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The Georgetown news. (Georgetown, El Dorado County, Cal.) 1855-1856, November 22, 1855, Image 1

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VOL. 11.
r>latt d? Shaw.
Office, Main St., nearly opposite Masonic Hall.
For one year $5 00
For six months 3 00
For three months 2 00
Rates of Advertising.
For first insertion of 1 square, or 10 lines. .$3 00
For each subsequent insertion 1 50
Liberal deductions for quarterly advertisements.
P RODGER, J. C. Manufacturer of all kinds
of Jewelry, Maiden Lane, Georgetown, two
doors south of J. J. Lewis’ Bowling Saloon.
November Ist, 1855. [2-tf.
G-raliam rfJ 00.,
Dealers in Groceries, Provisions , Cigars, Li
quors, S,-c.
The highest price paid at all times for Gold Dust.
Bottle Hill, April 23d, 1855. [2B-tf
Justice of tile Peace.
OFFICE on Church st.. head of Maiden Lane,
one door south of Bollen A Ritter's Gun and
Blacksmith establishment. Office open every day
of the week from 9 to 4 o’clock; Sunday exepted.
Georgetown, May 24th, 1855. [32-tf.
Win.. Ewing,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law.
Office at Lower Johntown, El Dorado Co., Cal.
November 12th, 1855. [3-4t*
DR. *.000, DR. M, J., late of Johntown, would
inform the citizens of Bottle Hill that hav
ing permanently located in that place, he would
respectfully tender to them his professional ser
vices as Surgeon and Physician.
Bottle Hill, Dec. 15 1854. 9-tf
AY, DR. F. G., Main street, Georgetown.—
Office opposite Adams & Co.
Oct. 26, 2-tf
WELLS, FARGO & CO., Express Agents,
Gold Dnst Shippers,and Bankers, George
town. [See advertisement.] 2-tf
x. o. of o. r*.
j Memento Lodge, No. 37, Institu-
March 22nd, 1855. Meets on
Thursday of each week, at the Ma
sonic Hall, at 7 o’clock, P. M.
Transient Brothers, in good standing, are cor
dially invited to attend.
J. J. LEWTB. N. G.
E. Knox, Sec’y.
t\ S. of T. —Georgetown Division, No. 42,
> r Sons of Temperance, meets every Tues
day evening, at 7 o’clock, in their Hall
on Main street, Georgetown.
All brethren in good standing are invited to at
tend. WM. T. GIBBS, W. P.
J. T. Noel, R. S.
Divine Worship.
Rev. DAVID McCLURE, of the Presbytery of
San Francisco, preaches every Sabbath morning
and evening in the Town Hall, Georgetown. Ser
vices commencing at 10i o'clock A. M., and 8
P. M. Also, every Sabbath afternoon at Bottle
Hill, at 3 o’clock. Prayer meeting at the Par
sonage on Wednesday evenings.
Public Worship.
There will be preaching at the Town Hall,
every Thursday evening, at 7 o’clock, P. M.; al
'o upon every other Sabbath, 3 at o'clock, P. M.
bv Rev. R. R. Bkookshier, of the Methodist E
piscppal Church South.
Public Worship. —At the School House,
Georgetown. Regular appointments of Rev. Jno.
SHARP, of M. E. Church, A. M. aud 7 P. M.,
■very Sabbath. Occasional supplies by other
Ministers. Prayer meetings, Wednesday even
ngs at 7P. M. Sabbath School 9] A. M.
California Stage
Company Notice.
STAGES for Sacramento City,
leave the “Nevada House," f■V.'-L'-
Georgetown, every morning, at three o'clock, A.
’L, and the “ Buckeye Exchange,” Greenwood
Valley, at four o’clock, A. M., arriving in Sacra
mento in time to connect with the steamboats for
San Francisco.
J. HAWORTH, Pies. Gal. S. Co.
Per M. A. MERCHANT, Agent.
March 28th, 1855. [24-tf.
