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: $1,50 P E.ll A. N N U M W . .mr . ' '' ' : . : P E.E A N N U M IF PAID IN ADVANCE,' ;.s:iy:::'-':y,:i':. St Mcchlu fmpal, Jpektcli to ; lueteiirfcwp SI N G L E.C;0;P;I: fifcniture, kicnce, ani" Coeval Intelligent. Z,;ilAGAN, Editor and ProDrictor. &TEUBEXVILIE, OHIO, WEDNESDAY, MAilCIl 18. 1857. VOLUME 3. NUMBER II., fjoctni. GASPAB, BECCERRA. BY II. W. LONOFBLLOW. By his evening fire, the artist ... Pondered o'ej his secret shame j . Baffled, weary, and disheartened, l Still he mused and dreamed of fame. ' 'Twns an i.nage of the Virgin, That had tasked his utmost skill ; . r But, alas! Ins fair ideal Vanished and escaped him still. . From a distant Eastern land . ' . Had the precious wood been brought; ' Day and night the anxious master At his toil untiring wrought. ' .Till discouraged and desponding . Sat he now in shadows deep, And the day's humiliation ' Found oblivion in Bleep. When a voice cried: " Rise, 0 master! From the burning brand of oak Shape the thought that stirs within thee! And the startled artist woke. Woke, and from the smoking emhers Stiized and quenched the glaring woo,d j And therefrom he carved an imnge, And he saw tiiat it was good. 0 thou Bculptcr, painter, poet ! Take this lesson to thy heart j That is best which lieth nearest ! , : Shape from that thy work of art. out on the broad, front sieps, and kissing rocked he'r cradle poor, little motherless going to stop now ?" cried Cora in alarm, my cheeks, said, "Cousin Jennie, you thing too many limes to forget." for the old lady had laid down her knit- are very welcome." Cora's look of incredulity had given ting. . But it is noi to tell you of that summer way to one of curiosity. "Grandma " No my child," and she removed her lough I look across the gray years to its Deane, won't vou tell us all about it ?, spectacles and wiped her eyes. "Cut . i - i- .- green picture in the May-land of my Jennie and I will sit down on his big the rest is a sad story, and J musthurry memory, that I have taken up my pen stool, and I know by that look in Uncle over it. this morning. . Charlie's eyes he wants to heRr, too. '' I don't know exactly how it happen- Sufhce it, the mountain breezes of Come, Jennie, let the flowers go;" and ed, but that winter Lucy's father got in Meadow brook did their work well ; and iffy vivacious cousin established herself to a terrible law suit with Squire Wheel when, in the early autumn, my mother on the stool at the old lady's feet. er. There was some flaw in the title, came for her child, she could hardly iden- Grandma Deane slipped theyarn round and people said it was plain that the old ify the rosy cheeked girl, that rushed in, her little finger, and commenced : ''Let man must let the homestead go with her curls dangling about her face, me see, ii cannot be more than forty two They said too, he'd never survive it ; and put up her rosy lips for a kiss. or three years this summer, since Jus- and better, perhaps, he never had, than I think it must have been nearly two tin Keep came tip to Farmer Reid's, to kept it as he did. - Cut one day squire months niter my domestication at Aunt let hnnsell out tor a hired ooy inrougu nur- w heeler, to all the neitfhborlioou s as- Myra's for so I called my mot hers cous- vesting. ton ishmer.t, rode over to the farm. in belore Uncle Uharles trace, her i he lleiu s house stood a Utile tins What he did iliprp wa npvpr rvnft uisband's brother, visited us. He was a side of stony creek. There's nothing left y known but in a little while it was ru minister and Cora and I anticipated the of it now except the chimney, that - looks more( that the suit was withdrawn, and gentleman's advent with anything but out, gray and cold, from the green grass come aprinff Lucy Iteid was to be mar pleasurable emotions. all about it ; but liny years ago it was a Our preconceived notions of ihe gen- fine old place, wjth the lilacs in front, and tleman's elongated visage aud solemn, the hop. vines running all round the bad;. Puritanical manner, w4iich we regarded Lucy was hardly three weeks old when as necessary concomitants ot the protes- she lost her mother. Her lather never sion, soon vanished before the kindling of married again, and the child grew up over smart, the neighbors whispered : and his smile, ana Die winning gentleness oi there in the old home, as fair and swaet I alWays thought it was his money more than anything else, that kept him up, " But Justin, Grandma Deane what became of Justin ?" " Thero is a dark look about the whole matter. Lucy was made