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• BY BAUHT * KTOFER. TitßMSaf A nvxM-risiKu.—The following are •ur terras *f Advertising, which will, lv ac Instance, t>* departed from : On* square, (10 line* or le**,) let liisrrt'n.Jl 00 Each subsequent lnscrtloa, 0 50 line square lit mouths 1200 On* square S month* s.OO One square 8 inotuiy. ."'".' 509 Business Cards, one year 10 00 Two square*, i_> month* aono Th re* squares, hi mouth* 36(10 Quarter column, I'J uionthi .... 40 r* Halfoolumn, 12 months ' 70 __, One column. 11l month*. , ..'"..125 00 <•- Advertisements for a less time than three months will be charged for at the usu al rules—one dollar persuuiire/ur the lirst in sertion, aud flfty ceut* for each subsequent Insertion. ■ «*VTb* nnrnber of Insert lons m ust lie mark ed *n the manuscript o. the advertisement will b* continued until forbid ami chanted for accordingly. .. . JMimort Carbs. »«. R. JIIJIfS. IE Visa A. BUCK. ADAMS A DICK, .mt'OHTrus A!*D jomiEits or HISA, GLASS MDPENSME, . Uli DBA LICKS m VAMPS, CHANDKLIEIW, COAI, OIL, Ac. *o. 231 H.lttus.r. Straet, And Si Uemum tttrtet, BALTIMOIIK, MD. TKTE are now manufacturing our own " Ixxmpt, and can offer inducements In feat;t>ranch of business. November 15,1887.—1y. WM. CAKBr. BEBHA IW UILI'IN. (Aim, ciii.ii \ «t co., imtortbrh aud jonnsas er DRUGS, ■ • W. C*»tr Light and Lombard It* BALTIMORE. PROPRIETORS of Stabler* Ano dyne, Cherry JSxpeelomnt, Ktabler's Dia rhrea Cordial,Htabler'H lir. Chapman's Worm Mixture, Norris* Tonic or Fever and Ague Mixture, Nimmo's Mixture, Wright's Worm Killer Gilpin's Vegetable Pills, Cbiillant's Coco Cream. Moveraber 15,18»7. Boyd, Pearre k. Co., ■IVOBTBRS AKD WHOLESALE DEAI.EIIB IN CLOTHS, CASSIMERKS, Satinets, Cottonatles, and Fancy Dry Goods, Ho. 6, Hanover Street, BALTIMORE, MD . A. a'KRNDKKE BOTD. AUBRAT r-KARRK. • LIVIill 11. PKAKKB. Miinmto 15,1867.—1y. REIP Jt SONS, Jl*. 333 Haiti mo re si., Baltimore, MAIUTrACTUBBKS or r L A 1N AND JAPANNED TIN WARE, AND dealers in Britannia Ware, Hardware, Plated Ware, and Fancy ijtuotis, wholesale and retail. 4__r- Country Merchants are respectfully in vited to call and examine the goods. November 15,1867.—1y. _t, B. ABAHS. W. T. DAVIDSON ADAMS & DAVIDSON, WHOLESALE (.ROGERS, AND DEALERS IN Whiskies, Brandies, Wines, Jt Ho. 7 Commerce Street, BALTIMORE, MO. AGENTS for the sale of Tobacco, drain, etc. November 15,1867.—ly. M.IBOBINSON, OF Ti., WITH) ARTllt R EMERY Jt CO., IMPORTERS AND DKAI.KRS IN ■NSMBH, GEItMAN AND AMERICAN HARDWARE, CIiTLERY, M,, • 8 a. Calvert Street, BAI/.T.15108E , M D. AaTMI'K BIIERT. JOHN O. EtiBKTON November IS, 1867.—iy. I-. Passano & Bona, Importers and Dealers in Notions, Hosiery, FANCY GOODS, (1 LOVES, TRIMMINGS Avn SMALL WARES, !t«8 -MT. Baltimore St., BALTIMORE, Md. November 15,1867-ly. Charles H. iifcts & Bro., Importers of BRANDIES, WINES, OINS, Bl'M, SCOTCH ALE, BROWN STOUT, SALAD OIL, CAS TILE SOAP, &c. No. 7il Exchange Place, BALTIMORE, Md. Navember 15.1867-ly > ~jfTilb. E. SMITH, (raaiißßLY joun smith a co., Richmond,) WHOLESALE DRUGGISTS, AND DEALERS IN BT« (STUFFS, PATENT MEDICINES. *c, Jt*. 334 W. Baltimore Street, (Up Stairs,) BALTIMORE, MD. If ovember 15,1867.—1y.» • CHO YIELD'S WHITE Horse RESTAURANT, ll;< West Pratt Street), Adjoining Mnltby House, BALTIMORE, MD. yarinber 15, IfW.—ly. Cole. Price & Co., WIIOLBLAI.R CLOTHIERS, US Baltimore St., Bear Charles St., JJALTIMURE. a. _r. cole. ». a. run. B. X. ADAMS. I. W. ADAH*. November 15,1807.—1y. Carroll, Adams Jt Keer, SUA Baltimore street, B> LT I It O R E , M D., Manufacturer sand Wholesale Dealers la Boots, Shoes, Hats, AlO STRAW GOODS. lA, lit.'ff.—«m. . lUoldHboro-.iKli- & Henry, Wholesale Dealers ill NOTIONS, HOSIERY, FANCY GOODS, &c. If o. 8 Hanover.Street, (Up Stairs,) BALTIMORE, Md. U. C. Goi-DSBORoroil, Maryland. It. B. Bvi'B, Vii-Ktnla. J. W. Henry. M*ryluud. November 15,1887.-ly.* ________ GEO/W. HEHK!!V« A. SON, DEALERS IN CUWA, GLASS A\D(}LE*NS\YARE, ■a. T Soatbi Churl,, street, BALTIMORE. ypvember IS, IH67.—'lra. Wtu. U. JK) an, KOTE & BILL BROKER AND DBALEH IN SOUTHERN MONEY, St. Paul whbbt, BALTIMORE. Md. _J»ot. tt, UWT.-ly. <*4Di>i;ss itiios.. KI'I'CBKNOtW TO Al.__, GADDESS, STEM MAPLE \Vi,BKS, L'ornrr ar Sharp nnd !»'"