Stage Lino
THE subscriber having extended his Line to
Bottle Hill, will run a four-horse coach dai
ly between the above places, via of Georgetown
and Johntown.
Leaving Battle Hill at 6£ o'clock A. M., arriv
ing at Coloma at 10 o’clock A. M.
Returning, will leave Coloma at 3 o'clock, P
M., arriving at Bottle Hill at 6 o’clock P. M.
Having run a line of stages for the past twe
years and a half between Georgetown and Colo
rna , the undersigned feels confident that in ex
tending his line to Bottle Hill, he can offer such
accommodations as to merit the patronage of the
June 27th, 1855. [37-tf.
Books & Stationery.
A Literary Depot, is opened by the unde
A. signed, on Main Street, Bottle Hill, at whic
every variety, and of the latest date, can be hi
npou application.
Bottle Hill, April 18th, 1855. [27-tf.
TL’hxing LATHE. —The undersigned
leave to inform the citizens of Grorge
ffiat he is prepared to do all kinds of Tumi
best manner and at the shortest notice.
««orgetown, Oct 19, 1854.
Tile Height of the Ridiculous.
I wrote some lines once on a time,
In wondrous merry mood,
An thought, as usual, men would say
They were exceeding good.
They were so queer, so very queer,
I laughed as I would die;
Albeit in the general way,
A sober man am I.
I called my servant, and he came;
How kind it was of him,
To mind a slender man like me,
He of the mighty limb!
“These to the printer,” I exclaimed,
And in my humorous way,
I added, (as a trifling jest,)
“There’ll be the devil to pay.’’
He took the paper, and I watched.
And saw him peep within;
At thetirst line he read, his face
Was all upon the grin.
He read the next; the grin grew broad,
And shot from ear to ear;
He read the third; a chuckling noise
I now began to hear.
The fourth; lie broke into a roar;
The fifth; bis waistband split;
The sixth; he burst five buttons off,
And tumbled in a lit.
Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye,
I watched that wretched man,
And since, 1 never dare to write
As funny as I can.
An Unexpected Hate.
In one of the large towns of "Worcester
county, Massachusetts, used to live a cler
gyman whom we will call Ridewell. He
was of the Baptist persuasion, and very
rigid in his ideas of moral propriety. He
had in his employ an old negro named Pom
pey, and if this latter individual was not so
strict in his morals as his master, he was at
least a very cunning dog, and passed in the
reverend household for a pattern of propri
ety. Fompey was a useful servant, and the
old clergyman never hesitated to trust him
with the most important business. Now it
so happened that there were dwelling in
and about the town, sundry individuals who
had not the fear of the dreadful penalties
which Mr. Ridewell preached, about their
eyes, for it was the wont of these people to
congregate on Sabbath evenings upon a
level piece of land in the outskirts of the
town, and there race horses. This spot was
hidden from view by a dense piece of woods,
and for a long while the Sunday evening
races were carried on there without detec
tion by the officers, or others who might
have stopped them. It also happened that
the good old clergyman owned one of the
best horses in the country. This horse was
one of the old Morgan stock, with a mix
ture of Arabian blood in his veins, and it
was generally known that few beasts could
pass him on the road. Mr. Ridewell, with
a dignity becoming his calling, stoutly de
clared that the tleetness of his horse never
afforded him any gratification, and that for
his own part he would as lief have any
other. Yet money could not buy his Mor
gan, nor could any amount of argument per
suade him to swap. The Church was so
near the good clergyman’s dwelling that he
always walked to meeting, and his horse
was consequently allowed to remain in pas
Fompey discovered that these races were
on the tapis, and he resolved to enter his
master’s horse on his own account, for he
felt assured that old Morgan could beat
anything in the shape of horseflesh that co'd
be procured in that quarter. So on the
very next Sunday evening he had the bridle
under his jacket, went out into the pasture
and caught the horse, and then rode off to
ward the spot where the wicked ones were
congregated. Here he found some dozen
assembled, and the race about to commence.
