One bright and sunny morning one of ~ her favourite pupils brought a visitor, a ittle girl of seven summers. The child was more than usually beautiful, and Mrs. Delafield, attracted by her appearance,e called her to her side. As shte took the child's hand, and parted the luxuriant I curls from the open brow, her eyes invol untarily wvandered to a locket of gold g which confined a hair necklace around ~ the child's neck. A paleness like that of death came over her features, and she trembled in'every limb; but by a strong effort of will she suppressed the shriek of surprise which arose to her lips, and said as calmly as she could to her favour ite, " A glass of water, dear Mary, I am quite faint." The water was brought quickly, and putting aside the anxious children who crowded around her, she 1 dlrew thte stranger child towards lher, and i said kindly, " Allow mec to look at your pretty locket." T1he child wvas pleased with the atten tion, and unclasping it, hastily laid it in her hands. "Can it be possible ?" thought Mahel, as she examined it; "this certainly was once my own! " Who gave you this locket my child ?" asked Mrs. Delafield, soothingly. " My father-dear, good father," re plied the child, in delight. " What is your name ?"-"Mabel Dela field." " Mabel Delafield !-why that is my name !" andl Mabel gasped for breath ; but she was deternuined to go ont and solve the mystery if possible." " Howv old ar-e you, Mabel !"-" Seven years old in June-and this is June, I de clare." "1-Have you alwvays lived here ?' " Yes, I was born hore ?" " And your name is Mabel Delafield ?" "Yne is is a proe nnm ?-.why d(10 you ask ?" " Why, it is strange," and Mabel tried to speak carelessly, "that you should have my name." " You will love me now because I am your namesake," said the child, as she put her face close to Mrs. Delafield's, and looked into her eyes earnestly. There was something in that look that went to Mabel's soul, and reminded her of Delafield as he was wont to look on ier in moments of tenderness. She press Dd her lips on the forehead of the inno -ent child, and strove to speak in a stea Jy voice. " Can you tell me where your rather lived before he came in this city ?" "In New York." Mabel groaned aloud, but, taking up lie necklace, she clasped it on the child's leek, and said, scarcely thinking of \vhat ine spoke, " And the hair, whose soft, lossy hair is this? Is it your mother's?" " Oh, no, it is a lady's who lives away n New York-she gave it to papa with his locket! "And her name-was what?" demand. d Mabel, eagerly." "Mabel Delafield too-that makes bree Mabel Delafields," and the child iughed merrily. But poor Mabel did not hear the laugh -she only heard the words that had car ied conviction of the unwelcome truth to or trusting heart. She hand fainted, and long time elapsed, notwithstanding the ind efforts of friends, before Mabel howed a sign or life. The school was ismissed; and the innocent little Mabel ad no idea of the mischief she had un onsciously wrought. t And now, kind reader, let me transport ou to a fine-looking house in the same ood city of -. In the parlour sits anton reading th' iorning paper. Near.-iin; eleently ressed, sits a lady, young and beautiful, garding him with an interest which othing but love could create. kkDo lav -'' ist to see how she'd like it, :Lnd toht ner ,e'd follow directly. I hear so much of iis Mrs. Delafield's school that I think it 'ould be better for us to send Mabel iere. By the way, I think Delafield is etting to be quite a common name." "So it is. Did you ever hear this lady's hiristian name I" No, I did not. But why (o you ask ?" "iMere curiosity-that's all!" and Dela eld shuddered inwardly. "You surely don't think it can be your ousin Mabel, Henry. I do believe I iall he jealous of her!" "11 What nonsense, Emily. Do you link my cousin would be here and I not nlow it ?" Such a think might be, but I have half mind to be jealous of her any how; ou called her name so often in your reams last night." "Did I?" asked Delaield, much con ised, but then recovering himself, he dded, " but it was my own little Mabel was calling Emily; and here she conmes ow," and Mabel came running in out of reath, and exclaiming, "Oh!I papa, I ave found another Mabel Delafield !" Both father and mother looked sur risedl, but summoning his courage, Dela old asked, " Where did you find her, my hild ?" "She is thme lady that teaches school love her so nmuch." " I told you," said Mrs. Delafield, play. ully, " that it might be your cousin Ma eh, and I