•> glWlftl. A SOUTHERN CHILD* LAMENT. Mamma, they say 'tis Christina* eve lint tell me, can it her ' It brings no sin'le upon my face, No merriment to inc. ' lam weary of these snow-clad hills, No longer wonld 1 roam; Oh! take mo to the Orange grov*, At our deserted home. Our parlor looks so dark to-night; We have no Christmas tree; No dainties on our table spread; Mamma, how can It Uc? The grass nt home Is soft and green, The skies are bright above, And little birds sing merrily Their songs or Joy and love. i I long to breathe the pure fresh air. To nee those bright bin* skies, To wander o'er our gnrden walks, And chase the butterflies; • I long to see the tall pine trees. For throagh their boughs to-day 1 The wind ig sighing mournfully, Because we stay away. My child, your simple, artless speech Makes tears unhidden stan ; The light i» dim within our home, Oonc out williln my heart, And if across our darkened path Hope casts a trembling gleam, i 'Tls but the phantom of a Joy, The mockery of a dream. One promise sweet sustains me now: . To suffering ones 'Us given; That they who bear the cross on earth Shall wear the crown In Heaven, Oae gift alone I claim as ours, Upon the coming morn; One gift from Heaven—a glorious boon— The promised Saviour born. 1 —Southern Society. • THE TYRAXXicAL FATHER. "Jennie," said Mr. Stacey one even ing, to his daughter, "Kdward Wright called at my store to-day. I suppose you know what loaf" "How should I know what for, pa pa?" returned Jennie, with a look of unconsciousness that was belled by the vivid crimson that rose from her cheeks ' to the temples. "I suppose it was to see about an order for some goods or something." "Not exactly," replied her father smiling. "Uc came to see me about you; in ibc-rt, to ask my permission to address you." Jennie reddened again; but the sud den flash that gleamed out trom beneath theUrown lashes "poke more of scorn than satisfaction. "Ot course I gave my consent," con tinued Mr. Stacey, after waiting liis daughter to reply. "If you hadn't I suppose that would have been the last of it, so far as he was concerned," retorted Jennie, with a sar castic touch that was .inlte lost upon hur ' matter of fact fattier. "Well, my dear, 1 don't know as there i 6 any need of raising the uuestiou. I could have no reasonable objection to a well-principled, Intelligent young man like Mr. Wright, and who is, withal, do ing an excellent business. Ho it re mains for you to say whether you will be Mrs. Kdward Wright." Jennie pursed up her rosy lips with an air of great dignity. "1 haven't been asked yet." '•No. I suppose not. But 1 shouldn't wonder if he was here to-night for that express purpose." Then, as a glimmer of the truth en tered his mind, Mr. Stacey added : L "I trust that you are not so foolish, my daughter, as to take offence because he spoke to me about It first. In so do ing he acted honorably, and as every man should, and it ought to raise, rather thanlower.hiin in your esteem. Indeed, 1 fancied from what he said, that he was quite sure of the nature ot your feelings for him, else he had not spoken to me. Jennie's indignation now reached its . climax. She elevated her naturally rather aspiring nose, until it stood at right angles. sine, was he? I don't know why he should be, then, I never ffive him any reason to feel confident." Mr. Stacey looked rather gravely at bis daughter. "I don't know what you havo aaid to him, but I know that he's been here a good deal, and you've always seemed glad to sec him. 1 hope yon hav'nt been trifling with the young man, Jen nie Am I to understand that you don't i intend to marry him !" Jennie's round and rosy face assumed a lofty an expression as features conld be expected to wear, not formed exact ly from the heroic mold. ' "Mr. Wright is an excellent yonng man, papa. I've nothing to say against him. But I would sooner perish than unite my fate with one whose feelings are so antagonistic to the holiest sympa thies of my nature." The concluding sentence was a quota tion from her favorite norvel. "Astrea; or The stony hearted Father," and was pronounced with no little vehemence of look and tone. Mr. Stacey started at the daughter ' for a. moment without speaking. "I really did not see. my dear," he said, dryly, "any necessity for so much - display ot energy; if you don't like. Mr. Wright well enough to marry