Fompey mounted his beast, and at a signal
he started. Uhl Morgan entered into the
spirit of the thing, and came out two rods
ahead of everything. Fompey won quite
a pile, and before dark he was well initiated
in horse-racing.
Fompey succeeded in getting home with
out exciting any suspicions, and he now
longed for the Sabbath afternoon to come,
for he was determined to try it again. He
did so, and again he won; and this course of
wickedness he followed up for two months,
making his appearance upon the racing
ground every Sunday afternoon as soon as
he could after “meeting was out.” And
during that time Fompey was not the only
one that loved racing. No, for old Morgan
himself had come to love the excitement of
the thing too, and his every motion when
upon the track showed how zealously he en
tered into the spirit of the game. But these
tilings were not always to remain a secret.
One Sunday a pious deacon beheld this ra
cing from a distance, and straightway went
to the parson with the alarming intelli
gence. the Rev. Mr. Ridewell was utterly
shocked. His moral feelings were outraged,
and he resolved to put a stop to this wick
edness. During the week he made several
inquiries, and he learned that this thing had
been practiced all summer on every °Sab
bath afternoon. He made his parishioners
keep quiet, and on the next Sunday he
would make his appearance on the very
spot and catch them in their deeds of in
iquity. On the following Sabbath, after
dinner, Mr. Ridewell ordered Fompey to
bring up old Morgan and put him in the
stable. The order was obeyed, though not
without misgivings on the part of the faith
ful negro. As soon as the afternoon servi
ces were closed, the two deacons and some
others of the members of the church accom
panied the minister] home, together with
their horses.
“It is the most flagrant piece of irreligion
that ever came to my knowledge,” said the
indignant clergyman.
“Horse-racing on the Sabbath,” uttered
a deacon.
“Dreadful,” echoed a second deacon.
And so the conversation went on until
they reached the top of a gentle eminence
which overlooked the plain where the ra
cing was carried on, and where some dozen
horsemen, with a score of lookers-on, were
assembled. The sight was one that chilled
the good parson to his soul. He remained
motionless until he had made out the whole
alarming truth; then turning to his compan
ions he said:
“Now, my brothers, let us ride down and
confront the wicked wretches, and if they
will down on their knees and implore God's
mercy, and promise to do so no more, we
will not take legal action against them.—
Oh that my own land should be desecrated
thus!” for it was indeed a portion of his
own farm.
As the good clergyman thus spoke he
started on towards the scene. The horses
were drawing up for a start as the minister
approached, and some of the riders at once
recognized “old Morgan,” though they did
not recognize the individual who rode him.
“\V icked men!” commenced the parson,
as he came near enough for his voice to be
heard, “children of sin and shame—”
“Como on, old hos,” cried one of the
jockies, turning towards the minister. “If
you are in for the first race you must stir
your stumps.”
“Alas 1 O my wicked—”
“All ready!” shouted he who led the af
fair, cutting the minister short, and the
word for starting was given.
Old Morgan knew that word too well,
for no sooner did it fall upon his cars, than
he stuck out his nose, and with one wild
snort he started, and the rest of the racers,
twelve in number, kept him company.
“Who-o-o-h-o-o! who-o-o!” yelled the cler
gyman, tugging at the reins” with all his
But it was of no avail. Old Morgan had
now reached ahead of all competitors, and
he came up to the judges’ stand three rods
ahead, where the petrified deacons were
standing with eyes and mouth wide open.
“Don't stop,” shouted one of the judges,
who now recognized Parson Bidewell, and
suspected his business, and who knew the
secret of old Morgan's joining the race.—
“Don’t stop,” he shouted again; “its a two
mile heat this time. Keep right on, par
son. You're good for another mile.—
Now you go—and off it is.”
