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

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VOL. 11.
Flatt tfc Siiaw.
03ce, Main St., nearly opposite Masonic Hall.
For one year $5 00
Pc r 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 150
Liberal deductions for quarterly advertisements.
GrOO. Car. "W olDStor,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
WILL crive prompt attention to all business
entrusted to him before the District or
lower Courts. Commissioner for Conn.
Office—in Pilot & Rock Creek Co’s building,
M ;in Street, nearly opposite Mory's Saloon.
Georgetown, Dec. I'Jth, 1855. [B-tf.
Office, Main street, next door to Zelners Store,
XW. A, Groorgo,
OFFICE—Corner building west side Main street,
opposite Warren's Hail,
Office, on the cor. of Maiden Lane Jc Placer sts..
mar 12
A. I>. ROCK,
Attorneys at Law,
January Ist, 1858. 13-tf
G-raliam d) Jcults,
Jan. Ist, 1856. 10-tf
Wm. Ewing,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law.
Office at Lower Johntown, El Dorado Co.. Cal.
November 12th, 1855. [3-4t*
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.
L. O. noytonm,
Justice of the Peace.
OFFICE on Church st., head of Maiden Lane,
one door south of Bollen & Ritter’s Gun and
Blacksmith establishment. Office open every day
#f the week from 9 to 4 o’clock; Sunday excpted.
Georgetown, May 24th, 1855. [32-tf.
AY, DR. F. G., Main street, Georgetown.—
i Office opposite Adams k Co.
Oct. 26. 1854. 2-tf
WELLS, FARGO & CO., Express Agents,
Gold Dust Shippers, and Bankers, George
town. [See advertisement.] 2-tf
A S. of T Georgetown Division, No. 42,
, f Sons of Temperance, meets every Tues
day evening, at 7 o’clock, in their Hall
Canon street, Georgetown.
All brethren in good standing are invited to at
M. F. Guthrie, R. S.
Georgetown Presbyterian Church.
Rev. David McClure, Pastor.—This Church
.d congregation meet for Divine Worship in the
>wn Hall, every Sabbath morning and eve
ng. Services commencing at 10i o’clock, A.
~ and 7i P. M.. Sabbath School in the after
ion at 2 o’clock.
*gpThe public are cordially invited to attend.
Public Worship. —At the School House,
jorgetown. Regular appointments of Rev. Jno.
iarp, of M. E. Church, 10i A. M. and 7P. M.,
ery Sabbath. Occasional supplies by other
inisters. Prayer meetings, Wednesday even
gs at 7P. M. Sabbath School A. M.
California Stage
Oompa-D-y Uotico.
IT AGES for Sacramento City, |
5 leave the “Nevada House,” •=
eorgetown, every morning, at three o clock, A.
. and the “ Buckeye Exchange,” Greenwood
alley, at four o’clock, A. M., arriving in Sacra
ento in time to connect with the steamboats for
m Francisco. _
J. HAWORTH, Pres. Cal. S. Co.
Per M. A. MERCHANT, Agent.
March 38th. 1855. [24-tf.
Books & Stationery.
A 1,1 ter ary Depot, is opened by the under
signed, on Main Street, Bottle Hill, at which,
every variety, and of the latest date, can be had
opon application.
Battle Hill, April 18th, 1855. [27-tf.
WINDOW GLASS of all kinds; also Putty,
Whitine and Chalk, at
The National American latform.
{Adopted at Philadelphia, February 22d,185G.)
First: An humble acknowledgment to
the Supreme Being who rules the universe,
for his protecting care vouchsafed to our
fathers in their successful Revolutionary
struggle, and hitherto manifested to us,
their descendants, in the preservation of the
liberties, the independence, and the union
of these States.
Second: The perpetuation of the Federal
Union, as the palladium of our civil and re
ligious liberties, and the only sure bulwark
of American Independence.
2 hird: Americans must rule America, and
to this end, native- born citizens should be
selected for all State, Federal and munici
pal officers of government employment in
preference to naturalized citizens; neverthe
Fourth: Persons born of American pa
rents residing temporarily abroad, should
be entitled to all the rights of native-born
citizens; but:
Fifth: No person should be selected for
political station, (whether native or foreign
birth,) who recognizes any allegiance or ob
ligation, of any description, to any foreign
prince, potentate, or Power, or who refuses
to recognize the Federal and State Consti
tutions (each within its sphere) as para
mount to all other laws as rules of political
Sixth: The unqualified recognition and
maintenance of the reserved rights of the
several States, and the cultivation of har
mony and fraternal good will between the
citizens of the several States, and, to this
end, non-interference by Congress with
questions appertaining solely to the individ
ual States, and non-intervention by each
State with the affairs of any other State.