him, all ' that you have got to do Is to tell him Here was a "come down" to Jennie s soaring imagination. tt>» f:l,her abs ° lutely refused to play the role of the " Stony hearted Father, rulhlessly des troying the secret hope that had risen in her heart, that some romantic inci dent, for which she had so often longed, was about to. break the sameness of her flnll .tinlproeo'life And, to Increase her dissatisfaction, Edward Wright, whom she really lilted, and whom she had invested with many ofthe virtues and graces that adorned her favorite heroes, instead of throwing himself at her feet anil declaring that no power on earth should take her from him had actually condescended to Un common sense and conversational meth od of nskin her father's permission be fore speaking to her ! Nothing more was necessary to prove to her that he was not, to use her own language, "the chosen arbiter of her destiny." After tea Jennie slipped out ofthe buck way aud ran over to a neighbor's, for the two fold purpose of avoiding what -she was pleased to term the "per secutions" ofthe aforesaid Mr. Kdward W right,and pour her troubles—or rather her want of any—into the sympathising bosom of her dear friend, Arabella Eu genic Angelina Stubbs. Jennie being firmly convinced that •'the course of true love never did run smooth," and as in the event of her be coming Mrs. Kdward Wright there would be nothing left, for Iter to do but to order her wedding finery, and go through with the requisite ceremony, she eithci avoided the poor fellow alto gether, or treated him with such an air of lofty indifference as to put him to his wits' end to discover the cause ol this singular change in her conduct. "Jennie," said Mr. Stacey, a few weeks after, "who was that young man that you were talking with at the gate this morning?" "Kdward Wright, papa," replied Jen nie, not a little astonished at this abrupt inquiry, as well as the scowl -that ac companied it. "Well, never let me ice you with him again I" Jennie opened her eyes wider. "Why not? I thought Kdward was a great favorite of yours !" "So he was until I tonnd him out. 1 did think a great deal of the young man; but after what has happened, he shall never darken my door again !" "Dear me ! wliat in the world lias ho done ?" "Done ? what ought to send him to the penitentiary—what would send him there if I had the law in my hand-! r" The stiddeu pallor that swept over Jennie's face would have betrayed to the most indifferent eye the true state of her affections, "Do you mean that he has been steal ing, papa ?" ''Stealing, he has done worse than that!" "(Jood heavens !" faltered poor Jen nie, "has lie been killing anybody ?" "Worse than that. A man that wi'l sell his country is worse than a murder er ! and any one that will vote for that lying, double faced traitor, iliggins, is a worse scoundrel than he!" "Is that all r" 6aid Jennie, drawing a long sigh of relief. "I thought it was something dreadful." "All?" echoed her father. "I should say that it was enough—quite enough to sink him in the estimation of every hon est man. Once more, I say doiit let me see you with him again !" Here Mr. Stacey stamped out of the room banging the door alter him. ♦'Uood gracious I" exclaimed Jennie, as she picked up the contents other work basket, that her father had knock ed over In his furious exit. "I should like to know what's got into pa, all at once. To think oi'hiiu forbidding me to speak to Kdward just for that!'' And with flushed cheeks and a flutter of delight at her heart at the thought of haying "something to tell," and that something "so strange and mysterious," she sought the presence of her usual confidant, the fair Arabella Kngenic Angelina Stnbbs, to whom It was duly unfolded with sundry embellishments, the fruits of her fertile imagination, and who quite agreed with her In thinking It to be "the strangest thing that ever came to her knowledge." "Jennie," said Mr. Stacey, the next day after dinner, as taking his hat he turned to leave the house, "young Wright had the Impudence to speak to me again about you, and, intimates that he did so by your permission, you may as well know, once for all, that it can never be ! 