the victim of - "BLOSSOM IN THE 'WILDERNESS. BY VIROIXH F. TOWNSEND. ' . The following sketch was first published in the " Ladies .Repository, of Cincinnati, more than ft year aim. We now take the lib erty of presenting it to the renders of the Home Magazine. J" Jfid. Homo Magazine." Do you ever form an estimate of the character of people, from the physiogno coy of their houses, reader? I do. And so when the stage swept round the cor- ner, I looked out eagerly, for, as the dii . ver.had told me, about '.' ten rod up the ,road".. stood the . house of Philaiider While. His wife was my mother's own cousin, and I was just thirteen years ol when I went there to make my first visit There had been some quarrel between the families two or three score of years anterior to my visit? and though m mower ana Mrs. white nau never par ticipated in this, the feud of their ances . tors had doubtless evolved ' something of ' coldness between them. ' 'But to "cut short a long story," for 1 fen and paper gossip may be more digni fied, but not a whit better than tea-party ecandal I had. been an invalid all the previous winter. -1 When the soft April days, to which my ' mother looked forward so eagerly, came they brought no bloom to my cheek, no .vigor to my step. My r constitution eeemed to have lost all its recuperative power! and the doctor said; "Send her Into the country, Mrs. May. If that doesn't help her she in lost to you." .via Just before this Mrs. White had heard, through a mutual; friend, of my illness, 'and the very day of the blunt physician's jjtjmatum, brought a letter to my motli . er. ;Fqr. , .he , sake, of our old love, 'Jane' it read, let all that may liave jsome between you and me, 'at an earlier t fime, be forgotten. The grass' is spring. ,jng green on the hills of. Meadowbrpok, nd now in, this lale May is theVtime ' or Jennie to come to us. There is a , 'prophecy of health for her in the soft "L!.Lj'-:t.'.; t.-i-y.t.-".:i.-r:'e ried to Siillman Wheeler. And so it was One bright March day she went into the old Church yonder and gave herself to him. " Ile was a good looking man, but not us manner. He was Uncle rhil s ns the flowers about it, youngest brother, not more I ban twenty She was turning into- fifteen when eight at that time : and his religion had Justin came there that summer, lie was deepened and harmonized his fine poetic a shy, strange, awkward sort of a lad,- temperament without checking the out- and the neighbors all said, ' Farmer Reid I M.I. I .ftl 111 . 1 - I now oi that uncter-curreni oi numor wnicn never d get tue Bait lor In s porridge out ol somo terrible falsehood. I never blame 11 I 1 . . Y I . I . I Fpariueu through ins character. un- him." her lather, for the thought of losing the cle Charlie" was soon our companion in " He d been bound out till he was homestead gccmej completely to shatter our rides and rainblps, and our. conndain eignieen 10 some man uown in luaine, jlir) in all our girlish plans. , ,, and lie' liadn't a relatioa iii the'worid' that 'ii Vn,. linn'. ronlW mi0n tt,,. f he knew on, nor a suit of decent clothes, Charlie?" 'and Cora's hri.rlit face w ,s when he came to 1-armcr Itcid s lifted from the roses and treraninms we ' B,lt for "1l lh,s' Juin Proved llim were weaving into a boquel for ihe par- self a smart- liku,y h ?nd f!le farmcr mantel. "You don't reallv think wh0 so.nehow never wa3 very lorenandea what you just said, that in every lieait '" Ui0m ,us Wlle 8, smaen ll,, ! on.o foMMtntn kl. I real prize "At first ho was gloomy and silent, som in the human wilderness ot every Roul V He put down his paper, and came to ward us. "l haven t a doubt out, my little eirl. The story I was iust readine before Ia,cy of the hardened old man who cried be- Iienrt lliat 8ir1'8 cause the child cave lnm a bunch ol maricolds' corroborates my remark. The " Slie was Just like ? bird round the lioht that is in us can not quite becon-e 0,(1 l,lacR si"ginS from mo'nS nigbt 1 darkness: the heart that mial.t brinff forth nnd ,,er blue e)'.e8' ' ,llal iruita hundredfold' for the harvest 0f ,nolI'er'8. etmed always letting -out one i.'m ...:n m i,.i, ,ia laugh as her red lips did another. I never irUICII. Will IICICI VCb lfCI.LflllLjOUl.il M 1 w .. ... 4 "I only know that Squire Wheeler and his son were at the bottom of it, and that Lucy Reid went to the altar believing that Justin Keep had been fnlso to her." 