Seventh: The recognition of the right of
the native-born and naturalized citizens of
the United States, permanently residing in
any Territory thereof, to frame their Con
stitution and laws, and to regulate their do
mestic and social affairs in their own mode,
subject only to the provisions of the Feder
al Constitution, with the right of admission
into the Union whenever they have the re
quisite population for one Representative
in Congress. Provided always, That none
but those who are citizens of the United
States, under the Constitution and laws
thereof, and who have a fixed residence in
any such Territory, ought to participate in
the formation of the Constitution, or in the
enactmentof laws for said Territory or State.
Eighth: An enforcement of the principle
that no State or Territory can admit others
than native-born citizens to the right of
suffrage, or of holding political office, unless
such persons shall have been naturalized
according to the laws of the United States.
Ninth: A change in the laws of naturali
zation, making a continued residence of
twenty-one years, of all not heretofore pro
vided for, and indispensably requisite for
citizenship hereafter, and excluding all pau
pers, and persons convicted of crime, from
landing upon our shores; but no interfer
ence with the vested rights of foreigners.
Tenth: Opposition to any union between
Church and State; no interference with re
ligious faith, and no test oaths for office ex
cept those indicated in the fifth section of
this platform.
Eleventh: Free and thorough investiga
tion into any and all alleged abuses of pub
lic functionaries, and a strict economy in
public expenditures.
Twelfth: The maintenance and enforce
ment of all laws until said laws shall be re
pealed, or shall be declared null and void
by competent judicial authority.
Thirteenth: Opposition to the reckless
and unwise policy of the present Adminis
tration in the general management of our
national affairs, and more especially as
shown in removing “Americans” (by desig
nation) and conservatives in principle, from
office, and placing foreigners and ultraists
in their places; as shown in a truckling sub
serviency to the stronger, and an insolent
and cowardly bravado towards the weaker
powers; as shown in re-opening sectional
agitation, by the repeal of the Missouri
Compromise; as shown in granting to un
naturalized foreigners the right to suffrage
in Kansas and Nebraska; as shown in its
vascillating course on the Kansas and Ne
braska question; as shown in the removal
of Judge Bronson from the Collectorship of
New York upon false and untenable
grounds; as shown in the corruptions which
pervade some of the Departments of the
Government; as shown in disgracing meri
torious naval officers through prejudice or
caprice; and as shown in the blundering
mismanagement of our foreign relations.
Fourteenth; Therefore, to remedy existing
evils and prevent the disastrous consequen
ces otherwise resulting therefrom, we would
build up the “American party” upon the
principles hereinbefore stated, eschewing all
sectional questions, and uniting upon those
purely national, and admitting into said
party all American citizens (referred to in
the 3d, 4th and sth sections,) who openly
avow the principles and opinions heretofore
expressed, and who will subscribe their
names to this platform. Provided, never
theless, that a majority of those members
present at any meeting of a local council
where an applicant applies for membership
in the American party may, for any reason
by them deemed sufficient, deny admission
to such applicant.
Fifteenth A free and open discussion of
all political principles embraced in our plat
A subscriber writing to a western editor
says: “I don’t want your paper any longer.”
To which the editor replied: “I wouldn’t
make it any longer if you did; its present
length suits me very well.”
Our Old Grandmother.
I find the marks of my shortest steps be
side those of my beloved mother, which
were measured bymy own, says Alexander
Dumas, and so conjures up one of the sweet
est images in the world. He was revisiting
the home of his infancy; he was retracing
the little paths around it in which he had
once walked; and strange flowers could not
efface, and rank grass could not conceal,
and cruel plows could not obliterate his
‘shortest footsteps,’ and his mother's beside
them, measured by his ow n.
And who needs to be told whose foot
steps they were, that thus kept time with
the feeble pattering of childhood’s little feet?