1 would sooner see you in your grave than the wife of suchamau! I've got a husband picked out for you. Deacon Obidiah l'ettigrew is a man that will do you and the family credit." "Deacon Pettigrew ? Why, ra, he's moro than twice my age !" "That* the very reason why I have selected him; you need some one to keep you steady. He will be here to morrow evening, and I shall expect you to re ceive him with the respect and consider ation due to your future husband." Before his daughter had time to re cover from the astonishment Into which this announcement threw her, Mr. Sta cey was some ways down tlie street. "Well 1 know two things," exoluim ed Jennie; putting down her foot with a determined air, "1 won't have that stupid Deacon rcttigrew, and I will have—Kdward Wright!" As she said this, she took from her bosom a letter from the last named In dividual, lull of protestations of uudy ing love, and imploring her to meet him at 0 o'clock that evening, rereading it for the fortieth time with flushed chaeks and kindling eyes' That evening, as Jennie went to the appointed place, whicli she did not fail to do v site found Kdward waiting for her. Instead of wearing his usual auccif.il look, and pleasant smile, he stood lean ing against a tree with arms folded a ' croc* hi* breaat, aud a gloomy clojuL upon his brow, "looking," as Jennie confidently informed the sympathising Arabella Eugenic Angelina Stubbs, . "for all the world like the picture of Rupert Di Binaldo, iv "The Brigand of the Black Forest." \ Ktlward found little difficulty In per suading her to leave home, aud unite i her fate with his. Accordingly the next night, as "soon as the house was > still, Jennie, enveloped in a dark man- . tie, and face concealed by a thick, close ly drawn veil, stole out through the back way to the place where her lover . was waiting. He had a covered carriage, and though the night was dark, she could see the dim outline ofa man upon the box. They rode two hours, mostly iv si lence; for that tlie irrevocable step was taken, Jennie's courage began to fail her, and she grew depressed in spirits she hardly knew why. It seemed to lier that they would never reach their ' destination, which Edward bad inform ed her was the house ofa elergymanjln an adjoining town. But at last, to her great relief, the carriage stopped. "To avoid observation we are going in through the back way," whispered Edward, as he assisted her to alight.— ' Draw your veil closely around your ' face." | The night was so dark that she could ' not sec the least thing, and she clung nervously to the baud that led her along ' a short path, over a plat of grass, tip , some steps, into adark, narrow passage, ' which led into a hall, and from thence into a room that opened out of tt, light- ' by one small low lamp. Beside the ta- ' ble on which it was placed, the clergy man stood —a venerable looking man— ' aud at the lower end of the apartment a seemed to be a number of persons, though the light was dim that only the c outlines of their forms were visible. ' Edward spoke a few whispered words < in the cleigyman, and then the cere- ' mony commenced. £ As soon as '.he last words were spok ' en, as if by a preconcerted movement, the two burners at each end ofthe room r were lighted, tilling it with a sudden t blaze of light, while a merry peal of - laughter mode it ring again aud again. I As soon as Jennie's dazzled eyes would permit her to see, she found, to t her astonishment, that she was back In I the house that she supposed she had t quitted forever, and surrounded by her I father, and quite a large group of friends J and relatives. "My daughter," said Mr. Stacey, ad- ' ing toward her, "I trust that I have ' played the role of the "tyrannical fath cr'to your entire satisfaction, and that v you will now permit mt to offer you t my congratulations upon a marriage r that has long been the first wish of my a heart." ' "I hope you enjoyed your ride, said « her roguish brother Tom who In the ca- i paclty of coachman, had driven her all about the outskirts ofthe town, and fln- ' ally back to the place from where they 1 started. ' "How eouhl you deceive me so:-"'said t Jennie, turning her eyes reproachfully upon her husband, as her mind slowly E took in the ruse that had been played t upon her. « "My dearest love," he said, with a look that quite disarmed her, "it was s the only way by which 1 could hope to n win you." i "LO, I