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»««11« n« •M» «M J* V :v A. fc CTOKXXVM I. X. HEBACH, Proprietor. VOL. 1. The following exquisite itory from 1Tar ptr't Weekly, is from the pen of FITS HUGH LUDLOW, Esq., the talented young author ef *'Th# Hasheesh Eater fk« l*w Hal tf Jtka Markh*a Fifteen years had rolled away since last I Stood ia the market place of the City of Hartford. I left it when the tarf »ai green and the bird* were making music in the alma the turf was green, and the birds ware singing now. I aaw a staid man in Mack go by, gravely smiling to the children, apd I knew be was the set tled clergyman, but not the one I left there. There were countrymen steading by their cans in the market women chaf faring with penny-worth purchasers in the •talis carriages driving in the street, fill ed with Indies en an airing from the wa tering plaeea near by old men and young teen, women and girls—the manner of life waa even as when I left it the forms, the facta of that one* familiar life ware forever gone. 9 Oh I fifteen years make great differ ences in a returning man. Wherever be aaay have passed them—in a home aa cheerful aa the one abandoned, amidst ca reeses of the beloved, surrounded by plea sant prospects, fondled by prosperity—if he will go baek to the old place, let him remember that a chilly pain awaits him there, when he shall see treea and housca. and the very street stones stay, but the living pasa away and are forgotten. But when a man bas spent his absence as I spent mine—tor I had not been on the Continent, listening now to Rose Cbe rie, now to Tbalberg, now to the cathe dral cadences of Vtlimo, where the flood* break from big resounding lips under the tvar blua arch of a resounding sky I had not been wafted to the upper cataract-, bathed ia the nepenthe of that air which lulled tha old world Memphis gallants— which lulls the Howadji now I bad not been living with friends who, shoulder to •boulder, worked with me hopeful ly4iu the day time, or welcomed ma at night to a (lowing household hearth in a room where my children sat upon my knee, where the rosy firelight danced with the shadowa on the wall, wbera a woman beloved busked down the business echoes in my heart with a rich old ballad in a soft young voice. I do not often call up these fifteen yean, for tbey are melancholy, maddening ghosts. But when 1 do, the music with which they stalk into my thoughts is such as this: a monotonous sound of hammers—clink, clink, clink—always in the same measure, and broken oaly by the fall of stone frag ments I a heavy clank of iron doors mer cilessly shut in reverberating corridors, with nothing but my owu pulse, coming afterward for I spent my fifteen years in prison. Do you ask how I came there Tbe Story is not a long one. I waa a junior partner in the banking house of my elder brother near Hartford. One evening, about nine o'clock, as I was leaving the steps of my lodging, a heavy hand fell up on my shoulder, and 1 turned to see a Sheriffs officer, with bis assistant, stand ing cloae by me. On the opposite side of the street tbe light shone merrily from the window of the woman I loved. I was on my way to answer my invitation, and felt, as every true man feels on such an errand, gentle toward all humanity. So I did not roughly push aside the interloper's hand, as I ordinarily would have done, but qui etly moved out from under it, and said, "My man, there is some mistake bete.— You have taken the wrong person." Any one who knows what it is to lose so completely, in a fearful dream, the self possession on which he wonld steady him self, that bo can no longer say, "This is oaly a dream," bat begins to know that it is actual, will realise bow the awful truth broke on me ia aa instant as the officer answered— "That won't do you are John Mark bam, of Hartford. Ia the name of the Com asofa wealth I arrest you for forgery." Just thea, on the opposite side of the •treat, tbe curtaia went down at the light ed window, and knowing in my soul that it dropped forever between me and tbe one being who in ber hands held all things for which I lived, I felt a quick cold shudder of agony run through me, and my knees amots together like a ooward's. I said no •sore, bat want with my captor. Tbe first night in jail I Ah, that was terrible I The clammy, echoing stone* of the floor ever which I paced in darkness did eat hart ma in their bardaese. The foul coarse paliet on