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True American. (Steubenville, [Ohio]) 1855-1861, March 15, 1855, Image 1

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P. B. CONN, PUBLISHEE,
COMER MAEKET AND 4TH SIS.
2 PER AN N U My
INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE, -
Z. RAGAN, Editor and Proprietor.
:Ad Silt
From the Waverly Magazine.
TWO SIDES OF LIFE'S PATHWAY.
...
8T AMAXDA M. DOUGLASS.
. CHAPTER 1.
'Ti love alone that makes this earth
Less dreary Mian a desert wild."
It was even ide the slow decline of a
fair summer day. The western fires had
tot all burned out, and indolently stretch
ing themselves over the horizon were gold,
-blue, and crimson clouds, commingling
together, as if fearful night should steal
away day too soon. Tho air was balmy
with fragrant odors tho last sigh of tho
flowers ere they folded their petals, and
were lulled by tho stfutb wind to sleep.
The rivulets, too, seemed to feel a change,
for, instead of the gay, glad dashing of
mid-day, they wound along softly trilling
their evening hymns stopping a moment
to return the kiss of overhatfging flowers,
or tall grass, while tire tlttc night star
. peeped up here and thcrc,'tycuing its tiny
leaves to receive the genial dew, and greet
its sister spirits when they-.igfct'dance on
; heaven's broad plains Arotad tho edge
.'. of the forest, twilight was dimly stealing,
f nd the littlo firo-flics lit their lamps and
t-darkpsed them again, half unconsciously
Jsveahng the deeper darkness, while voices
Innumerable sent forth from their leafy
Invert a concert of wild, unwilttcn, yet
; tweetly varied music brokcn occasionally
by tho shrill scream of the night-hawk, or
..the lingering sadness of the whip-poor-wills
t Jay .'v The day had been beautiful; but
evening, as it came to the weary spirit,
toothed each rising fear, imparting a Be-
. fene calmness to the soul, until it half
started from its dreamy sphere to 'hold
1 -tommunion with those above.
f J Allan Everard walked along the road
-'jiile, unheeding aliko whether there were
i roses, planted by loving angels, in his path,
i W thorns sown by demons whether there
vires a glorious eky, painted by nature's
great limner, God, over his head, or the
f loft velvet turf under his feet, bespangled
tith buttercups and daisies; it mattered
".but littlo to him then, for memory, with
3ier countlesslihgers, was busy at his heart,
Imi bo tightly were the chords drawn, that
1 etch one she touched woke acute mental
Htuffering yet no sound passed his lips, no
i look indicated his agony, save perhaps the
' lines on the brow. were deeper, and the
lips tightly compressed these alone spoke
J of suffering, yet a stranger would only
have noted Btcrnnces.
' Silently he walked along. On one side
. were large trees, where', ever and anon
the fairy fingered zephyr swept the wind
harp, reverberating molody through the
giant oaks, that had for centuries defied
the blast ; pine, laurel, cedar, all inter
mingled, weaving one mass of statelincss
and grandeur. On the other side lay
Rosedell, calmly sleeping in the hazy twi
light, while guardian-like the broad river
flowed around, as if the massy waves would
engulf one who dared stop on the shore of
that Eden spot with a thought of desecra
tion in his heart.
Allan Everard was an ardent enthusiast.
From boyhood he longed to steal away
from the busy, eareless crowd, and pene
trate the deepest reoesscs of nature wan
der where the finger of God alone had tra
eod but none of these things filled his
heart now. It had been bliss to rove with
a spirit free and untrammelcd with a soul
full of lofty impulses, that might be felt
but not uttered; there wero opening flow-
en to Bmile on such a path there wero
. singing birds, and nature's multitudinous
voices to inoite tho spirit to its utmost;
but when a stranger hand had despoiled
. those flowers, and loft but the impress of
misery where lately all was joy and beauty;
there eould be but little bliss, left for the
offerer.
Neither to the right noi the left did he
turn, except when a neighbor passed and
..aid, "good even' " and then he merely
.nodded his head, as if fearful of losing
' eelf-control if the Kps were opened. Once
thej would have looked up cheerily and
asked, "How is Luoy and the little one ?"
Irut now their unspoken pity almont chafed
i vMeeklg Journal jjpetotefo to American ntensis; fiterato, 3tmttt anb feral Jntdliptt
his proud spirit, and he bit his lips until
the blood came. '
At times Allan Everard was handsome.