ALWAYS!" — :i A mother, one morning,gave her two „ little ones books and toys to amuse them ~ while she went to attend some work iv an upper room. v A half hour passed quietly, and then a timid voice at the stairs called out : , "Mamma, are you there?" "Yes, darling." t "All right then," and tho child went j back to its play. x By-and-by the question was repeat- , cd— "Mamma, aro you there ?" . "Yes." "All right then," and the little ones, | reassured of their mother's presence, ( again returned to their toys. I Thus when God's little ones, in doubt and loneliness, look up ank ask : "My Father, art Thou there?" and whjn there comes in answer the assurance of His presence, our hearts are quieted. BEGINNING THE WORLD. Many an unwise parent labors hard f and lives sparingly all his life, for the purpose of leaving enough to give his * children a start in t ; .« world, as it Is called. Setting a young man afloat ' with money left him by relatives, Is like tying bladders under the anus of one ( who cannot swim; ten chances to one f he will loose his bladders and go to the * bottom. Teach him to swim and he ' never will need bladders. Give your s child a sound education, and you have done enough for him. See to it that ' his morals are pure, his mind cultivated, • and his whole nature made subservient to the laws which govern men, and you t have given what will be of more value ' to him than the wealth of the Indies.— To be thrown upon one's resources Is ' to be cast Into tho very lay of fortune, ' for our faculties then undergo a devel- ' opnient, and display an energy, of ' which they were previously uiuuaeepti- ' ble. _ ___ |CJ"»Thc morality oi some people is like their crockery ; they have two sets, one for show, and one for use ; and they both answer the same purpose, the one satislles the minds ol other peo. pie, the other their o»n. But this much may be said of both, that howev er well they may serve the purposes of this world they are of no value for the 1 next.. HOW TOM ROUSED HER. The wife ef Tom Gordon is a victim to imaginary ailments, and is never so content us whim living according to her directions ot her medical advisor. Dr. Valentine now understands her whims and oddities so well that he humors her in every caprii c; if she imagines rheum atism is lu-r complaint, he agrees with her, and prescribes some harmless po tion ; if she thinks her appetite de creasing some bread pills keep her in good spirits ur.till the fancied symp toms of some other disease induce her again to send for him. During the last four years Tom lias often wished his wife would tall down stairi and brake her foolish head, for }he reason that the physicians and apothecary's make a serious inroad up on his fortune. About three months ago the com plained of a pain iv her side, and as u susl. the doctor was summoned : Af- ' tcr prescribing two or three bottles of different compounds—all harmless, but rather expensive he said: ' "All you want to assist medicine Mn affecting a cure Is a little rousing. Al though your ailment Is serious' it is ' not dangerous. Assume a little ener- 1 gy aud you will recover. Remember rouse your self." After the doctor retired the patient ' fancied that at last some serious disease ; was bcginlng to manifest itself, and, like a fool she went, to bed in ilispair- Tom understood the oase thorough- | ly, from long experience, and said men- ' tally : ' "She wants a rousing does she?— Well I'll give her a surprise that will ! startle her." Mrs. Hake, an attractive widow, was ' engaged toact lv the capacity of nurse ' to Mrs. li. The widow is young, buxom ' and amiable, and Tom thought her at tractive qualities might be available in ' giving the patient the necessary rous- ! ing. A short consultation with Mrs. Hake ' resulted in the arranngeiuentol apian, the execution of which was to induce ' Mrs. [G. |to ever afterwards throw physic to the dogs. I Late the next evening while the pa tient lay fretting aud groaning and announcing ln-i 'intention ol' giving up the ghost, Tom called Mia]Uakc aside and said to her in a whisper, but loud enough to be heard by the invalid : "l'oor Fanny ! she is about to die at last, and so you and I may as well ar range for our marriage."' Tom threw a glance over his shoulder as he spoke, and observed the