'Dear me! how dreadful! Did het ever come back?" " Yes, the next Way. Lucy had been a wife two months. He had not heard of her marriage. She was ut home, visiting her father. When she met him at the doing his work, and taking lii.le notice of d ,. f ( ,jk . k . , tlll UUltJ' , MIIU UO UUUKIU I ObUlIU lb JUlif . I'd like to have seen (he smile wouldn't have ert, but some good seed might take root therein. I don't believe 'twould though in far mer Keep. You don't know him as well as I do, Uncle Charlie. He's one of the wondered her father doted on her as he did and of course ; Justin wasn't long in Ihe house before she tried to make friends with him." Poor fellow ! it must have seemed " Cut he carried her into the house, and there they learned all. Both .had been deceived." " It was a terrible scene that old front room witnessed. Justin swore a terrible oath of vengeance ; and it was not till, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, the young wife kneeled to the only man she ever loved, and pleaded for the life of her husband, that he promised fur her sake to spare him. " But from the day of Justin's visit, Lucy Wheeler was a changed woman. richest men in all Meadowbropk,- worth very stranSe nt first' for 1 don'1 thint All the light and gladness of her being thousands and thousands. He's an old ftnP0lly " ever g,ve nim a Kin(1 wora I i-ii 1 . it i i t. bachelor, vou know, and lives in that 1,11 ne camo 10 eauoorooK. .k .,i ihwnn,ik,. " uut ne maue iaauers lor ner nower you remember? Well, ho never goes to vil,es to run on' n"d got 8hellB for thc church : he never dves a cent to the noor : boiders. and PrnPPed UP lhe dahlia9 and 0 ' i 1 ii 1.1. 1 1 1 - 1 I . . aiu a thousand omer tuiugs, .w .icu toon , w,mt sLe haj , d ' .1 .... .... .... . i kind thing in all his life. .Now. don't lunn vl gampu ""I'P". . , I think not.' His father and Lucy's you tbink Farmer Keep why, Grand- seemed dead in her, and she moved about her house, palo aud quiet, with a look of patient suffering in her once sunny eyes, that made my heart ache to behold." " And her husband ! Did she ever tell that is liftinu the edges of mv dr- . per asj write,,., We know, she is, your fXlf and we will be very tender' of your ,; darling. ' Will you not trust her. with us for(i 1 singly summerl" ' ' j "' ... . And before an6(lier week had , passed , my .trunk , was- packed for 1 "Philander White's, Esq., Meadowdrook." I looked out as I said, and there' sat ( the pleasaut white house', with its 'green s window blinds,, between tlie shrubbery 1 in front and the cb'erry trees behind. My J-heart weht oat to it at once,' as H1 did . 8 J jjnVmeritliaWtd' fhe ie'ntle' vpteeA' roWtsrt 'prid the fair, ija' . Jiaired 'jpitV, wiij riisiifd ma Daane, how do you .do ?" The old lady, whose entrance put this sudden period to my cousm s earnest peroration, came slowly toward the rock ing chair Cora drew was the oldest person Hie hair under her cap and made them the best of friends. ' Lucy had a playful, childish way about her, that made her seem much younger than she was ; and then she was small of hera-re: so at fifteen she did . - -i.i .1 ri nut lor lier. She 0CD'" " wf ",ul" J"" in the - village. ' " W,e11' Bl,e rode on l0P ' Juslin . hrty white as hill car' and be'Pec 'lim ,0 bus' the corn in died in less than two years alter the mar riage. The Squire was much less weal thy1 than people supposed, lhe next spring, Lucy and her husband removed west, and somehow people lost sight of them." '' And Justin ? You know the rest, ray child. He side snow, had imprisoned the, 'sunshine H'? barn, and pretty soon the neighbors became a moody, unhappy man j asking of four score and ten summers. But she 0l,ceu 8 Sreai tu l"t ""'" still remained much of the. physical and mental stamina which, with hor active temperament, bad made her so vigorous a woman for many years What's' that you're saying, child He got him a new suit of clother, and his face lost its old down look ; and alter harvest farmer Reid made him an offer to slay all winter. . . no sympathy and giving none, But he was always smart at a bargain, and in a few years laid up enough to buy out Dea con Piatt's farm, when his son moved to the south. & Ever since be has added arret to his "So Justin staid, . and. taking Lucy's about Farmer Keen?" said the old ladr! advice' Went (o the dislricl chol 'and lands, and hundreds to the banks! but. with a pleasant jsraile, as she pinned, her though h.e Jiadn ' nny eddicfttion before for all that, he's a man soured to all his knitting sheath t& her waist. ' , " .w","u.u,v ",uu' :n" u,u race-a man who was never known to inai wmitr. . ..; give a little jluld a smue or a beggar a . Well Justin staid with the farmer crU9t of bread. I have sometime thought