There was a high, commanding brow,
shadowed by jetty locks, that spread them
selves in wavy lines a full black eye, firm
and unshrinking as an eagle's hand
somely arched cyc-brows, whose very dig
nity lent a nobler aspect to the whole
countenance. "When joy gleamed in tho
eye, and the lip spoke gladness, there was
something in the enthusiasm of the finely
sculptured features' that won admiration,
not for the mere beauty, but spirituality
and intelligence. Tho features were not
less handsome now, but there was an inde
finable something in the firm setting of the
ips together, that destroyed the half-
wrought dream, and left a dim remem
brance of the forest oak, when the light
nings have shivered its branches, and the
warm sunshino comes only to reveal the
deeper desolation.
Presently he turned from the road side
into a large lane, bordered by tall poplars,
on whoso heads seemed resting the fleecy
clouds above, aud in a few moments he
reached the garden gate. Oh ! how love
ly the pure white cottage looked, half em
bowered by fragrant vines, where slept
alike, the butterfly and the humming-bird
where the south wind breathed melody,
and the rain came in gentle patters, as if
fearful of disturbing the blessed ones with-
in
Ilis hand trembled as he Unfastened
tho gate latch, and his car vainly listened
for some sound to break upon the oppres
sive stillness. There were no merry voi
ces of childhood no ringing laugh no
sweet soug mingled with harp-strings, to
wake an echo in his breast no wifo or
child bade hira welcome home
Homo there is a home in the hearts of
beloved tones, and bright eyes watch for us
speaking a strange language, in mute but
eloquent tones, that none but ourselves
may read ; there is a homo on the deep
blue Bea for tho sailor, and the sparkling
waves smile answeringly to his fearless
greeting : there are tones of lovo for- the
weary laborer, when tho day's toil is over;
and though the fare be poor and scanty,
there are sweet smiles and kind words to
buoy tip his heart for the coming morrow :
thcro is a joyous hum to greet the honey
laden bee at night-fall : there are soft rust
lings for the bird, and silver murmurs for
the brook : all have their welcome. But
oh ! how dreary to reach tho spot called
home, and find no answering tones no
eyes reflecting our own emotions no vol
ces to fall upon our ear in the rich tones
of unasked sympathy : but sit down by the
fireside, and gaze in the vacant chair, feel
ing loneliness utter solitude and this
was Allan Evcrard's welcome.
There was a timo when his wife would
have been listening for his foot-fall, and
sprang to meet him. Where was she now ?
dead ? If the noiseless King of the
shadowy realm had sent forth his rilandato,
summoning her to that, and "where there
is no sorrow, nor any crying, and all tears
are wiped away," Allan Everard could
have folded tho lilly hands across her pure
breast, kissed her cold brow, and laid her
down to her dreamless rest, with a hope, a
hissed hope of re-union in that fair land
of bliss ; that hope would havo lighted up
his loneliness. But a worse blight than
death had fallen on Lucy Everard the
puro wife of his bosom ; the wifo of all
his dreams was faithless.
Slowly did tho desolate man open the
door and gazo furtively around, as if fear
ful of discovering some forbiddon occupant;
but, save the child that lay sleeping on the
floor.' no human bcinc but himself was
there. The sound of his footstep woke
Ircarily in that silent room, until he half
started at the echo and then the proud
man knelt beside his sleeping boy. It
was a scene that a painter would have
joyed to look upon that pure child in all
its innocence and beauty, with its fore
head scarcely less fair than tho snowy pil
low it rested On, and partly shadowed by
a profusion of rich auburn curls, that fell
lovingly around the transparent temples,
where the blue and red veins intersocted
eaoh other. . The features had a feminine
softness, such as is often observed in young
children ; but the mouth, in its sweet re
pose, was lupre like an opening rose-bud
in its first freshness, ere the leaves hav
STEUBENVILLE,
ost one ray of color, and gemmed with
dimples that lay like ripples of a fountain,
or dew in a violet's cup.
The lips parted, and a smile so sweet
broke over the features ns the father lean
cd over, and it murmured, "mother, dear
mother," that an unbidden tear starts 1 to
his cy5. One tiny' hand clasped the gilt
band of his drum, whilo the other was en
tangled in the long silky threads of his
hair, while the little blue coat displayed
the fair, round shoulder, exquisitely moul
ded. The embroidery on the child's dress,
aud tho tastefully arranged room, all told
of woman's hand; but oh! could it be
woman's heart to leave such a paradise ?