dying pa tient ceased her groaning aud began to ' rouse herself. Arising quickly to a ' sitting posture in the bed to note every j word of the conversation, she started at them with eyes as big as small on ions boiled. "Twill be a reliefto her," continued Tom "for she has always been an inva lid. I too have suffered as well as she but with you tho picture of health as my wife happiness will be complete."' The widow threw herself upon Tom's shoulder, her arms about his neck, and began to chew his vest iv inoutliiiiUs to smother her laughter, "How soon shall we get married after she is dead ?" asked Tom, passing his arm around the widow's substantial waist. "Ijsupposc you will be willing to wait • a week or two ?" simpered Mrs. Hake, as she leaned her head on his shoulder and took another mouth full of vest. The invalid uttered an exclamation and landed on the floor. "You think that I am going to die do you?" she exclaimed. "I'll live to spite you both! And for you"—she turned and grasped Mrs. Hake by the hair—"out ot my house you designing vixen ! I'll act as my own nurse here after." .._ »««AJ From that day to this Mrs. G. has enjoyed good health, and Tom has en joyed good spirits; because he has not had a single doctor's bill to pay. He ' knew how to cure her ; For she only needed rousing, and Tom roused her. "THAT'S HOW!" A fter a great snow storm, a little fel- . low began to shovel a path through a j large snow bai.k before his grandmoth er's door. He had nothing but a small shovel to work with. "Row do you expect to get through that drift ?" asked a man passingalong. "By keeping at if," said the boy,cheet fully; "that's how !" That is the secret of mastcringalmost every difficulty under the sun. If a hard task is before you, stick to It. Do Hot keep thinking how large or hard it is; but go at it, and little, It will grow smaller until It is done. If a hard lesson is to be learned, do not spend a moment in fretting; do not lose a breath in saying. "I can't," or "1 do not sec how;" but go at it, and keep at it. Study. That Is the only way to conquer It. If a fault is to be cured, or a bad hab it broken up, it cannot be done by merely being sorry, or only trying a little. You must keep fiyhting it, und not give up lighting until it is got rid of. If you have entered your Master's service, and are trying lo be good and to do good, you will sometimes find hills of difficulty in the way. Things will oiten look discouraging, and you will not seem to make any progress at all; but keep at it. Never forget "that's howl" |C_y A Cornish jury once brought in the verdict, "Guilty, with some little I doubt as to wltether he wh the niaq*," LEAP YEAB. Eighteen sixty-eight is an important year on another account. It Is leap year. Of which fact 1 wish to remind the ladies. There is a division of opinions as to the right ofa woman to vote, but there can be no question as to her right to a husband, —if she can get one. Now Is our time. But I would advise young ladles not to be rash. Although it is leap year, you had bet ter look before you leap. Because ify ntget a husband and he don't suit you, you can't change him lor a better one, at least without going to Chicago. There are several considerations to be observed in the selection oi a hus band. Looks are a matter of Jtaste :—size, complexion and color of whiskers may be left to individual taste. They are ol less consequence than disposition and pecuniary resources. Particularly the resources. 1 wouldn't advise any young woman to marry a man who would expect her pa to support them. It is not a lair thing on the old gentle man, who had been looking forward to the marriage of his daughter as a happy release from milliners' bills. Never disappoint your parents. Young ladles need not inquire too particularly whether the man of I heir choice belongs to a lodge which meets four nights a week. She will find that -out after they are married. Husbands, like other domestic ani mals, when caught youtigcan sometimes be trained to do a good many useful tilings. They have even been known to get up in the morning and light the fire when the girl had gone away. There are some professions not ad visable to marry into. Such as editors, for they never get rich. Or reporters, who are never home at nights. Or politicians, who