These last words were of course known
to the horse, and no sooner did Morgan hear
them than he stuck his nose out, and again
started off. The poor parson did his ut
most to stop the bewitched animal, but it
could not be done. The more he struggled
and yelled the faster the animal went, and
ere many moments lie was again at the
starting point, where Morgan now slopped
of his own accord. There was a hurried
whispering among the jockeys, and a suc
cession of very curious winks and knowing
nods seemed to indicate that they under
“Upon my soul, parson,” said one of
them, approaching the spot where the min
ister still sat in his saddle, he having not
yet sufficiently recovered his presence of
mind to dismount, “yon ride well, parson.
We had not looked for this honor.”
“Honor, sir!” gasped Bidewell, looking
into the speaker’s face.
“Aye—for it is an honor. You arc the
first clergyman that has ever joined us in
our Sabbath evening entertainments.”
“T—l, sir! I joined you?”
“Hal ha! ha! Oh, you did it well.—
Your good deacons really think you were
trying very hard to hold in your horse, but
I saw through it. I saw how slyly you put
your horse up. But I don't blame you for
feeling proud of old Morgan, for I should
feel so myself if I owned him. But you
need not fear; 1 will tell all who may ask
me about it, that you did your best to stop
your beast, for I would rather stretch the
truth a little than have such a jockey us
you suffer.” This had been spoken so loud
ly that the deacons had heard every word,
and the poor parson was bewildered; but he
came to himself, and with a flashing eye he
“Villains, what mean vou? why do you
“Hold on,” interrupted one of the party,
and as he spoke the rest of the racing men
had all mounted their horses; “hold on a
moment, parson; wo arc all willing to allow
you to carry off the palm, but we won't
stand your abuse. When we heard that
you had determined to try if your horse
would not beat us all, we agreed among
ourselves that if yon came we would let you
iu. We have done so, and you have won
the race in a two mile heat. Now let that
satisfy you. By the hokey, you did it well.
When you want to try it again, just send
us word and we’ll be ready for you. Good
As the jockey thus spoke, he turned his
horse’s head, and before the astounded
preacher could utter a word, the whole par
ty had ridden away out of hearing. It was
some time before one of the churchmen
could speak. They knew uot what to say.
Why should their minister's horse have
joined in the race without some permission
from his master? They knew how much he
valued theauimal; and at length they shook
their heads with doubt.
“It’s very strange,” said one.
“ Very,” answered the second.
“Remarkably,” suggested the third.
"On my soul, brethren,” spoke Ridewell.
“I can t make it out.”
The brethren looked at each other, and
the deacons shook their heads in a very sol
emn and impressive manner.
So the party rode back to the clcnry
man s house, but none of the brethren would
enter, nor would they stop at all. Before
Monday had drawn to a close, it was gen
erally known that Parson Ridcwcll raced
his horse on the Sabbath, and a meeting of
the church was appointed lor Thurscay.
Poor Kidewell was almost crazv with
vexation. But bclore Thursday came. Pom
pey found out how matters stood, and he
assured his master that he could clear the
matter up, and after a day's search lie dis
covered the astounding fact that some of
those wicked men had been in the habit of
stealing old Morgan from the pasture and
racing him on Sabbath afternoon. Pora
pey found out this much — but could not
find out U'ho did it!
As soon as this became known to the
church, the members conferred together,
and they soon concluded that under such
circumstances a high mettled horse would
bo apt to run away with Ids rider when he
found himself directly upon the track.
So parson Kidewell was cleared, but it
was a long while before he got over the
blow, for many were the wicked wags who
delighted to hector him by offering to "ride
a race” with him, to "bet on his head,” to
“put him against the world” on a race.—
But as Kidewell grew older, his heart grew
warmer, and finally he could laugh with
right good will when he spoke of his unex
pected race.
Thk Grave of Franklin. —Great and
wide-spread as is the fame of the •Printer
Philosopher,’ and proud as the people of
Philadelphia are of their illustrious towns
man, we doubt much if one in a hundred of
the present generation of Philadelphians
have ever seen his tomb. Thousands pass
daily within a few feet of the spot where his
ashes, and those of his wife, repose, without
being conscious of the fact, or, if aware of
it, unable to obtain a glimpse of the grave.