Again the child murmured, "mother 1"
and, as Allan Everard kissed the fair brow,
the golden eyc-lnshcs slrwly parted, disclo
sing large, lustrous bluo eyes, so pure and
holy that angels might have seen their
images reflected therein, and claimed him
as a gem of light.
"Where is my mother ?" the child asked
in trembling tones, while tears glistened
in tho radiant eyes. .
Poor child ! had'st thou asked for wealth
for glittering' baubles for any thing
money could have purchased, thy request
need not to havo been deuied thee but
nought can buy a mother.
Allan Everard procured a light, and
then took the little one on his knee, say
ing, as he displayed a gaily painted toy,
"see, Eddy, what father bought you!"
The child turned sadly away, and laying
his head on his father's bosom, sobbed
half iunudibly, "I want niy ' mother you
said maybe she would come back."
The father bent down his head on his
hand, and thought whether ho should lull
his child's young spirit into forgetful ness,
or read to him tho sad story. Perchance,
in after years the tale might fall withcr
ingly on his heart, when told by the scorn
ful lips of strangers : no, better to tell him
now, and ho raised his head, saying,
"Eddy has no mother now."
The child clung closer to his father as
he asked, "Will she never, never come
back to us?"
Allan Everard kissed his child's fair
brow as he replied, "no, she will never
come to us again ; and father must hush
you to sleep, and hear your prayer now,
for you have no other friend. "
Tho little ono put his tiny baud to his
brain, as if ho would have, dispelled the
mist of childhood, and then he said,
slowly
"It was a long time ago, when the
ground was all covered with snow, that I
asked her where the pretty flowers were,
and she told mo the angels had folded up
their leaves so the cold winds might not
hurt them ; but when the warm sunshine
came, so I could run out of doors and play,
they would all be here again, and I watch
ed by tho window for them until they
came; if I watch for her, will she not
come, too ?"
The father shook his head, for his heart
was too full for utterance; but the boy
continued
"Sho is not dead, for they did not put
her in a coffin and bury her in the ground
like old Margery. Why will she not come
back?" and the blue eyes were fixed anx
iously on the parent's face.
For a moment he paused, and then an
swered bitterly, "Because she did not love
us any longer; she was very, very wicked,
and now we must never mention her name,
for she is unworthy to be remembered."
An hour later, and Edward Everard
knelt, for tho first time in his life, at his
father's knee,' and breathed the orisons his
mother had taught him. Ero he had fin
ished, he opened his eyes and asked, in a
low tone, "must I not pray for her ?"
But tho father's heart was fearfully proud,
and he whispered, "forgot her you have
no mother now." Only a moment did the
ehild linger, and his lips moved as if some
forgotten word was silently added ; and
then his lips were pressod to his father'i
cheek, and the little one went to the soft,
dreamy land of slumber, '
Allan Everard eat by the table, whereon
lay bis wife's harp, twined with withered
flowers fit emblems of her love; and his
heart went back to other days, as if it
would have fain gathered an, antidote for
the sorrowing presents The shy, proud
boy, with hit heart longing in wild inten
OHIO, TIIURSDAY,.
sity for something to love something on
which the busy world had lo claim; but
no such flower came to twiic its tendrils
round his path alone, ull alone, with a
heart formed tor sympathy and compan
ionship; and what wonderj then, if pride
should usurp the place whurc love might
havo reigned. Wealth dni fame ! but
they would not bring to the care-worn
spirit, rest tho blessed rest he longed
for; and many a time, in hipl onward path
did his step well nigh falter, and his eye
grow dim, when he thought, were the fu
ture's wildest hopes realized, there would
be none but strangers to smile upon him.
There was a tiny maiden, with blue eyes
and golden hair, kneeling beside a new
made grave, feeling this utter solitude.
But of late, loving eyes had beamed on
her, and a kind heart shielded from every
suffering ; but now they were hushed in
the quiet tomb, and henceforth her por
tion must be a cold world's grudgingly
bestowed charity. The sunlight foil in
bright waves around her, but it did not
warm tho heart within. Anon, a stran
ger stood beside her,-and though stern
ness was visible on his brow and in his
eye, the traces seemed moro the impress
of suffering than natural hardness, and his
kind tones won the young orphan's heart,
aud she laid her fair head on his bosom
und sobbed out all her grief.