are not satisfied with one wife, but are always getting wedded to their country, and like most bigamists abuse both of their wives. But as the great object Is to get a hus band, and as the supply Is limited, it may not do to be too particular. NEVEB. "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee!" Let every believer grasp these words, store them up in his heart. Keep them read}', and have them fresh iv your mpmory; you will want them one day. The Philistines will be upon you, the hand of sickness will lay you low, the king of terrors will draw you near, the valley of the shadow of death will find nothing so comforting as a text like this, nothing so cheering as a realizing sense of God's companionship. Stick to that word "never." It is worth its weight in gold. Cling to it as a drowning man clings to a rope.— Grasp it firmly, as a scldier attacked on all sides grasps his sword. God has said, and He will stand to it, "I will never leave thee." "Never!'" Though your heart he of ten faint, and you are sica of self aud your many failures and infirmities— even then the promise will not fail you. "Never!" Though the devil whispers, ' "I shall have you at last; yet a little time and your faith will fail, and you will be mine." Even the word oi God will stand. "Never!"' When the cold chill of death is creeping over you, aud friends can do no more, aud you are starting o.i that journey from which there is no return—even then Christ will uot for sake you. "Never /" When the day of judg ment comes, and the books are opened, and the dead arc rising from their graves, and eternity is beginning—even then tlic promise will bear all your weight; Christ will uot leave His hold on your soul. O, believing reader, trust in the Lord forever, for He says, "I will never leave you." Lean back all your weight up on him; do uot be afraid. Glory in his promise. Uejoice iv tlic strength of your consolation. You may say bold ly, "The Lord is my helper, I will not fear."— Hyle. DEBT. Debt is a perfect bore. How it haunts a man from pillar to .post; lurk'n.g in his breakfast cup, poisoning dinner, embittering his tea ! now it stalks lrom him like a living, moving, skeleton, seeming to announce his presence by recounting the amount of liabilities.— 1 How it poisons its domestic joys, by 1 introducing its infernal "ballauce" In to the calculation of madam respecting tlie. price of a new carpet, or a new dress! How It hinders dreamy plans for speculations, and cripples resoltt • tlons too good to be fulfilled. At bed aud board, by night or day, 1 in joy or grief, in health or sickness, at ' home or abroad, debt—grim, gaunt aud 1 shadowy, tails as an encumbrance. As no presence is too sacred, no ground is ' too holy to deter the memory of "bills 1 and notes payable" from taking imnie -1 diate posessiou t so no record is enliven- I ing, no reminisence niore than the con i sciousness that debt has fallen like a L January morning, twenty-nine de _ grees below zero. jC__P Tlie lirst evidence ofa woman's i interest iua man is her mending his ■ gloves, and last working him a pair of ' slippers. THE NATIVE VIRGINIAS. is rriiLirtiii.i) .wkkkly nr Dr. G. W. Bafby *, A. r. Stofer. tbbms of scßscTrTrnow'! One Copy 3 month*. (I etf '.'. :. ,; :; 175 it " : six) t'lul.H of live, one year 12 so i Hubs of t.-n, one year,,... ," _~.|500 Clubs of twenty, one year, > '"__"T"_bHHI a - *-Voluntary cm mmm lent inn*, contain In Interesting or Important news,solicited from any qunrter. *»- it. J.-.-I ni communications we can no uiulertiike to retnrn. 3»*-Obltuary notices exceeding five lines will be charged lbr at our regular advertis ing rntcs. 33-All letters on business connected with theofllce, must be addressed to the "Native Virginian." I I ■MWMM__M_______________________________________________________________| tThc fmw and &artUtw HOW TO HAKE MONEY FARMING. The question of labor Is beginning to assume a proportion of considerable im portance. Hitherto th>; fanner lias of fered the laborer one-third the products ofthe soil as hire and many Ilnd them selves making nothing at it, while cm the other hand, the freedtnan Is com plaining that "he can't live at one third." Nor can he live on one-third ot the produce of a poorly managed and bad conditioned farm. Tho only help for It, in our opinion, Is : Ist. Not to plant one loot of land that Is utimantired. 