It w T as no mother, behind whom Ascanius
walked “with equal steps” in Virgil’s line,
but a strong, stern man, who could have
borne him and not been burdened; folded
him in his arms from all danger and not
been wearied; everything, indeed, he could
have done for him, but just what he needed
most, could not sympathize with him, he
could not be a child again. Ah, a rare art
is that—for, indeed it is an art, to set back
the great old clock of time, and to be a boy
once more! Man’s imagination can easily
see the child a man; but how hard it is to
see the man a child; and he who had learned
to glide back into that rosy time, when he
did not know that thorns were under the
roses, or that clouds would ever return af
ter the rain; when he thought a tear could
stain a cheek no more than a drop of rain
a flower; wdien he fancied that life had no
disguise and hope no blight at all—has
come as near as anybody can to discovering
the north-west passage to Paradise.
And it is perhaps for this reason that it
is so much easier for a mother to enter the
kingdom of Heaven, than it is for the rest
of the world. She fancies she is leading the
children, when, after all, the children are
leading her, and they keep her indeed where
the river is the narrowest, and the air is
clearest; and the beckoning of a radiant
hand is so plainly seen from the other side,
that it is no wonder she often lets go her
clasp upon the little fingers she is holding,
and goes over to the neighbors, and the
children follow like lambs to ■ the fold, for
we think it ought somewhere to be written:
“Where the mother is, there will the chil
dren be also.”
But it was not of the mother we began
to think, but of the dear, old-fashioned
grandmother, whose thread of love, “by
hand,” on life’s little wheel, was longer and
stronger than they make it now, was wound
around about the children she saw playing
in the children's arms, in a true love-knot
that nothing but the shears of Atropos
could sever- fordo we not recognize the.
lambs sometimes, when summer days are
over and autumn winds are blowing, as
they come bleating from the yellow fields,
by the crimson thread we wound about their
necks in April or May, and so undo the
gate and let the wanderers in?
Blessed be the children who have an old
fashioned grandmother. As they hope for
length of days, let them love and honor her,
for we can tell them they will never find an
There is a large old kitchen somewhere
in the past, and an old-fashioned fire-place
therein, with its smooth old jambs of stone
—smooth with many knives that had been
sharpened there—smooth with many little
fingers that had clung there. There are
andirons, too, the old andirons, with rings
in the top, wherein many temples of flame
have been builded, with many spires and
turrets of crimson. There is a broad, worn
hearth—broad eneugh for three generations
to cluster on—worn by feet that have been
torn and bleeding by the way, or been made
“beautiful,” and walked upon tresselated
gold. There are tongs in the corner,where
with we grasped a coal, and “blowing for a
little life,” lighted our first candle; there is
a shovel, wherewith were drawn forth the
glowing embers in which w-e saw our first
fancies and dreamed our first dreams; the
shovel, w ith which we stirred the sleepy logs
till the sparks rushed up the chimney, as if
a forge were in blast below, and wished we
had so many lambs, or so many marbles, or
so many somethings that we coveted—and
so it was we wished our first wishes.
There is a chair—a low, rush-bottom
chair; there is a little wheel in the corner,
a big wheel in the garret, a loom in the
chamber. There are chests full of linen and
yarn, and quilts of rare pattern, and “sam
plers” in frames;
And everywhere and always, the dear old
wrinkled face of her whose firm, clastic step
mocks the feeble saunter of her children’s
children—the old fashioned grandmother of
twenty years ago. She, the very Provi
dence of the old homestead—she, who loved
us all, and said she wished there were more
of us to love, and took all the children in
the Hollow for grandchildren beside. A
great, expansive heart was hers, beneath
that woolen gown, or that more stately
bombazine, or that sole heirloom of silken
We can sec her to-day; those mild, blue
eyes, with more of beauty in them than
Time could touch or Death do more than
hide—those eyes that held both smiles and
tears within the faintest call of every one
of us, and soft reproof, that seemed not pas
sion, but regret. A white tress has escaped
from beneath her snowy cap; she has just
restored a wandering lamb to its mother;
she lengthened the tether of a vine that was
straying over a window, as she came in, and
and plucked a four-leaved clover for Ellen.
She sits down by the little wheel—a tress
is running through her fingers from the dis
taff s dishevelled head, when a small voice
cries “Grandma!” from the old red cradle,
and “Grandma!” Tommy shouts from the
top of the stairs. Gently she lets go the
thread, for her patience is almost as beauti
ful as her charity, and she touches the little
red bark a moment till the young voyager
is in a dream again, and then directs Tom
my’s unavailing attempts to harness the cat.