The bones of the lightning-tamer lie within
a very short distance of Arch street, in the
north-west corner of Christ Church grave
yard, at fifth and Arch streets. As is gen
erally known, the spot is marked by a slab
of marble, which is almost level with the
earth, and which bears the simple inscrip
tion, “Benjamin and Deborah Franklin.”
If the wall at this point were removed, and
a neat iron railing erected in its stead, ev
ery passer-by would be afforded the gratifi
cation of seeing the grave; a gratification
now very difficult to obtain, in a Phila
delphia newspaper, published in 1 )ecember,
A. D., 1774, we find the following notice of
the death of Mrs. Franklin:—“On Monday,
the nineteenth instant, died, at an advanced
age, Mrs. Deborah Franklin, wile of Dr. j
Benjamin Franklin; and on the Thursday
following her remains were interred in the
Christ Church burying-ground.” The an
nouncement of the death and burial of Mrs.
Franklin was as simple and unostentatious
as the slab and its pithy inscription, which
marks her final resting place.
[Phil. Bulletin.
Proof that the Moon is not Inhabited.
—Dr. Scores!>y, in an account that he has
given of some recent observations made
with the Earl of Boss’s telescope, says:—
“With respect to the moon, every object on
its surface of 100 feet was now distinctly to
be seen; and he had no doubt, that under
very favorable circumstances, it would be so
with objects GO feet in height. On its sur
face were craters of extinct volcanos, rocks
and massess of stones almost innumerable.
He had no doubt that if such a building as
he was then in were upon the surface of the 1
moon, it would be rendered distinctly visi
ble by these instruments. But there were
no signs of habitations such as ours—no
vestiges of architecture remain to show that
the moon is or ever was inhabited by a race
ol mortals similar to ourselves, It present
ed no appearance which could lead to the
supposition that it contained anything like
the green fields and lovely verdure of this
beautiful world of ours. There was no wa
ter visible—not a sea or a river, or even the
measure of a reservoir for supplying town
or factory—all seemed desolate.”
The Poor Boy’s College. — The print
ing ollice has indeed proved a better college
to many a poor boy—has graduated more
useful and conspicuous members of society
—has brought more intellect and turned it
into practical, useful channels—awakened
more mind—generated more active and ele
vated thought, than many of the literary
colleges of the country. J low many a dunce
has passed through these colleges with no
tangible proof of fitness, other than his in
animate piece of parchment; himself, if pos
sible, more inanimate than his leather di
ploma I There is something in the very
atmosphere of a printing office calculated to
awaken the mind and inspire a thirst for
knowledge. A boy who commences in
such a school, will have his talents and ideas
brought out—or he will be driven out him-
Reasons for not Paying for a News
paper.—The Richmond Christian Advo
cate publishes the following extract from a
letter:—“Please say to the editor of the
Richmond Christian Advocate, that it
would doubtless be well to erase the name
C C from his books, and give
up as lost that S7,GO. Ho says, in the first
place, he never ordered the paper, and if he
did, he never got it, and if he did, twas as
an agent; and besides, he thinks he paid for
it long ago, and if he didn't he’s got noth
ing to pay, and if he hud, he could plead
the act cf limitation.”
Simple Division.
W c heard a story the other night on the
subject of division, which we thought good
at the time, and never having seen it in
print, wo are tempted to give our readers
the benefit of it.
A Southern planter named P , pret
ty well to do in the world now, was some
twenty years ago a poor boy on the eastern
shore of Maryland. One of the strongest
and most marked traits of his character,
was a most inordinate love of money. This,
however, is characteristic of the people of
them diggings, where they practice skin
ning strangers during brisk seasons, and
skinning one another daring dull times. In
the course of time 1* was of age, and
thought it time to get married. He went
to a neighboring town, and in the course of
events was introduced to a daughter of
Judge B.
‘Dang tine gal,’ said the embryo specula
tor to the friend who was giving him an en
trance among the elite.
‘How much might B. be worth?’
‘Why, about §10,000,’ was the prompt
‘And how many children has he got?’
continued the inquirer.