which at intervals I threw myself ia my bewildered weariness, did not chafe me by its coffin narrowness. I was beyond bnrt from such things for in tbe five minutes between my lodgings and my cell I bad become aware that I had been brought to a position whose sub lime awfulness could not be equalled by anything else on eaitb. Quicker by far than I can write, jet in this channel had my thoughts run. My brother, three days ago, gave me in private a heavy draft to be Collected at another banking house, drawn in his favor by one of his correspondents and endorsed by another,^ I remember that he looked fSSflaM when be gave it lo that be juried the room immediately after* «ar«L I pseaented tbe 4*aft I received ftp HM*eji thf boobs, which keep, baa# U accoast of it. Ue foepd. the paper. I am tbe suspected one. I have no means of proving my innocence, unless, perhaps, proving bis guilt. That, most like, is im possible. At any rate, what a terrible step for a man to take against his dead moth er's only other child I And be bas a love ly wife whom it would slay. Yet I myself have—O Ood! shut out her image from mo I mast aot see it I I shall go mad 1 In this groove my thoaghte rolled baek and forward through tbe night Fncing this alternative I stood till the day of my trial just one month. My brother came often to see me he lavished tears and embraces upon me be retained for me tbe best of council—yet he always seemed like one in a delirium of fever, and ever just aa tbe turnkey swung baek the heavy doer to let him out, he would stop for a moment, trembling, and with his lipe half opened as if about to say something more to me—then, without meeting my^aye he would rush from the cell. SuffcrflP as I was, suffering still more, as 1 was aboat to be, from the oonseqaeuces of his sin— I could pity him deeply. I ooold forbear with the cowardice which could not confess, for I knew how priceless liberty mast be to a man who, losing it, leavee bis other soul in that most heart-broken of all wid owhood—the widowhood of a convict's wife. She whom I loved visited fse many times—always bringing me sweet meaaa ges in her presence from the biide, and tbe flowers, and the free sky ouuide—al ways talking with a voice intensely sus tained into cheerfulness of my acquittal, and restoration to our old hopes. 1 told her I was innoceat, and she believed me. 1 could not tell ber who was guilty. My trial came on. I need not pain my self with a long recital of the thronged court, the weary questioning* and cross questioning*, tbe andible ailenoe of tbe crowd when the plea* were made, tbe mo ment whose shadow fell upon me when tbe foreman solemnly said "guilty"—that other moment when I waa condemned to the awful alienage of prison for the fifteen years to rorue. Thea 1 parted from heme aad friends My brother did not bid me good-hye bp lay sick of a raging fever on whose chanc es hung life. But she, the holy, the bero io—who had home all thing*, came to see me go. She clasped my manacled hands in her own she pressed one long last kisn upon the convict's lips, and said, with a solemn cheerfulness, I'll wait for you Then, with a superstition which, frivo'ous though it seem, still crept into the awful ness of that hour, I stopped my watch, and vowed inwardly that iu hands should n«ver more move till we met again. After that the gates of my prison open ed to let in but one message from the life outside. Tbe chaplain brought me a lock of well known soft brown hair, and told me, with a tear in his eye, that an old man had given it to him for me, saying, '•My daughter is with Ood. She died whimpering that she would wait for John Markham." I endured the knowledge of her death with a benumbed patience, uncomplain ingly, rarely weeping a single drop. 1 went through the unvarying round of day labor in the prison yard with a steady, mechanical industry which surprised my taskmaster—for heretofore 1 had bten taunted as tbe weak gentleman," "white fingers,"' and whatever other epithet or in sult tbe harciened bullies of discipline ere accusteuied, at discretion and without fear of resentment, to confer upon tbe wretch ed *n their grasp. At evening, I held up the tress into that faint twilight whioh just flutt^ed through my grates, and kissing it, seemed to aee her by me—for I could nev er think of her as dead. That realization was kindly spared me by the fact that no new void can be felt, no new unnatural, aess, in the