The tick of the clock runs faint and low,
and she opens the mysterious door and pro
ceeds to wind it up. ” We are all on tip-toe,
and we beg in a breath to be lifted up, one
by one. and look in the hundredth time up
on the tin cases of the weights, and the poor
and lonely pendulum, which goes to and
fro by its little dim window, and never
comes out in the world; and our petitions
are all granted, and we are lifted up, and
we all touch with a finger the wonderful
weights, and the music of the little wheel is
Was Mary to be married, or Jane to be
wrapped in a shroud? So meekly did she
fold the white hands of the one upon
still bosom, that there seemed to bo a
in them there; and so sweetly did she
the white rose in the hair of the other, that
one would not have wondered had more ro
ses budded for company.
How she stood between us and apprehen
ded harm; how the rudest of us softened
beneath the gentle pressure of the faded and
tremulous hand! From her capacious pock
et that hand was ever withdrawn closed,
only to be opened in our own with the nuts
she had gathered, the cherries she had
plucked, the little egg she had found, the
“turn-over” she had baked, the trinket she
had purchased for us as the product of her
spinning, the blessing she had stored fur us
—the offspring of her heart.
What treasures of story fell from those
old lips—of good fairies and evil—of the old
times when she was a girl; and we wonder
ed if ever—but then she couldn't be hand
somer or dearer—but that she ever was
“little.” And then, when we begged her
to sing. “Sing us one of those good old
songs you used to sing to mother, grand
“Children, I can’t sing,” she always said;
and mother used to lay her knitting softly
down, and the kitten stopped playing with
the yarn upon the floor, and the clock tick
ed lower in the corner, and the fire died
down to a glow, like an old heart that is
neither chilled nor dead, and grandmother
sang. To be sure, it wouldn’t do for the
parlor and the concert-room nowadays; but
then it was the old kitchen, and the old
fashioned grandmother, and the old ballad,
in the dear old times, and we can hardly see
to write for the memory of them, though it
is a hand's breadth to the sunset.
Well, she sang. Her voice was feeble
and wavering, like a fountain just ready to
fall; hut then how swoot-tonod it was; and
it became deeper and stronger, but it
couldn’t grow sweeter. What “joy of
grief” it was to sit there around the fire,
all of us except Jane; that clasped a prayer
to her bosom, and her we thought we saw
when the hall door was opened a moment by
the wind; but then we were not afraid, for
wasn’t it her old smile she wore?—to sit
there around the fire; and weep over the
woes of the “Babes in the Woods,” who lay
down side by side in the great solemn shad
ows; and how strangely glad we felt when
the robin redbreast covered them with
leaves, and last of all when the angels took
them out of the night into day everlasting.
We may think what we will of it now,
but the song and the story heard around the
kitchen fire have colored the thoughts and
lives of the most of us—have given us the
germ of whatever poetry blesses our hearts
whatever of memory blooms in our yester
days. Attribute what we may to the school
and schoolmaster, the rays which make that
little day we call life radiate from the God
swept circle of the hearthstone.
Then she sings an old lullaby she sang to
mother —her mother sang to her; but she
docs not sing it through, and falters ere ’tis
done. She rests her head upon her hands,
and it is silent in the old kitchen. Some
thing glitters down between her fingers in
the fire-light, and it looks like rain in the
soft sunshine. The old grandmother is
thinking when she first heard the song, and
of the voice that sang it; when, a light
haired and light hearted girl, she hung
around that mother’s chair, nor saw the
shadows of the years to come. Oh! the
days that are no more! What spell can we
weave to bring them back again? AVhat
words unsay, what deeds undo, to set back,
just this once, the ancient clock of time?
So all our little hands were forever cling
ing to her garments and staying her, as if
from dying, for long ago she had done liv
ing for herself, and lived alone in us. But
the old kitchen wants a presence to-day,
and the rush-bottom chair is tenantlcss.
How she used to welcome us when w 7 e
were grown, and came back once more to
the homestead.