four years. Then he- had a good offr hig heart waS like a great-desert, without Sonewhtero m York btate, and be conclu- a tiee 10 shade or a stream to gladden it, ded to accept it tor the winter only. , , Aj Tel j, bore a bright blossom ouco , ' Lucy lleid, was grown into a young ftmi beieve ma children, for if is ' the woman by ibis time, and a handsomer word of an old woman, who has'seen and Farmer Keep loved ' a girl once " one. children, those dim eyes never look- known muoh 0f iho'wn'- of mani it is repeated Cora, with a half-contemptuous eu on. so always. The heart may be a great and wholly skenticalWrl of bef lierrv-red ."I don't know bow it happened, .for wij . . lut in .otne 0f ill bu wavs " ' : ' -. , .... lit' 1 . r . t . I . ' rf " O lip, , .'iSI.e'aforgoilenshe.. added, in an 7 - m8n uaT6 nau " P 01 "ie lhere, his grown a flower. undertone toher uncle and me. - Grandma ooys iormi.es around, vm someuow a . Cora amJ j ,ooked w each other anrJ Bt Deane was sliehtlr deaf.'' ? "' took to; Justin,, and when he leit they Uncle' Charley. Just: then ' Aunt Mira tin '1 hn Wt fortrotfen either." n a. were enffaged to be matried one year irom tn. shn hurl her.,, ,. anH oi ,. , V .Why I.' was telling Uncle . Charlie what a cold kind of a man he is. .: You've always known him, Grandma Deane. H.T ! trl . 1 - ' . ' ' ' iiow, aiu ne ever do a good thing, , or ever Iqve anybody in his life?" . ..Yesi heoyed once a . young girl, ; I remember." i m ! f.- (1 ehr forgotten either," pla- r einghefhand on Cora's hair. haye V,a"n'e! ':.! --y. i '! ' X heard of Grandma Dean's visit. ,oj: Re,id4t jjr Wjojlcn, andl rwny, wranuma,.i'euei, you .areu m But Cora, stole tip. to hcrnncle, it'd winding'lier arms about his neck, whis pered, " I shall believe it always, uncle Charley, now I have heard that story abnut farmer Keep, there is a blossom in the wilderness of every heart" It was a sultry August day in the sum mer 1 passed at Meudowbrook. The wind, low. and slumberous as the hush of a mothers voice at nightfall, crept up through lhe corn, and down nmoiiL' the rye and wheat ileitis, that lay like brond, green folds about the dwelling of Farmer Kepp. There was no poem of flowers written about the Tr6nl yard ; no graceful, harmonizing .touches of creeping vine or waving curtains ahout the old red homestead ! arid yet it had a quiet 'sub stantial, matter of fact physiognomy, that somehow made a home feelin? about your heart. I think it must have been this uncon scious feeling which decided lhe course of the girb w'1h stood at' lire point where the two roads diverged, and gajed wist fully about her that afternoon. She seemed very tired, and her coarse straw -bonnet and calico dress were cover ed with dust. If you had looked in her face you would not have forgotten it. It could not have seen more than fifteen summers. It was very pale; and its sweet, sad beauty made you think of nothing but forest-dowers drenched villi summer rains. Her eyes were of that djiep moist blue, that rolls out from the under edge oi April clouds, aiul her lips, ripe and full as meadow strawberries, had that touching sorrowfulness about them which tells you always (he heart beneath is full of tears. The girl's hand clasped tightly the lit tle boy's by her side. The resemblance between them would have told you at once they were brother and sister, but lis life could not have covered more than a third of hers. The little fellow's arge eyes, were full of tears, and the bright curls that crept out from his hat weie damp with moisture. He was iungry, ami tired, and motherless. What s.idder history can one tell of a little child!- There, Benny, cheer 'up. We'll go to that old red house there, and see what we can do. Don't it look nice with the great trees in front ?" said the girl in a tope of assumed cheerfulness, and she quickened her steps, " Yes. But I'm so tired, Lucy. If I only had a big piece of bread and but ter 1" " Well, dear, I'll try and get you some there. It don't seem like begging to ask for it in the country." A few momenls later she opened the broad back' gate, and went up to the kitchen door. FarmerKeep's housckcep er an old woman, with a yellow white cap, and check apron tied over her linsey wolsey skiit answered her knock. Do you Avant' any help, or do you know of any body round here that dyes?' imidly asked the girl. - The old lady peered at her with her dim eyes. " No," she' said. ' Tbere an't but four of Us Farmer Keep, and the two hired men, and me. It's harvest lime just now, though, and I reckon you 11 find a place up in the village." " Thank