eternal void aad uaaataralness of a prison. But one aight ecmiag from work I found the trass gene. Asking the turakey for it, I was told, "Prisoasra are allowed no useless articles." From that moment 1 knew that she whom I loved was dead. Like a wild freshet the agony of tbe know, ledge rushed in upon me. With it came the memory of my burning wrongs—lb* scorn of man spent epon my iuaocent head—tbe perfidy of my only brother— tbe irredeemable belplesaneesof all things Aad 1 abut myself up in sallen, silent madnees. A moat dangerous nmdness it waa. From the time Uat 1 loat tbe tress five years were to elapee before 1 went oat, and if ia that time a revolt had sprung up in prison I had died fighting in He front, for I waa ripe for any crime. Ae it was I only bode my time. Oaee ont I weald wreak oondigneet vengeance on society— on law—on my brother. Tbe five years passed—five years of dust and clinking in tbe yard—of darkness, muttering, low, smothered heert-buruiug ia the cell. At last, one morning, tbe warden threw open my door, audI passed out with the low lock-step which 1 had been pructicing nearly tbe quarter of a lifetime. 1 was going to cbapel with the rest—to hear of tbe Prudigal Son and the Magdalen—they the guilty, but the wel omed—I the innocent, yet the thrust out. But the officer Hopped me with these three words: "You »re free I" did pet cheer, nor wring the man's fcepd. por even sail*. One^grows used to forget these ways ol *e ftfe* tceu years iu priaqa, a fvM Wi lU i« Vc AM Bat the reveage which, little by little, had stretched its fibroas roots through the soil of my heart till every drop of life-joioe went to nourish tbe plant, now began to put forth its blossoms, and I felt them bud into an ecstatic, poisonous fragrance. My sweet, long-hoped-for hour bad come I In a few moments more the despised con vie I weat to the prison wardrobe aad got back that dress which, iu days long gone, 1 had put off with the rest of my humani ty. They were clean, fastidious, gentle •sea-like as when I left them. I seemed for a moment, at their sight,-to be waking from the terrible eternity of a bad dream 0 be fiadiag them folded by my bed side, when they had lain only since the last night. I had eome in with the majesty of the law—a guard on either side. I went out alone—no daager wae apprehended of my escapiag from that other prison—the world. Lenving tbe high gruy walls be hind an, I struck into the road for Hart fofd. Had I come out five years before I might have been expressly softened by the long, unwonted music of tbe birda that, from trees and orchard walls, made the air foil of their joy. Now I bad lived past the time when suh things could touch me, and walked still in the lock step, looking neither about nor forward, bat ever moodily on the ground. And thus, late in the afternoon, I came whither the commencement of my recitAl finds me, and stood in tbe market-place of the town which I had last seen fade out behind me as 1 went away in scorn. No wonder that by all tbe passers I was stared at as an oddity—something to be suspected and shrunk from—for my griz zled hair was of tbe prison cut, my cloth MIL' had gone out of fashion when the lathers in the street were children, aad not by fear but long use, I looked no man in the face. And here and there in knots the people whispered about me, sometimes with evident carelessness as to bow loud. Bm I only nor-ed a deeper and more qui et wrath. There came along that way a throng of children just from school. Stepping up to one of them, I asked, "Dees George Markham still live in this place?" The I'ttla girl turned up a sunny spring morn ing face and answered, "I am bis daugh ter. sir do son wish to see him A hellish thought suggested itself to me. I «nid, -'Yes, you may show me the way to his bouse." I knew we should take a cross-path over the fields and past a lone reach of lonely woods. In the most solitary part of that I might wreak upon tbe guilty head of George Markham the most terrible vengeance which could wipe out his m'Mt bitter wrong to me. I would kill bis child and brio? ber home to him, confessing that I did it. and glo ryipg in tbe end of that most horrid game of quoits on which he had staked my bca veu and lot it. The little maiden took my Jjppil 'confi dingly. That might unnerve me ao I losed it, a .id I told her to go before while 1 followed. She tossed back her curls and went houiidiug ahead at a rate my