M e thought we were men and women,
but we were children there. The old fash
ioned grandmother w’as blind in the eyes,
but she saw with her heart as she always
did. We threw our long shadows through
the door, and she felt them as they fell over
her form, and she looked dimly up and saw
tall shapes in the doorway, and she says:
“Edward I know, and Lucy’s voice I can
hear, but who is the other? It must be
Jane’s,” for she had almost forgotten the
folded hands. “Oh, no, not Jane, for she—
let me see—she is waiting for me, isn't she?”
and the old grandmother wandered and
“It is another daughter, grandmother,
that Edward has brought,” says some one,
“for you to bless.”
*• “Has she blue eyes, my son? Put her
hand in mine, for she is my latest born, the
child of my old age. Shall I sing you a
song, children?” Her hand is in her pock
et, rs of old; she is idly fumbling for a toy,
a welcome gift for the children that have
come again.
One of us, men as we thought we were,
is weeping: she hears the half-suppressed
sob; she says:
“Here, my poor child, rest upon your
grandmother’s shoulder; she will protect
you from all harm. Come, children, sit
round the fire again. Shall I sing you a
song or tell you a story? Stir the fire, for
it is cold; the nights are growing colder.”
The clock in the corner struck nine, the
bed-time of those old days. The song of
life was indeed sung, the story told; it was
bed-time at last. Good night to thee,
grandmother! The old fashioned grandmo
ther was no more, and we miss her forever.
But we will set up a tablet in the midst of
the memory, in the midst of the heart, and
write on it only this:
“Sacred to the Memory of the old fash
ioned Grandmother. God bless her forever.”
The American Merchant.— The Amer
ican merchant is a type of our restless, ad
venturous, onward-going race and people.
He sends his merchandise all over the earth;
stocks every market; makes wants, that he
may supply them; covers the New Zealand
er with southern cotton, woven in northern
looms; builds blocks of stores in the Sand
wich Islands; swaps with the Fcjce canni
bal; sends the whale ships among the ice
bergs of the poles, or to wander in solitary
seas, tells the tedious sameness of years, and
boys become men; gives the ice of a north
ern winter to the torrid zone; piles up Fresh
Pond on the banks of the Hooghly; glad
dens the sunny savannas of the dreamy
South; and makes life tolerable in the bun
galow of an Indian jungle. The lakes of
New England awake to life by the rivers of
the sultry east, and the antipodes of earth
come in contact at this “meeting of the wa
ters.” The white canvas of the American
ship glances in every nook of every ocean.
Scarcely has the slightest intimation come
of some obscure, unknown corner of a re
mote sea, when the captain is consulting
his charts, in full career for the terra incog
The physical appearance of a man some
times changes the current of events. A case
in point occurred yesterday on Front street.
The children of two ueigboring families had
their daily quarrels and fights, which resul
ted occasionally in bruised faces and torn
garments. The father of one family believ
ing his children to have been sadly mal
treated, and being a passionate man, con
cluded that the surest way to settle the dif
ference between their households perma
nently, would be to chastise the head of
the other family, although as yet, he had
never seen him. He thereupon procured a
raw-hide, and abruptly entering his neigh
bor's tenement, inquired in a threatening
tone, for “the man of the house.”
“I am here, sir,” said a personage of up
wards of six feet and weighing over two
hundred, as he approached to learn the bu
siness of his neighbor.
“Did I understand you, that you were the
gentleman of the house?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I—l just dropped in, sir, to see if
this was your rawhide.
A country fellow came to the city to see
his intended' wife, and for a long time to
come could think of nothing to say. At
last, a great snow falling, he took occasion
to tell her that his father's sheep would all
be undone. "Well,” said she, taking him
by the hand, “I'll keep and take care of
one of them.”
There was great comfort to a despond
ing man in the answer he got from a friend
to whom he was confiding his gloomy ap
prehensions of the future.
‘I don't see,’ said Mr. Dines to Mr.
Bright, ‘how 1 shall ever get through the
‘Did you ever hear,’ asked Mr. Bright,
‘of one who got stuck by the way?’
‘Charles,’ said a father to his son while
working in a saw-mill, ‘what possesses you
to associate with such girls as you do?—
When I was of your age, 1 could go with
the first cut.’ ‘But,’ said Charles, ‘the first
cut is the slab.’
licnrcl of Supervisors.
Monday, April 28,1856.
Board met pursuant to adjuurnmeut.—
Present, Irviuo. Kirk, Draper.
Board established election precincts and
appointed officers for special election to lo
cate county seat.