suspect it is; but what brought -ou home, Mabel the third 1" " Mrs. Delafield was so ill-she fainted -and, papa, she thought this locket and air so beautifidm-she took it off my neck umd looked at it for a long time," Delamfield was rooted to the spot-thme nystery was solvedl-he knew that his lesertedl wife was near him--he alone ~uessed the connexion between the faint ng fit and the locket. But Delafield had ~one too far in crime to permit this to rush him without a struggle, and gather ng up all his effrontery, he professed to elieve that the lady in question was his :ousin, who, for seome inexplicable cause, mad not warned him of her arrival. We are always ready to be led by our wn wishes, therefore Emily did not loubt the truth of Delafield, even though mhe thought it strange that he should vince so much feeling on the subject, but vhatever her fears were they were soon :almned by the caresses of her husband. Life had been but as a summer's day to Emily ; no cloud had darkened it, an'd the >nie now looming above the horizon might )ass on with out destroying its brightness. Thuis thought Delafleld as his wife and :hild sat beside him in unshaken confi. hence. "IWell," said Emily, " we must call on ihis cousin of yours, dear Harry, imme liately ; and why not nowv?" " Is Mrs. Delafield papa's cousini sav. mamma, may I not no too ?" then, turning to mly, "I must first go myself. Mabe vcry proud, and she must have som. ause for acting in this wa-y.", "IWell! I doift like proud wocmen, and I shall not like r, I am sure." "Yes, you w joined in little Mabel, yon can't hel[ oving her-everybody loves her." "Sometime t y," said Delafield, as he took up his. t, "I shall call and see her." With a b'Oling heart and a con science that goa him, almost to mad. ness, he left his py and confiding wife, and walked on,i he cared not whither; but at last, as if s steps were impelled by some secret f , he found himself in front of Mrs. D eld's seminary. He ascended the ste and rang the bell with a trembling hand a servant obeyed the summons, and h 'ed, "Can I see Mrs. Delafield I" "She is not w -ut walk in, and I will see!" While waiting rj~the servant's return the moments wer as hours, for he felt that everything de to him in life depen ded on this inte .. The servant re turned and requi his name-his agita tion was intense a. he presented his card, but he observed, ".should have thought of this before." Mrs. Delafield i d, in some measure, regained her comp ure, -and though still pale and agitated, .*e 'was sitting up when the servant broughlher the card; as her Dyes fell npori'tho- 'ime she had dearly oved, she sprangc vulsively to her feet, ind exclaimed, " rry Delafield!" and then ashanied of e sing her feelings to he servant, she sar into her chair, and Mid, " Ask him to.' Ik up." "Herc ! to your .wn room, madam " nquired the servan Yea-Hre-ho a relation a par icular friend." As Ihnerv'antlo ?thi room, she clasp. "Mj forgiveness you have-i. - bearauce you do not deserve." - "You have ceased to love me, Mabel." "Dare you upbraid in with not loving vou ?" And her form towered; her eyes ilated, and she looked on him for the first ime, but his eyes refuised to meet hers. ' Harry Delafield! love is extinguished in ny heart foirever; but I can have com ?assion on your innocent child-on the afortunate woman whom you call your vire. I would not have her suffer the nisery-the wretchedness you have made ne feel-but you, you-what do you not leserve T' " Have mercy, Mabel-do not destroy .heir happiness-do not expose me to ruin and disgrace." "I know what you would ask, Dela ield-you would ask me to bear my wrongs in silence-to bury them in the ishcs of my love for the sake of othicrs -that their happiness be not destroyed -but how can this be?-for whom does your wife take me ? " For my cousin," and his lips quivered mn agony. For a minute Mabel was confounded by his impudence, and contempt sealed her lips, but recovering, she said, " Let it be so, then-but remember it is for the sake of them--not for your sake that I withhold you from justice-and we must nver mcet again." " Howv can I explain that ?" "In any way you like, I will not con tradict you. To your wife and child I will be a friend,-to you as one dead; and now leave me, I would be alone, and may God forgive you as I do nowv!" Overcome by her high wrought feel ings, she sank back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Mabel! farewell !" She did not speak, and he passed to the door; as ho opened it, he said: " May Heaven bless