strides were hardly equal to. Stiil 1 Kept my eye upon her. After a while we came into a low brook-couree between two hills, over the foremost one of wbicb I could just see the chimneys of my brother's house. I looked about me—no one was in sight— rescue was impossible. The devil whis pered, "Now 1" Then I called her t3 stop, saying I must look for something I bad dropped. She obeyed, and stood amusing herself makiag wreaths with the violets which grew by tbe water course, while I stopped to find a heavy stone which might do my bidding of vengeance surely and silently. All around me in the bed of the brook were nothing but pebbles. I walk ed a few stepe further down in my quest Tbe litte girl must have thought me leav ing her, for, all at oaee, 1 beard ber call, gently, "I am waiting for you Gracious God I Who spoke Do the lovtid that are forever lost cry to us out of Paradise? *'I am waiting for you I'' float ed down through the prison bars from her whom the father had just numbered with the saints. 1 stood up aad wandered hack, more dreaming than awake, to tha spot where George Mark baa's daughter still staid plaitiag violets. 8he tamed to me with a smile and said, "I did not mean to hurry you, sir, but my father is very unwell, and 1 ought to be at home. Will yea please tell aw how late it is For the first time after these fifteen prison years, in which, knowing toil and darkness only, I bad asked no other mea .suremeat of time, I mechanically put my liand to my breast and drew out my re stored watch. Waa I aane The second band, stopped at the last kiss of agony given mo by my beloved, whether by mir aele or the agitation of my graep, I kaow not, suddenly moved on. Like a lightning imsb luahed vii ne the memory of my vow —"Till ws meet ibis watch shall never const time agaia." Yes we bad met—met ia thai voice of quiet waiting.—met in'this wondrous omen of the watnh—met when I knew not— when she was ansa by none but Uod and her sister angels. -And tbe wrathful em ben weal out ia tbt hftMt of Joha Mark, HDIFMPIMT DEMOCRATIC JOTTEJAL. ham, aa4, viewlessly hovering over him, the long cherished dead smiled blissfully as she saw that in that moment there had entered into him a new soul. I clasped the little one in my anas. I told her that ber father was my oaly broth er, aad then pelted humbly to See her re coil from the loathsoms convict. But with childlike joy she bogged me closer around tbe neck, and cried, Oh I am so glad I should burst open bis motley chrysalis, and be rushing like a winged Nemeeis to set tle acoounte With tbe world wbieb had tbe start of bim by fifteen years. I I am so glad 1 Poor papa has been talking about yen these four days, and saying—but oh, he must not diet—-'I can not die till John comes home."* With a reverent step, and bowing low, I MM into tha room of my dying broth er. His pale face flushed and paled again as he saw me, and then biding it in the pillow be cried, Look not on me I God is wreaking his wrath on the devil who wasted your life!" Not so, my brother," I answered, sol emnly I from my soul forgive yon.— How much more shall lie who pitieth bis children? For me, He hath this day wiped oot the past like a tablet and look ing up to Him as both of ns condemned in His sight, let us join hearts, making no difference. My brother 1" I held him on my breast through the waxing and the waning of that strange night—my first night of liberty—my first night with the new soul. And be sorrow ed with the sorrowing that needeth no re pentance. With a kiss which brought I tack the days of our childhood, at dawn his spirit departed from me. Then, beside tbe little girl who had fallen asleep from weariness, I laid him who slept the calmer sleep—the sleep of calmness and pence. The day came for the reading of the will. Relatives, friends, neighbors, were all collected in the parlor, where my dead brother used to sit, pining remorsefully through the long evenings with his moth erlesa child. Yet tbey ail sat apart from tbe returned convict, looking at me with an evil eye. But I bore it meekly, with little Roae, in ber mourning dress, nestled against my breast, as if I were the last thing she bad on earth to cling to. Tbe lawyer opened the will and began: In the name of God. Amen. I, George Markhn m, banker of Hartford, being of feeble body, but of sound and disposing mind aad memory, do hereby constitute this my laat will and testament. "I bequeath my