Tho busy,' restless man, had found a
gem to love a flower, whose brightness
and fragrance might light his own path
aud carefully did he cuard it. All the
furmer aspirations uf Lis boutwoto forgoi-l
teu in this one wild, intense dream of
bliss. Each fond word of greeting that
passed her lips every smile that lit up
her radiant faco, was garnered in the
store-house of memory; and tho proud,
talented Allan Everard, knelt to the crea
ture of his bounty sued for that which
one word from his lips might have gained
from wealth and beauty worshipped pas
sionately and truly at tho shrine of love;
and the being, who but for him might
have been a homeless wanderer, was taken
to his bosom to be loved and cherished
till only death separated.
The world wondered at his choice, and
grieved that one so well calculated to fill
life's busy sphere, should bury the light
of genius in a simple cottage ; but it mat
tered nothing to him what they said. The
vague dreamings of boyhood were in part
realized but bliss like this had scarce
been thought of ; and when the little one
came, in all its smiling unconsciousness,
Allan Everard felt that his cup was in
deed brimfull and. running over j ith God's
choicest blessings.
A change came over the spirit of his
dream. There was a handsome stranger
at Rosedell, whose eye glittered with fas-
ciuation, and whose lip spoke a strange,
intoxicating language; and skilfully did
he weave a net, strand by strand, for the
fair victim but Allan Everard saw it not;
only this he read tho wife of his bosom
was changed. When the stranger spoke
of the sparkling gaiety of the city ita
blazing lights, and undimmcd enjoyment
describing its voluptuous splendor in
glowing adoration, Lucy Everard's heart
turned from her cottage home, in its
boundless wealth of love, and sighed like
a prisoned bird tor tho eonreous citv:
and when her husband turned coldly from
her request for an exchange of homes,
and bade her be reconciled to her own
home, she turned away in tears not of
sorrow, but anger, and willingly sought
the stranger, whose poisoned tongue had
infused discontent in her every vein.
Allan Everard had been walking, and,
as he ncared his home, he heard the gush
ing Bound of his wife's harp, and listened
to words that had not fell from her lips
for many a long day ; and with a softened
tread did he linger at the latticed window,
to catch the light of those features ere the
expression of the song had faded, but oh
how bitter was the disappointment that
awaited him.
Beside his wife knelt tho stranger, twi
ning the long wavy hair round his fingers;
and, aa the song ceased, her bead leaned
lower and lower, until cheek met cheek,
and the lips murmured low words, whilo
the hands unoonsoioualy sought each other.
The husband turned away, and with hur
ried step sought the forest depths, for his
MARCH ' 15, 1855.
heart was full of bijter imaginings. To
see the prize he sued for, and so long cal
led his own, given to a careless stranger
to gaze upon another kneeling where none
but he had a right to kneel 0, God!
how she must have fallen.
When next Allan Everard met his wife,
there was deep, bitter scorn written in
every feature, and the glance of his eagle
eye told her every innermost thought was
read; yet she quailed not beneath the
haughty look, but rather strove to return
it. There passed angry and passionate
words between them bitter upbraidings
and mutual accusations and he. who had
promised "to love and cherish," bade his
wife begone from his presence, and prayed
never to see her face again. Twice 6he
waited not to be told ; and from that hour,
neither Lucy Everard nor the handsome
stranger were seen at Rosedell. This was
woman's lovo.
All these thoughts passed through Allan
Everard's mind, and there came no sorrow,
for pride whispered he had acted rightly,
and the teachings of love were all hushed.
No prayer passed his lips for the erring
one no wish that God would lead her
back in repentance.
Far away from the calm, quiet Rosedell,
in the crowded city, dwelt Lucy Everard.
Tho air that played among her silken tres
ses was close and confined, while a hum of
many voices and rattling vehicles drove
all thoughts of peaceful harmony from her
mind. Her hands were tichtlv elasned.
and her eyes fixed on the floor with pain
ful intensity. Was her heart weary al
ready of this new path, and bitter regrets
her portion ? No, none of these, for she,
too, was proud.
There came thoughts of an early home,
and a mother's voice then her first deep
sorrow, with the full, rich tones of a stran
ger's sympathy, and all the wild love she
had lavished on him. True, ho had be
friended her his bounty had surrounded
her path with every luxury that wealth
and ardent love could suggest ; and when
he bore her to tho cottage home at Rose
dell, Tier young heart was full of joy and
happiness. Her child, her blue-eyed boy
had been a connecting link between them,
and God only knew how she loved both.