you, Mahel! Will you not say 'Farewell ?' One word ?" But Mabel moved niot; and lie went out thinking how strange it was that she who had once loved him so fondly should have changed so much. When, after some time, the ser-ant entered the apartment, Mabell wvas still sitting as Delafield had left her, but the spirit had fled for ever. She had laid her lire as a sacrifice on another's shrine. It was said that Mrs. Delafied died of disease of the heart, and no one thought of inquiring what produced the disease. Little did the unconscious Emily think as she gazed on that face for the first time, now cold and still in death, of the secret buried in that bosom forever. She dream ed not of the sacrifice made for her and her child. And what wore the feelings of Delafield as he gazed on the inanimate form which had so often rested on his bosom? IHe thought of her never-tiring kindness-of her patience and gentle for bearance-and above all, of the sacrifice she made of her own life. But a secret joy stole over his heart as ho reflected that " the dead tell no tales"-that his danger was past. A few days more, and Mabel Delafield was laid in tho cold grave. The secret of her sudden death was enveloped in darkness euntil all se crets are brought to light, for "then is nothing hid that shall not be revealed." From the Charleston EveningNews. Slavery. Not a few in the free soil States sup pose that Slavery is admitted by us to be, in the abstract, indefensible. Nothing can be more erroneous. We admit no snoh thing. On the contrary, we believe that Providence has established the institution for wise purposes; and that we are the guardians of it. It canuot be doubted that the condition of the colored man is far better in a state of slavery, as it exists with us, than it is either in the free States, or in Africa. From the horrible barba risin of the last, or the demoralizing ten. dencies of the first, this people are alto. gether exempt with u. The most preju diced of those who treat of their condi tion in the emancipated colonies, confess that they have not advanced in coloniza tion. Coercion seems absolutely neces sary to induce the exertion capable of furnishing daily bread. With no class abovo them to excite the ambition of the more worthy, or prompt by fears of the more degraded; with no condition below them, through which to draw comparisons with their own; they are without one great means of civili7ation. In the state in which they exist with un, it is difierent. Here the family relation prevails. Examples of the rewards of faithfulness constantly excite the ambition, and stimulate the ex ertion of each. If they do not become less slaves in the relation, they do, in moral condition. The slave constantly progresses. As his owners' fortunes im proves, his state is rendered more comfor table. His protection, is increased; his You may as well ask the infant, who be gins to creep, to walk. You may just as well demand of the leopard to change his spots. Considering ourselves, therefore, as the guardians of this relation, it is our purpose to defend it to the last. It is not a mere matter of interest : it is one of duty. Tmr. MOST ROMANTmC YF..-A romantic scene was enacted near Alton, Illinois, a few days ago, in which Mr. Henry Wheeler, of Green county, and Miss Minerva Steely, of Macoupin county, played a conspicuous part. It appears that the aforesaid couple, having ascertained that they loved each other almost to distraction, and there being probably some objection made to the union by parties inter ested at home, concluded to elope, and have the silken knot tied at Alton. Upon arriving there, however,after a drivc of forty-five miles, they learned that the marriage ceremony could not be performed without first procur ing a license from the County Clerk of Ed wardsvillec; to obviate which, the party con sisting of the intended couple, and the Rev. Wmn. Mitchell, of Alton, jumped into a skil' and were rowved to a small bar in the river, directly opposite the city, where shortly after sunrise, surrounded by wvater, entirely isolated from the world and the "rest of mankind," but in sight of the whole-city, they solemnly plighted their troth. They returned in a few minutes to the shore, where they were wel comed with three cheers by the assembled people. OPIxioN oF 'mH OnxN'rTus As 'ro Win.-When Noah planted the first vine, and retired, Satan approached, and said, "I will nourish you charming plant!1" He qnickly brought three animals, a lamb, a lion, and a hog, andl killed thiem one after an other nmear the vine. 