soul to tbe infinite mercy of God, if it be possible. I bequeath my name to the oblivion of all true men who shall know the truth. That I be queath to my brother, John Markham, oot of bounty, bat of immeasurable indebt edness, in my confession that 1 alone, and unaided, am the author of that damnable sin which brought the shadow of a prison, the lots of all things on his innocent head. And finally, I give and devise to John Markham all my estate, both real and personal, to have and lo hold, to him, his heirs and assigns, forever, confident that he will so far have mercy on my guilt as to be in all thiugs a father to my only child Then, like the friends of Job, my ac quaintance came back to me. beholding how 1 was prospered. Again 1 stood an upright man in tbe face of earth as well as heaven, and uone uttered au ill whisper of me. Now I live alone with Rose, who has filled the place of tbe daughter I miirbt have had but ftr the fifieeu years. She is my child, my companion, my comforter, my pupil. And never on earth will 1 bring any other love between us, for at night, a ben I look up iuto tbe stars, 1 bear a low voice saying, I am waiting for John Markham I" •wceesa she Itusi Flaw. Tbe State Board of Agriculture of Il linois, offered a'premium of $3,000 for a steam plow. It was expected that three different inventions would be exhibited and tested at tbe State ?air, bat only one was on the ground. That was Fawke's locomotive steam plow, from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, which excited great intereat among the prairie formers, and performed well. The machine and apparatus, with fuel and water, weigh only seven Ions, and by the ase of a drum or barrel-shaped driver, for propelling the locomotive, the difficulty of miring on soft soil and slip ping on hard, smooth grouad is overcome. Tbe steam plow is easily managed, and is described as a locomotive and tender, combining the eaeential elements of both, mounted on two guiding wheels and a huge roller. The prairie ground on which it was tried was baked as hard nearly as brick, but the engine turned six furrows side by side in tbe most workman-like manner. The excitement of the crowd was beyond control, and their shouts aad wild huzzas echoed far over tbe prairie.— i'/iil. Ledger. 19" "Do you believe in a second love, Mr. MoRuarde V "Do I belave ia the second love, is it? lfsasn buys a pound of sugar, isn't it swate? and when it is gone, don't he want another pound, and ain't that swate too Troth, Murphy, I belave in second love." 0 An exchange tells of an sditor who want soldiering aad was chosen "Cap tain," Oae day, on parade, instead of giving the orders, "front fkee, three paces for ward," he exclaimed: "Cash twe dollars a year, ia advance." SIOUX CITY, IOWA, NOVEMBER 18,1858. NO. 18. Vise lavsl BspatHtlwa t* Psrsaasir Tkt DiatcwltUs. A correspondent of the New York Jour nal of Commerce, who appears to under stand the subject, thus detaila tbe difficul ties to be encountered by the United States forces in carrying out the views of our govsrnment by the iateaded expeditioa to Paraguay: Much bas been written lately in regard to a naval expedition, which is shortly to leave our shores for the purpose of enfor cing the just demands ef tbe United Stales against the Republic of Paraguay. One would suppose from the articles published in the newspapers, that this Par aguay expedition was to be a sort of a holiday excursion, and that all tbe Mos quito fleet had to do was to steam up tbe river to the capital of Paraguay, and batter down a fort or two. Now, it is a* well to state what this expeditioa will really have to encounter, in case Lopes refuses to ac cede to the demands which will be made by the United States through Judge Bow lin. So far from Preeident Lopes haviag tbe most remote idea of acceding to these demands, it is thought, by those who ought to know, that Judge Bowlin will not be allowed to enter Paraguay territory, but will be received at the extreme southern limits of the republic, and sent back from whence he came. There is little probability that Lopez will permit a steamer to ascend the river, and thereby give those on board an opportuni ty to view his means of defence and even should he be ever so willing, it is not like ly that he will remove the obstructions which will be placed in the river before Judge B.'s arrival. The river will be ex tensively boomed and chained. Extensive earth works are being constuited, it is well known, along both banks of the river, and before renching Assumption the fleet (sup posing them able to remove the obstruc tions in the river and dismantle the earth work batteries) will have to silence a fort or redoubt mounting forty heavy guns.