Why her husband had changed in his love
for her she could not tell ; but she noted
his moody silence and compressed lips,
and turned away seeking gayer ones. Her
heart was filled with warm, ardent blood ;
that stillness like his, well nigh congealed
what wonder, then, if sho willingly 1S-
tcned to a serpent, whose winning tongue
and skilfully arranged words fell as a balm
on her sad spirit. If her husband loved
as he had said, why did he not Btrive to
retain the jewel ho had won ? Sho had
been the creature of his bounty too easily
won perhaps but slightly schooled in the
world not his equal, for she must smile
when be smiled, even if her heart was
breaking, and weep when he wept, though
it were the gayest hour of her life. Proud,
arbitrary, and selfish, oh ! how blinded she
had been, when, in young dreams of bliss,
she fancied him almont more than perfect ;
and, as the bitter words and scornful looks
came over .her heart again, she sprang
from her Beat and paced the floor, while
her thoughts formed themselves into
words.
"Oh, God !" sho murmured, "to be told
there was a blight on my brow, and sin in
my heart that love for a stranger had
perjured my bouI! Never did I dream
such words would pass his lips. And be
driven from my home a wanderei" a fugi
tive cast upon a stranger's charity oh,
this is indeed bitter ! Well, be it so.
Day by day I will toil for my bread j and
when health, strength, and all are gone, I
can die in a stranger land, and for charity's
sake they will not refuse me burial. This
is man's love." And the proud woman
threw back her silken tresses, exposing a
pure, transparent forehead, and tearless
eyes, for there came no regret, no sigh
pride had well nigh drank up the spirit of
lovo. ''
Ee long she knelt beside her couch,
and in that moment pride gave way to
memory. There wore soft wings rustling
against her heart tones that fell in sil
very cadence, half wreathing the word,
"mother 1" yes that tamed tearrully on
her tiny hands waiting her impress, and
lips, soft, warm lips lingering for only one
kiss aud as she pressed her hand to her
brow, a pearly tear came through the long
lashes and crept slowly down her cheek,
telling nought could sever a mother's love,
theugh others might pass aWay and be
forgotten ; aud fervently did she pray
God to encompass him with holy angels
and let his life be as a summer day ; could
she pray for him who had caused the part
ing that rent asunder ties of long years'
fonnatlon ? When but a littlo ehild she
had read, "Bless them that curse you, and
pray for them which despitefully use you,"
and the forgiving woman murmured gen
tle words for he whose proud lips would
have curled in scorn even to hear the name
of her who prayed. There were throb
bings in her heart that would not be stil
led, and in tho hazy light of distance,
viewless fingers were constructing a strange
fabric a fairy-like cottage, with its trellis
vines and honeysuckles, aud eyes that
beamed gently on her but no, no, never
again would she be there.
(CONTINUED NEXT WEKfc.)
For tli True American.
WRITTEN LANGUAGE NO. 5.
The reform proposed is styled the Pho
netic Reform. It applies to both writing
and printing. That which is applied to
writing is termed Phonography, signifying
writing the voice, or writing characters to
represent the sounds of the voice. That
which applies to printing is denominated
Phonotophy, by which term is-undcrstood
the sounds of tho voice represented by
characters made with types.
By the former art the spoken word is as
quickly recorded. It is easily acquired,
and is of incalculable advantage to man.
But it is to tho latter I propose to call
your attention.
This reform is based upon the principle
upon which written language was first
founded, vizi that every sound should
have its respective sign. The present
Phonetic alphabet is the joint invention
of Mr. Isaac Pitman and A. B. Ellis, A.
B., of England, assisted by suggestions
from the members of the Phonetic Society,
in England; improved by English and
American rhonetic Societies; and more
recently by the Grand Council of the
American Phonetic Society. t i
This alphabet consists of forty-three let
ters. These are those of the common al
phabet, except, o, q, z and twenty addi
tional ones.
This reform is not the mere whim of a
few visionary and crack-brained reformers,
of the present day. It has been the de
sire of many of the wise and learned, for a
number of years. The principles of it
were ardently advocated by Dr. Franklin.
It has received the unqualified approba
tion of such men as Georgo B. Emerson,
Esq., Dr. John C. Warren, Francis Bowen,
Esq., editor of the North American Re
view, Cambridge; Judge Phillips, Cam
bridge; Dr. Oliver Wendal Holmes, Bos
ton ; all members of the American Acad
emy of Arts and Science, the oldest scien
tific body in tho United States.
It has been highly recommended by the
Rev. Edward N. Kirk, the Hon. Amasa
Walker, the lion. Charles Sumner, and
the Hon. Horace Mann "tho world
renowned friend of Education.