‘Only three.’
‘Three into ten goes three times and a
third over,’ mentally cyphered 1’ .
Here was a chance—a glorious chance—
and he improved it too. He made love to
the beautiful and unsophisticated daughter
of the Judge, with variations. Strange to
say—for he was as uncouth a cub as ever
went unlicked—his suit prospered, and they
were married.
The honeymoon passed off as all other
honeymoons do, and they were happy. The
bride was lively and chatty, and often made
allusions to her brothers and sisters. Start
led at a number of names be thought should
not be in the catalogue of relations, one
evening at tea be said—
‘My dear, 1 thought there was only three
of you.’
‘So there are by my ma, but pa's first
wife had eight more.’
‘Eleven go into ten no time, and narif one
over!' said the astonished P , who jump
ed up, kicked the bucket over the chair, and
groaned in perfect agony, T’m sold! and a
darned sight cheaper than an old bell wether
sheep at that 1’
Cool.—An ex-commission merchant, con
fessing his rascality, says he once sent the
following ‘returns’ for a crop of corn con
signed him:
Mr. Brown—Sir: I have, according to
your instruction, made a forced sale of your
corn, and received §475 00
Against which I have commission—
Fur Boatage 125 00
Cartage 12 00
Wheelage 12 50
Storage 00 00
Katage 30 00
Salcage 45 00
§314 50
Leaving, as you perceive, a balance
in your favor of §l6O 50
Vou can draw upon me for that sura.—
Trusting that you will honor me with still
further consignments,
1 remain, sir, yours sincerely,
Sam S win ton.
By the next mail Mr. Brown sent back
the account, with these words at the bot
“You infernal villain! put in stealage,
and keep the whole of it!”

“Hard Shell Baptists” are a
well-known sect in the South and South
west. They are not related, that we know
of, to the Hurd Shell Democrats in this
State,though their christen name is thesame.
They go dead against all bible, temperance,
and education societies; hate missions to the
heathen, and all modern schemes for con
verting the rest of mankind. Of course
they are opposed to learning, and speak as
they are suddenly moved. A Georgia cor
respondent writes to the Drawer, and re
lates the following of one of our preachers:
Two of them were in the same pulpit to
gether. While one was preaching he hap
pened to say, ‘When Abraham built the
The one behind him strove hard to cor
rect his blunder by saying out loud, ‘Abra
ham irarn't thar .’
But the speaker pushed on, heedless of
the interruption, and only took occasion
shortly to repeat, still more decidedly, T
sav, when Abraham built the ark.
'•And 1 say,’ cried the other, ‘ Abraham
warnt thar.'
The Hard Shell was too hard to be beat
en down in this way. and addressing the 1
people, exclaimed, with great indignation,
‘I say Abraham was thar, or thar abouts.’
Kinnev's Gold Mines.—A gentleman of
this city who was formerly a resident of
Grevtowu. and traveled a good deal in Cen
tral America and Nicaragua, writes us that
the story of a mining enterprise on Indian
river, published in tiic Cental American, is
all humbug, ife says that the most noted
productions of Indian river are intermittent
fever and alligators—that in fact, it is not
a river at all, but a lagoon, formed from the
waters of the San Juan. He knows all of
Kinney’s territory, and says it is an inch
under water for nine months in the year,
and an inch over during the remaining three
months. He thinks that the only thing
that would pay in that country would be
raising alligators, as their oil is a specific
for rheumatism. [Evening Bulletin.
Serpents are said to obey the voice
of their masters; the trumpeter bird of A
merica follows its owner like a spaniel, and
the jacana acts as a guard to poultry, pre
serving them in the fields all the day from
birds of prey, and escorting them home reg
ularly at niffht. In the Shetland Isles there
is a gull which defends the flock from ea
gles; it is therefore regarded as a privileged
bird. The chamois, bounding among the
snowy mountains of the Caucasus, are in
debted for their safety, in no small degree,
to a particular species of pheasant. This
bird acts as their sentinel; for as soon us it
gets sight of a man it whistles, upon hear
ing which the chamois, knowing the hunter
to be not far distant, sets off with the great
est speed, and seeks the highest peaks of
the mountains. The artifices which part
ridges and plovers employ to delude their
enemies from the nest of their young, may
be referred to as a case in point, as well as
the adroit contrivance of the hind for the
preservation of her young; for when she
hears the sound of dogs, she puts herself in
the way of the hunters, and starts in a di
rection to draw them away from her fawns.