'rho virtue of the blood of these animals penetrated it, and is still manifested in its growvth. When a man drinks one goblet of wind, he is then agreeable, gentle and friendly; that is the nature of the lamb. When he drinks two, ho is a lion, and says: "Who is like me!" he then talks of stupendous ~things. When he drinks more, his senses for. sake him, and at length he wallows in th< mire. Need it be said that he then resembles the hog? A~OTH!Ea SUCCESsFUL GRai.--On Wed, nesday afternoon, at Boston, a bold villair broke a pane of glass in the front window a the broker's office of Merrill and Sargent thrust his hands inside, and succeeded in ob taning $236 in bank bills, and making gooe his escape. This is the second successfii robbery of money displayed in broker's win dI withiun ten ays nat From the Charleston Mercury. Wages of 2.ahar. AfEssus. EDTrons: The following ex. tract is from a late number of the London Tines. Of course there can be no dis pute about the authenticity or correctness of the statement. I beg you to republish it with a few comments which I will at tach to tho article. It is beaded " Wa ges in Ireland," and is as fboows: " At the petty sessions, lately held at Kenturh, Ireland, an Irish farmer, Green by name, was summoned by one of his laborers for the sum of one shilling and sixpence, which, ie might suppose, re presented a day's work. It appeared, howaver, that it was claimed for three week's work, dono at the rate of I penny per diem during harvest timo-for eigh. teen days, eighteen pence. There was no dispute about the fact of the labor having been performed, the fanner's reluctance being grounded on the exhorbitant char. acter of the demand. Mr. Green declar ed that he should never have thought of engaging a starveling liko the complain ant Walsh at that money, when he could get the best men in the country for as little. He could bring a witness to prove that the wages really convenanted for were one half-penny per week: it was purely a commercial question; he had made a bargain, as he averred, in accor dance with the state of the labor market in that locality, taking into consideration the capacities of Walsh; he considered that a bargain was a bargain, and ought to be kept; finally, he tendered the three half-pence as the amount of the legiti. mate claim. Astounded by such an offier, the magistrates demanded of Walsh what hohad obtained in the way of food from his employer. They received for answer as follows: " Whilst I was with him I was obliged to be up in the morning about 4 o'clock, to let the cows out of the sleep ing-field, and remain herding them until the other men would dome tWheir work, is it not a mocxery to callelia'unr as one half-penny per week for labor in harvest, wages. It is the wages of death, and the curse of a country where one class own the whole of the soil without being under any obligation by law, or self-interest, to feed and clothe those who perform the labor of tilling and making it k-Ing froth fruit and human food in abun dance-food, too, which, like Tantalus, they are daily doomed to see without daring to taste. No doubt the plaintiffin this case is doomed in future to forego the luxury of a little corn meal gruel and the wages of a half-penny a week, for he is now a marked man-lie is one who has dared to rebel against the exterminating institution of free labor in Ireland, and he will be cut aff from the scanty pittance that has hitherto sustained life, and he will soon be numbered among the thousands of poor "starvelings," as the defendant unfeelingly calls him, who have already suffered the cruel punishment of death for the crime of poverty. Will it be said there is no similar state of things in America, and therefore no neced of harrowving up the feelings of those who have a heart to sympathise with af fliction, by the recital of such tales of misery. T1rue. But how long would it take to produce just such results, if the three millions of human beings, who are now fed and clothed better than any other three million of laborers in any country on earth, were turned loose like the poor Irish, without a foot of land to cultivate, or a roof to shelter them, and without any provision whatever for food and raiment? I am often asked at the North, where I was born, and have alw~ays resided, ex cept in my sojournings, in the South, where I have no interest whatever in a pecuniary point of view, howv I can advo cate the institution of slavery, as it is well known I have done by my wvritings and public addresses