you. Benny here ray little brother's very . tired, for we've walked from the depot since ten o'clock. Can you let us come in and rest awhile ?" "Sarlin you can." The sight of the little child touched the heart of the old woman, and they, went into the large, old-fashioned kilehen, and sat down in the flag-bottomed chairs, while, with a glowing check, the gitl cast about in her mind for the best' manner in whjch lo pre sent her petition or food. . r Before she bad decided, the master of the hduse suddenly entered the kitchen, for it was nearly dinner time.' He was a largo,. muscular, broad-chested, sun burnt man, with a hard gloomy express ion on the face, where sixty, years were beginning to write their history. He stood still with surprise, gazing onthe new occupants of the kitchen, and the boy drew closer to bis sister, and the girl threw up a timid, frightened glance into the gloomy face.' .' You don't Pnow of nobody1 rinnd here that wants 'a little help, do ye, farm er?" asked the nld woman. " -Here's a girl wants a place; and as sho's walked from the depot, I told her she might come in and rest a bit ufnre fche went up into the village to try her luck. " No," shortly answered the firmer. "Dinner ready?" And lhe rich man turned away, without one gentle word.or kindly look for lhe homeless children whom God had brought to his door. 'Lucy, Lucy, don't slay here; I'm afraid ;" and the little boy's lips curled and quivered as he turned bis face from lhe fanner's. "Lucy, l,ucy!" How these little trembling tone's went down, down, into the man's hard 'heart! How the dead days of his youth burst out of " their graves and rushed, through his memory at. that low broken "Lucy! Lucy!'1 He turned and looked at lhe girl, not sourly as before, but with a kind of eager questioning interest. " What is your name ?" " Lucy Wheeler, sir," He staggered back and caught hold of the nearest chair. And what was your mother's ?" ' Luey Reid. She used to live in Mea. dowbrook, and so I came here to get work, for she told mc to before she died At that moment the angels looked down and saw the seed that had lain for two score years in the hpnrt of Justin Keep spring up, and tho flower blossomed in the Wilderness! ,r He strode across the kitchen to the be- wihlered . He brushed back her bon net, and turned her face to the light. He could not be mistaken.. It was the one framed and hung up in ia the darken- room of his soul. The blue eye of his Lucy looked once more in his own. At that moment the little boy pushed up be tween them, and gzatd wistfully into the man's face. Farmer Keep sat down and took the child on his knee. lie tried to speak, but instead great sobs -came up, and heaved his strong chest. The trio in the kitchen gazed on hi 111 in astonish ment. "Lucy's children, Lucy's children ! he murmered at last, in a voice whose tenderness was like that of a mother. . God has sent you lo me. For her sake this shall be your twine; for her sake I will bo a father to you. " Five years afterwards Cora wroie to me: " We are having fine times now, dear couh'ui Jennie, and mamma wants to know if jou do not need to renew your rosy cheeks among the dews of Meadow brook. Uncle Charlie is with us this summer and if you were here also my happiness wouU' be complete. Lucy Wheeler you remember her has the place in my heart next to yours Her disposition is as lovely a? her face, nd that is saying a great deal, for its rare sweet beauty does me good to behold it. ' Farmer Keep scorns lo worship her and Benny, lie is a changed man now, and goes to church re-gularly on the Sabbath. He has spared no pains or ex pense in Lucy's education," and she will be a most accomplished woman. She is here very often, and I bave my" suspi cions that Uncle Charlie n'tmporte; I will not trust this to pen and paper. : " B ut, 0, Jennie, what a lesson this has taught me ! How it has deepened my faith in God and in humanity! " Now, when my heart yearns, over the wretched, the sinning, the ouicas I remember always there is .A flower in the wu.ranNEss. " A Question. A minister sojourning in our city, in a conversation on duejling, was made aware for tlie first time that surgeons, in their professional capacity always accompanied .be 'parties to the field. He asked (and the question has an appearance of reason, too) why ministers did riot attend in their professional capacity as it was likoly many who' wont on tlie field with serious intentions, one-. would probably need the consolations of religion The suggestion, is an original one, we be lieve, and we commend it