— In approaching this redoubt, the fleet of steamers will receive a raking fire for the distance of half a mile. This redoubt is placed on an elevation about 60 feet above the level of the river. Suppose, then, the possibility of passing the above redoubt, the Musquito fleet bas nothing more to do but to reduce a fort a short distance south of Assumption, that mounts sixty-four guns, 42-pounder*. This fort is also on an elevated ground, being one hundred feet above the level of the river. Opposite this fort there are two channels, one along either embankment, there being a shoal in the middle of the river and the Amer ican vessels being in the channel on the opposite side from the fort, will not be able, through the narrowness of the river, to bring their guns to bear, as too great an elevation will be required. To remove tbe above defences, tbe Uni ted States send a few steamers which are to tow rafts up the river, on which rafts guns of heavy calibre are to be placed, and the men who work the guns will be exposed to the swarins of rifiercen who swarm the river. Paraguay can easily raise 35,000 men, who are far auperiof to Mexican troops. Tbe American expedi tion can land 1,200 men, out of which but 3(H) men are diaciplined soldiers, and these are the marines. To reduce the redoubts and forts aluded to, it will be necessary to carry them by land, and to do so, a large infantry and artillery force will be neces sary. At last 4,000 men will be required with a proper siege train. The expert ness of the mounted Paraguayans with the lasso is well known, and as cavalry they are very formidable. In case the expedition foils, as it is almost sure to do, unless properly reinforced, it cannot be said that proper care was not taken in the organization of the force, as we have all read a great deal about the care with which tbe expedition waa being organized, par ticularly in the selection of officers, and it will be a great pity to have the expedition fail for want of iufantry soldiers. This cannot be a naval battle, but a etruggle on land, 600 miles from tbe ocean. Pltusal The following ludicrous scene took place in a New York Marine Court, between two members of the bar, the oae rather fat, and the other rather small: Brother Fat (to the Court)—"I doa't care what Mr. says ha is only a musquito, and I don't mind the sting." Brother Small—"I beg your pardon, Mr. but it is a fact in natural history that musquitoee never sting hogs." Brother Fat—"Is it ao, Mr. Then you had better inform your acquaintances of it they'll be glad to hear of it." Brother Small—" Allow me then, Mr. to communicate the faet to you, among the first.'' Here the Court, amid a roar of laughter called the gentlemen to order. Speaking of lions, that waa quite an idea of the bard-ahell preacher, who was discoursing of Dnniel in tht^'den of lions: There he sat all nigbt, looking at the show for nothing it didn't eost him a red, We onoe heard of a Kentuckian, whose amazing strength was attended with very fatal consequences. He was cutting a slice of bread and butter, when the knife slipped, aad cut hptelf w half aa4 taw man behind bin. V Wats AwMle. What a splendid paragraph is the fol lowing from the Autocrat of the Breakfast Table in the Atlautic Monthly. Read it twice, if yi don't get the sense of it." Read it twice any way. It will pay I don't know anything eweeter than this leaking in of nature through all tbe cracks in the walls and floors of the cities. You heap up a million tons of hewa rock on a equate mile or two of earth which was green ence. The treea look down from the hill side and ask each other as they stand on tiptoe—" What are these people about And the small herbs at tbeir feet look ap and whisper hack, We will go and see.' So the small herbs pack themselves up in the smallest bundles, and wait until the wind steals to them at night and whispers,—Come with me,'—then they go softly with it iuto the great city,—one to a cleft in the pavement, one to sprout on the roof, one to a ssam in the marble over a rich gentlemaa's bones, and oae to the grave without a stene where nothing but man is buried,—and there they