Lake Valley precinct abolished. Sports
man's Hall established. Others same as
last year.
Tuesday, April 29th, 1856.
Finished establishing precincts and ap
pointing judges and inspectors.
Wednesday, April 30.
Bond of A. 11. Saltou, road overseer
Dist. No. 1, approved.
Designation of M. A. Merchant, road
overseer I' -’,. No. 2, accepted, and John
Roy pointed to fill the vacancy—to take
effect upon his filing bond in the sum of §2,-
000 for the faithful discharge of his duty.
Report of road viewers Edwards and Bu
chanan accepted, and road declared a pub
lic highway in accordance with their report.
Petition of citizens of Big Bar township
granted, and road declared a public high
way in accordance with the prayer of said
Per diem of County Assessor while as
sessing, fixed at §lO.
IT. W. Merritt, Assessor 61,046 50
E. B. Carson, Sheriff, 150 00
Condee & Co., conveying Insane
to Asylum 100 00
Do con. Indg. sick Ilos. 2 00
Dunn & Bell, merchandise 19 00
Harvy & Clark, medical services 20 00
Keene & Harvy do do 20 00
P. Strelitz, interpreting 5 00
John 11. Prodger, witness fees, 8 50
Thomas Pearson, “ “ 6 50
E. N. Strout, “ “ 10 00
E. B. Dunning, constable 9 20
Charles Orvis, road overseer... 211 25
R. E. Draper, committee serv., 45 00
Alex. Irvine, “ “ 21 00
“ “ Supervisor, 37 00
R. E. Draper, “ 29 00
Adjourned to meet on Monday next.
[Empire Co. Argus.
An Interesting Experiment.—We have
heard a good story concerning a certain
town liquor agency not an hundred miles
1 from Hartford, which will do to print. A
free-and-easy looking customer applied to
the store keeper for a pint of rum, for me
chanical purposes. It was furnished him
and he disappeared, but not long afterwards
again presented himself at the counter foi
another pint.
“What are yon going to do with this?’
asked the storekeeper.
“O,” said the customer, “we are using it
for mechanical purposes—just up here ic
the next street.”
The liquor was measured out, paid for
and disappeared. In the course of an houi
the same customer once more appeared foi
a third pint. This the agent thought best
to refuse him until he was better satisfied
of the use to which it was appropriated.
“What arc you doing with so much rum?’
“O, it’s all right—a party of us are try
ing an experiment, and arc obliged to use
this in carrying it out successfully.”
The agent handed over the liquor, and
asked, as his customer received it—
“ What is your experiment?”
“Why, the fact is,” said Mr. Coon, jam
ming the bottle safely into his overcoat
pocket, “a couple of us are trying to get
drunk on your rum. We have punished a
quart of it so far without much success, and
either we or the rum will give it up on this
Prefer your own Country paper to any
other, and subscribe immediately for it and
pay in advance, and it shall be well with
thee and thy little ones.
Reproof should not exhaust its power on
petty failings; let it watch diligently against
the incursions of vice, and leave foppery
and futility to die of themselves.
Mutual Attachment.—A lady friend of
miue was walking on Broadway, a short
time ago, when a gentleman's coat button
caught iu the fringe of her shawl. Some
moments elapsed before the parties were
“I am attached to you, madam,” said the
gentleman good-humoredly, while he was
industriously trying to get loose.
“The attachment is mutual, sir,” was the
equally good-humored reply.
Criticism.— When “Paradise Lost,” was
published, the celebrated Waller wrote this
passage: “The old blind schoolmaster,
John Milton, hath published a tedious poem
ou the fall of man; if it be not considered as
merit, it hath no other.”
Exquisite Sentiment.—‘What,’ exclaim
ed the accomplished and fashionable Fitz
wigglc to the exquisitely lovely Miss De
La Sparrowgrass, ‘what would you be,
dearest, if I should press the stamp of love
upon those sealing-wsyi lips?”
‘l,’ responded the fairy-like creature,
‘should be— stationary''
A military captain out west, by thenamo
of Bang, lias named his eldest son Slam.—
What a noisy fellow he’ll be. Slam Bangl
Mrs. Smitiiers says her husband was
once the greatest military man in the coun
try. For two years he wasa Lieutenant in
the Horse Marines, after which he was pro
moted to a Captaincy in a jugular company
of sapbeads and minors.
NO. 30.

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