to those wbo take part 'In establishing 'the' usages 'of "honor". Savannah Republican. V , 1:''::.''' ' ' ,,' "Who dare 'sit before rthe kingVuh b i hat on. A Coachman. ' ' ' Dancing and Scripture.;" The N. Y. Cliurehman'in a recent, is sue, said, " Dancing, in itself, is an . in nocent recreation, and is beautiful as it is graceful. God is not dishonored by lt ; on the contrary, lhe Psalmist says,; Jjet them praise his name in lhe dance. And so they may all the PuritanisnV in tho world lo the contrary notwithstan ding." . , - Whereupon the Southern Churcuruan thus rejoins: " ' ' ",''"!" " Our colemporary quotes Scripture to stain dancing. We do not know ' that this is altogether to be wondered at, whn so very wicked a person as Satan' tvas guilty of the same impropriety. . Not, of course, by any -manner of means would we be bo understood, as classing our res pected contemporary with so evil an Ex istence. We only allude to this, that it may be seen how Scripture may be abus ed. Here, for instance, are certain: per sons taught a worldly amusement not at all for recreation." Our contemporary will bear with U3 when we (ell him, that this is all cant. There are many .kinds of cant. There is an Evangelical carH, a High Church cant, n Romish cant, and a Worldly cant. Dr. Johnson's advice, therefore, is to be addressed 'to the Churchman" My dear 'sir, free your mind of cant. It is all cant. Baying' chil-' dren are taught to dance on account of the recreation. : They are taught to dance at school only that they may be able lo dance at balls and parlies, and when they go into company. And to advise people to learn to dance, that they marHix; with the most worldly people, under circum stances when everything combines' to chill all devotional feeling, where there is the world and nothing, else j and. tbeijo apologize for all this by saying, thali0l(ie Psalmist says, Let them praise his name in the dance.' Oh! Mr. Churchman, we cannot but again think of Satan quo ling Scripture to our blessed Lord. , ' , 1 Let them praise His name n tjie dance.' So say we, And, therefore, let there be no dancing whatever in which the name of God is not -praised'.. With this rule there would be ail entire aboli tion of dancing, except that kind practised among our shaker friends. . -, - Now it cannot be that we have misun derstood our contemporary," and after all what he means is, that we should, turn Shakers, .and bo conduct our . religious services as that we may be' able to hare . little dances interspersed therewith, Can it be that the Churchman means this! Surely his well known orthodoxy forbids such an interpretation. . We, therefore, . must fall back upon our original interpre tation.; and condemn our contemporary with the adage' of Scripture for misap- . ..1 . 1 1 rr- . . plying tne mspireu recoru. u ay net. Eagle. Get A Homk. Get a home,",'nch or poor, get a home, and learn to keep that iome and make it happy to yonr wile ana -bildren by ;. your beaming : presence ; earn lo love simple pleasures, flowers of God's own, planting, and music of his own, the bird, wind water-fall.. So you shall help .mo to stem the tide of desola tion, poverty and despair, that come tip on so nianyt- through.scorn of little things. Oh, the charms ef a home, though it be . a little neat home ; comfort dwells there that shuns the 'gilded halls of society. Live contented in your little home, and wait for God to give you a nobler one) f3? Jt well known nhvsician in town is veiy much annoyed by an old ladVwho is always sure 10 acuost mm 111 o for the, purpose of telling over , ailments. Once she met him in Broadway.' and , ho was in a very great hurry. 'Ah! l,see you are quite feeble,' said the doctor: 'shut your eyes, ana show me your1 tdh guo.' ; She obeyed, and the doctor, qui etly moving off, left her standing, there lor some time, in inis reuicmoua jiuaiuuu, 16 the infinite amusement of all who wit nessed the funny scene.. MtfiarjiTO Story. A man living near Columbia River Oregon, tells the TollOtf- Ii g story concerning ' the musquitoes-w Being in the. woods,. he was One d" anpoyed by them that he took refuge un der an inverted . fjotash kettle. His first emotions of joy aihls happy dliverance and secfire asylum were hardly over when the-mosquitoes having found Lim began to drive their probosces. through the ket tle fortunately be,had; a hammer in'Jijs pocket and he clinpbcd therr """t as 'they tame through, ' until '.itLi-.s ';t23 such' a" host of them fastened to the poor man's d'omicil, .that they rose and ilcw away with it, leaving him Bhr!:cilfss.