grow, looking down on the generations|of men from mouldy roofs, looking up from bs« neatb the less troddrn pavements, looking up through iron cemetery railings. Listen to them, when there is only a light breath stirring, aud you will hear them say to each other,—'Wait awhile.' The words run along the telegraph of those Barrow green lines that border the roads leading from the city until they reach the slope of the hills, and tbe treea repeat to each other,— 'Wait a while.' By and by the flower of life in the street ebbs, and tbe old leafy in habitants—the smaller tribes always in front—saunter in one by one, verycarcless seemingly, but very tenacious, until they swarm so that the great stones gape from each other with tbe crowding of their roots and the feld-spar begins to be picked out of the granite to find them food. At last the trees take up their solemn line of march and never rest autil they have encamped in tbe market place. Wait long enough and you will find an old doting oak hugg inga huge worn block in its yellow under ground arms that was tbe corner stone of the state house. Oh, so patient she is, this imperturable nature." Cmt the Tarke. Here is a whole volume concerning the customs, manner and habits of the Turks, contained iu a single paragraph: "The Turks abhor tbe hat: but uncovering the head, which, with »s, is an expression of respect, is considered by them disrespect ful and indecent no offence ia given by keeping on a hat in a mosque, but shoes must be lsft on tbe threshold the slipper and not the turban must be removed in to ken of respect. Tbe Turks turn in their toes they write from right to left they mount on the right side of the horse they follow their guests into a room, and pre cede them on leaving it the left hand is the place of honor tbey do tbe honors ef a table by aerving themselves first they are great smokers and coffee drinkers: tbey take the wall and walk hastily in token ot respect they beckon by throwing back the hand, instead of throwing it toward tbem they cut the hair from the head tbey re move it from the body, but leave it on tbe chin they sleep in their clothes tbey look upon beheadiag as a more disgraceful pun ishment than strangliug tbey deem our short and close dresses indecent our sha ven chins a mark of effeminacy and servi tude tbey resent an inquiry after tbeir wives as an insult they commeuce their wooden houses at the top. and their up per apartmcuts are frequently finished be fore tbe lower ones are closed in they es chew pork as an abomination tbey regard dancing as a theatrical performance, only to be looked at, and not mingled in except by slaves their mourning habit is white their sacred color green tbeir Sabbath day is Friday and interments follow immedi ately after tbe death. The deaths of the women axe not registered—Those of ths men are. Marriages are regiatered, aad with the marriage the woaian is virtaally struck from existeaee. sa for as govern ment is concerned. She is aot known offi cially to ths government of Turkey. Her "lord" or husband, does with her as plea, see him best. ttT Mrs. Speckles says the best vege table pill yet invented is aa appladamp ling: for destroying a gnawing at tha stomach, it is a pill whieh may always be relied upon. 1^ An old gentlemaa says that he is the last man ia the world that would ty» ranize over hia daughter'a affections. So long as she marries tbe man of his choice, he don't care who she loves. 19" A poor widow was asked how she became so much attached to a certain neighbor, and replied that she was bound to him by several cords of wood which he bad aeat her during a very hard winter. "The only liberty cap," says a clever and witty author, ia a night oap. In it men visit, one-third of their lives, the land of sleep—the only land where they are always free and equal." I am afraid," aaid a person ef questionable or unquestionable habits, that I am liksly to have water upoa the brain." You will never have it upon the stomach," was his """MUrrfl'l aelatery reply. HOLM—M.00, ZVTAKIABLT IV AOTAVCX. A lleepjr Daaaaa. Then are timss aad seasons when sleep is never appropriate, aad with these may be classed the sleep of the good old Cia cinnati deacon. The deaoon was tbe owner and overseer of a large pork-paoking establishment.