Lorin Andrews, Esq., formerly the effi
cient agent of the State Teachers' Associ
ation, and tow the President of Kenyon
College, Gambria, 0., is the present Pres
ident of the Ohio Phonetio Association.
This association is composed of many of
the most distinguished teachers and friends
of education in the State.
The advantages to' be derived by the
introduction of the Phonetio alphabet, are
numerous and highly important, while the
disadvantages are but few, and easily over
come. Persons, who can read the English lan
guage as it is, can, in an hour's time, read
it as it ought to be. Those who cannot
read it, can learn to read it as it is, by first
learning it as it ought to be, in one third
the time now required. To learn to read
it, all that It necessary, Is to acquiro the
alphabet, which takes but little more time
than for the present one, and then to learn
to combine the letters into syllables and
words. "When this is done thoroughly-
VOLUME I. NUMBER , 11.
occupying in the' handsof th'o poorest
teachers, but a7cw mouths, while the heart.
i teachers, .with pupOs. of Jiut .ordinary ta
pacities, huvo taught it iu three weeks .
the child enn read, well, any book printed
phonetically; and in a , short time, any
book in the common print - Proof, abuu
daut, and substantial proof, can be givuu
in support of these assertions.. . -.
It is the present object of the phohetie
reformer, "to teach the present genoratitJi
to read the books of the present genera
tion, but to do it iu such a manner as, ta
lead a future generation to make those
changes for which the present it not pre
pared." Their main object, then, is to shorten
the time it reouires to learn the common
print. They -desire its universal adoption.
They hopo for it. They pray for itL
They use this as the means by which this
"cousiuation devoutly to be wished," iny
and will be affected. ; -j
As some of the advantages of this alpha
bet, 1 shall name a few, without comment,
but am prepared to defend theiu if ueu-i-
It would render the task of learning u
read not only less difficult, but it make it
a pleasant employment for both teacher
aud scholar. It will save a considerable
aniountof time to each individual. It will
open the road to knowledge to many whew
it is now locked ip. It will remove tl.o
great, insuperable barrier to the universal
ity of our language, aud etentually merge
into it all other languages. . It will tend
to preserve inviolate our form of overu
ment. It.-tvill be of -important 'service i
the tlisseiuiuatiou of religious truthj'.-4 '
These aro facts that can easily be prov
en. Can he, dare he, who calls himself a
true reformer overlook them, or without
investigation pronounce them a 'humbug.'
Would such a one be possessed with the
true spirit of a reformer? ' '
It is true uiau cannot be active in every
reform. . . r
He must uetessarily have his prefer
ences. The reform that agitntes the pub
lic mind at present is the Native Ameri
can Reform. This is a noble and a glori
ous reform. Its principals are based oh
truth, and ''truth is mighty and will pre
mil" ' '
But would that Native American refor
mer be consistent, who would refuse to at
least, investigate another reform which pro
poses to aid so essentially in the advance
ment of his cherished reform? Can the
Native American reformer be a "one idea"
reformer ? Will he discountenance a re
form, and call its advocates enthusiasts i be
cause it is dry and uninteresting to' him f
To persons desirous of investigating
this reform, I would refer them to the ex
tensive and well kuown publication house
of Longi.ey Brothers, Cincinnati,' from
whom documents explanatory and recom
mendatory can be obtained at tho rate , of
10 cts. per hundred pges. . ' ,
I would also refer those desirous of read
ing in this utilitarian reform to "The Type
of the Times" a mammoth weekly newspa
pe published by them, printed partly Miu
thenew type. : ;yl,
The price of the Timet is $2,00,;Jbut
such is the arrangement of the publishers
that each subscriber will receive an, addi
tional premium in books ranging in price
from 50cts. to $3,00, according to the
number of copies taken at his office. .This
arrangement will be faithfully complied
with, by the Longleys who are responsible
men, and enterprising publishers!
Address Lonolit Brothers, Cincin
nati, 0.
A Novel Pledge. In Sullivan coun.
ty one of the candidates for county clerk
was pledged to give one-half tho proceeds
of the office to the widow of the late clerk,
and . the other promised, In the event Aof
his election, to marry the widow..
0i
C4
"Have you 'Blasted Hopes r-ai4e(T a
lady of a green librarian, whose face was
much swollen by the toothache.: i f'No,
ma'am," replied the youth, "but I've got
a blasted toothacho." ' ; '
3""Why don't you go to work and fctop
pioking your nose,? "It'e my nose aint
it? andit'i Fourtfuf July foo.' il'IIpU
thunder out of it; if Fre t mind too"

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