for somec ten years part. Do I need to give any other answer than the above extract from the London Times 1 I advocate it because I desire that I may never live to see the wages of labor ini America-reduced to that point of infernal wickedness wvhich now prevails among a people who are constantly denouneing those who own slaves, as "inhuman mand Fsters," while there own flesh and blood'i perishing for wvant, or sustainitng life upor the very garbage of the earth, that th< " poor slave" would spurn from him wvit as much disdain as a full fed London Al. derman, after creating an appetite at ar Abolition lecture and satisfying it upor roast beef or turtle soup. cI f~advot i, ecause after years oj carfulobsrvaionthroughout the eutirn South, I have never seen as much hjumar misery among the hundreds of thousand' -of slaves that I have seeu' in all condition! Iof their life, as I have seen among th Inegro population in the course of thirty -minutes walk from the very centre ol wenah mi luxur- in the City of N. York I advocate it, because I hope I' inthropist, and willit *A system, I care not hy .D be designated, that prdue^ amount of human happiesst't t humber of the human fam I remain, most r S4 Charleston, Dec. 21, 850. ThE BRITISU MI3T does aw immense b-ui ness. The amount of gold cehied reaehed $400,0000l; the silver *a.s only $11,300,000, and the copper Amii.wie; a little ever $3,000,000. THE Ri.nT o' a State to secede from" AS Union has been asserted by almost all tih original parties to the compact; firstby Vir ginia and Kentucky; then by Massaehub6tts,\ -v Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Fh*Lib . and Vermont, and lastly by South Georgia and other Southern States. . 7 ir GERMANs N CINsDEATL-s an evi dence of the German population'otfncinnati, It is stated that forty thousands letters are received annually at the Post Office in that city, from Germany, and the amount of post age collected on them is $14,003. THE LArEsT CunosxrIms.-A smal quantity of tar, supposed to have been left where the Israelites pitched their tents. A fcte made of the railing of a scold. ing wir* A plte of butter mado from the cream of ajo. Thesmall coin in the "change of'the moon." The original brush used in paintitigde "signs of the times." The very latest contracts with. the "Trade Winds." The chair in which the sun A garment for the nd The hammer whicl fgggh!ould g h or ~go give him hnrble: titis~e . turedly refused to ) threatened to " gazette" him as a co "Well go ahead-I would rather fill twenty newspapers than one coffin," was the hearty response of the old gentleman. "FATITER did you ever have another wife beside mother ?" "No, my boy; what possessed you to ask me such a questionI" "Because I saw in the old family Bible where yon married Anna Dominy in 1835, and that isn't mother, for her name was Sally Smith." GoING IT.-A chap went into a confec tioner's shop the other day with his five daughters, and called for one ice cream and six spoons. After the cream was duly devoured, the old fellow asked his daugh. ters-" well girls, ain't you glad you come 1" DARK~ DEVLoMEN~s.-" See - Gumbo, why am you like a blackguewrd ! " Neber guess dat in de world,, iz I 9 ain't you brack fool." "You is, honey, coz you watches massa Jim's store and you's not, a berry whito guard." a "Now, Pete, dat ambery surprisius' and conblustificating to calen at ,*t niggar, why is you like a geni& + Dah!l dat stump him." " Bress my soul, Gumbo, I nc~~.~ ob dat-gibs her up.". - "Yah, yah ?-so does I, sensible as!I i-been tinkin of it tree days, and fudder off' now dan I was at de start." A WAG entered a store in London yecar. ago, which has for its sign, "The T'1ivh Baboons," and addressing himself to th~ proprietor, said. " I wish to see your partner!l" "I have no partner, sir." "I beg your pardon, sir, and hope you will excuse the mistake." "Oh, there's no harm done; but what made you think that there were two ofus I" "Your sign-The Two Baboons." AN IIsMAx who had just arrived from the Emerald Isle, hearing a gun fired at the closing of the day, asked what the noise meant. Being told that it was the 'sundown gun,' he exclaimed, " Does the sun make such a divil of a noise going down in this country 1" "PAPA, have guns got legs t". "Why, no James," "Irow do they kick, then t" " They kick with their breeches, my son." -AN IRISH paper has the following:i "Yesterday' Mr. Kelly, returning to tomb, fell down find broke his neck, but bhappi ly received no further damage.'' Wheu sonrow is -asleep, wake it bot.