— His duty was to stand at tbe bead of the scalding trough, watch in hand, to "time" tbe length of the scald, crying "Hog ial" when the just slaughtered hog was to bo thrown into the trough, and "Hog ont!" when the watch told three minutes. One week the press of business compelled tha packers to unusually hard labor, and Set arday night found the deacon completely exhaeated. Indeed, he was almost sick the uext morning, when church time came but e was a leading member, and it was his duty lo attend the usual Sabbath ser vice, if he could. He went. Tbe occasion was one of unusual solemnity, as a revival was in progress. The minister preached a sermon well calculated for effect. His peroration was a climax of great beaaty. Assuming the attitude of one intently lis tening, he recited to the breathless audito «7s "But, thy spirit Aof*l« «»j—" "Hoo Iv I" came from the deacon's pewia a steatorian voice. Tbe astonished audi ence turned their attention from the preach er. He went on, however, unmoved- "BltUr spirit, com* awsyl" "Hoo OCT!" shouted the deacon, "TALLY Foua." This was too much for the preacher and audience. The latter smiled, some snick ered audibly, while a few boys broke tit tbe door, to "split their sides" laughing, outside, within full hearing. The preach er was disconcerted entirely— sat down— aross again—pronounced a brief benedic tion, and dismissed the anything else than solemn-minded bearers. The deacon soon came to a realizing sense of his uncon scious interlude, for his brethreu repriman ded him severely while "the boys" caught the infection of tbe joke, and every possi ble occasion afforded tbem an opportune t? to say "Hon IN!" Hoo OUT I" IOU Doctors are very wise men, some times. This fact is fully illustrated by the following from tbe New Bedford Mer cury In a certain flourishing village down eastward, where flourishes a literary in stitution, a gentleman took one of a family of infant puppies, aud gaining entrance into a neighbor's bouse before the folks were wide awake enough to know what he was about, chucked the little creature among a litter of kittens of like tender age. PURS made no distinction between the stranger and her own offspring, and be on his part took kindly and confidingly to his new nurse. Great was the astouUb mout of the household when it was dis covered (as tbey supposed) that their cat was the dam of a puppy. Tbe news of so portentious a birth spread over town like wild-fire. People came iu flock9 to see the sight. Tbe fortunate possessor was offered five dollars for the little monster, but de clared he would not part with it for five hundred. That tbe case might not fail of due authenticity, two physicians, of the first respectability, were summoned to in spect and report upon it. Tbey jointly and severally scrutinized the animal, and found that it was certainly a puppy, hav ing all the characteristics of tbe dog race, except the pate*. Those were pronounced to resemble cat's olaws. Tbe perpetrator of the joke couldn't hold in any longer.— The cat was out of the bag in a twinkling, and if the doctors outlive the memory of tbeir essay on comparative zoology, they will be more lucky than most victims of sell. Under tbe bead of "organized ham buggery," some of our New York exchan ges notice the fact that the Spiritualists are about to establish in Chautauque coun* ty, in that State, a society where they will carry on all forms of vice and licentious ness under "highfalutin" names. They have purchased 200 acres of land on which they mean to locate their colony. I^In the ease of Captain Holmes oa trial at Portland for killing one of his crew tha defense of insauity has been set up.-* Ia the evening after killing Chadwick, a witness testified that he waa "raving, swear ing, kicking and damning everything aa inch high and a minute old." A Maine editor says that a pump- kia in that State grew so largs that eight men could stand around it. This is like the fellow who saw a flock of pigeons so low that he could shake a stiok at them. 1^. It is the great law of Nature, thai whosoever shuts his heart to the sym pathies of humnuity, shuts it at the same time against ths ingress of all happy ia fluences. 1^. Why had a man betterjose an arm than a leg Because, losing his leg, hs loses some thing to boot." a A divias once praying, add, Oh Lord, give us neither poverty nor riches," and pausing for a momeat, hs addsd, 'ea pooially not poverty." I*. A Nebraska paper gets off the fol lowing: Why is a Nebraska shin plaster like aa impenitent sinner? Because Ik fetefet kao*thal ill redeemer Urcth.