Instances of the effect of grief upon animals
are also no less remarkable. The writer
already cited soys: "1 knew a dog that died
for the loss of its master, and a bulfinch
that abstained from singing ten entire
months on account of the absence of its
mistress. On her return it immediately re
sumed its song.” Lord Kaimes relates an
instance of a canary, which, while singing
to its mate hatching her eggs in a cage, tell
dead; the female quitted her nest, and find
ing him dead, rejected all food, and died by
bis side.— [Waverly Magazine.
Voting L nderstandixolv. —Some years
ago, when the Legislature of one of the
Middle States were framing a Constitution,
the discussion of its various provisions was
very warm and obstinate. Many days kid
been spent in debate, and the vote was
at length about to be taken. Just at this
moment a country member, who had been
absent for some days previously, entered
the House and took his seat. Another
member who was in favor of the amended
Constitution, went to him and endeavored
to make a convert of him.
“You must vote for the Constitution, by
all means,” said he.
‘•I’ll think of it,” said the honorable coun
try member.
“But you must make up your mind at
once, ray man, for the vote is about to be
The country member scratched his liead
and seemed puzzled.
“Come, why do you hesitate? Will you
promise me to vote for the Constitution? I
am sure it will give general satisfaction to
“I'll vote for it on one condition,” said
the country member.
“What is that?”
“And no other, by gracious.”
“But what condition is it?”
“Why, that they let it run through my
is more common than to
hear the foreigners in this country boasting
of the vastly better and cheaper things they
used to have in that blessed land they came
from; but the truth comes out very neatly
in this conversation we overheard in mar
ket the other day:
An Irishman asks a Long Island woman
the price of a pair of fowls, and is told,
“A dollar.”
“And a dollar is it, my darlint; why in
my country you might buy them for six
pence apiece.”
“And why didn’t you stay in that blessed
cheap country?”
“Och, faith, and there was no sixpence
there, to be sure !”
lu America children are perpetual
ly “watered,” as though they were amphib
ious animals. In the East Indies children
are rarely washed in water; but they are
oiled every day. A child’s head cau be
kept much cleaner if oiled than without it,
and many young persons with hectic okeks
would probably never know the last days of
consumption if their parents would insist
on having the chest, back ami limbs anoint
ed with sweet oil two or three times a week.
The Hebrew physicians seem to have con
sidered oil as more efficacious than any oth
er remedy. The sick were always anoint
ed with oil as the most powerful means that
was known of checking disease.
few nights ago, a Mr. Bodkin,
who had been out taking his glass and pipe,
on going home late, borrowed an umbrella,
and when his wife's tongue was loosened, he
sat up and suddenly spread out the parnpu
“What are you going to do with that
thing?” said she.
-\\ hy, my dear. I expected a very heavy
storm to-night, and so 1 came prepared.”
In less than two minutes Mrs. Bodkins
was fast asleep.
of our exchanges tells a story
of an editor out West, who wished to marry
a blue-eyed damsel of his neighborhood, and
asked the consent of her father. The old
man, as every prudent father should do, in
quired how much money he could bring the
bride. The editor said he had no money,
but he would give her a puff k his paper.
He married the girl, of course.
A voung man and a female once upon a
time stopped at a country tavern. eii
awkward appearance excited the attention
of one of the family, who commenced con
versation with the female, by inquiring bow
far she had traveled that day? ’ traveled,
exclaimed the stranger, somewhat indig
nantly. ‘we didn’t travel! tee rid!
NO. 4.

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