2nd. To hire only so many laborers, and to keep as many horses as are ab solutely necessary. 3rd. To pay the laborers, not in tho produce/if the farm, but In money, 4th. To hire laborers by.the month. sth.__To fecd'stock on clover, oats, turnips, &c.,Jand about twenty, bushels of chopped corn per annum. - b'th. To make use of ;the Implements of the age, and exercise a wise judg ment In the selection and rotation of crops. 7th. To rent all surplus lauds at a lair rate. Bth. To make use of white labor as far as possible. 9th. To practice the strictest ecouo my. 10th. To farm in person, not by proxy. Mr. Editor, if any of your readers will adopt the abovo method tor Tann ing 1 will guarantee to them : Ist. Surplus money at the end ofthe year. 2nd. Hati-taction with the gifts ot Providence. 3rd. Health, pleasure and] profit.— Farm and Garden, MOIL FOB A VINEYAHD. The Northern Ohio Grape Grower's Association in its late report says : Contrary to the Idea entertained at the commencement of grape culture In this country, it is now tbc opinion of a majority of vignorens that a dry soil pro duces the best wine, especially with the Catawba grape. Stlffclay ispreferred. The soil should be dry, hence under draining is often a necessity. Bandy soil Is probably the next best. Clay crests that crop out of gravelly or sandy districts aro excellent. Manuring is also discarded. Most experienced growers now consider manure an inju ry when wine is the object ol produc tion. The vino will bear abundantly a long time, ami remain healthy on a soil too poor for common tanning.— Manuring may spoil a vineyard. Wo remember a notable instance of tho truth of this in a vineyard which pro duces the far-famed Jobanisberger, sit uated on the Rhine. A proprietor oiico had it heavily dunged, and the quality was perceptibly injured for many years following, though the yield was in creased. The wine makers state that the most of grapes grown on the up land clay soils is richer than that, from the flatter lands of the .Lake Islands, or horn sandy soils. LANS OCCUPIED BY FENCES. Mr. J. Harris, iv the American Agri culturalist, thus speaks of laud lost by lences : How much land does an old fashion ed teuce occupy ? 1 have always thought it took a great deal of land, but never hud the curiosity to measure. But this summer we have been building a stone wall along the whole west side of the farm, and the old teuce removed, 1 was surprised at the quantity of land we had gained. Tlic ground, of course, might have been plowed closer to the fence, but taking the ease as it actually was, the old rail fence, with stones, weeds, rubbish, etc., occupied a strip ot land one rod wide. A field, thirty one rods long and thirty-one wide, con tains about six acres. If surrouuded by such a fence it would occupy a little over three quarters of an acre of land. A farm of one hundred and sixty acres so fenced would have twenty acres of land taken up in this worse than use less manner. Not only Is the use of the land lost, but it Is, In the majority of cases, a nursery of wced3, and in ploughing, much time is lost in turn ing, aud the headlands and corners an* seldom pi'opeily cultivated. BUTTSH-aIAKING IN WINTKB. For some unknown reason, cream skimmed in cold weather does uot come so quickly as that from the same cow in warm weather. Perhaps the httle sacks of butter In the cream are thicker and tougher. There are two ways of obviating this : One is, to set the milk on the stove, or some warm phice, when strained, and let It remain until quite warm—some say until a bubble or two rises, or until cream begins to rise.— Another mode is to add a teaspoonful of salt to a quart of cream when skim med. Cream thus prepared generally comes In a few minutes when churned. It is thought the salt acts upon the but ter-globules and makes them tender, so that they will break more easily when churned.— Boston I'nliivator. POTATO SALAD. Boil, till done, six Iri h potatoes and six white onions, separately ; prepare asaueeoft'vo ounces of butter; pep per same to suit the taste, and add to it a pint of vinegar; slice a layer of 1 onions and one oi potatoes alternately 1 into a deep dish; have the struce very f hot, and pour over them. Very good to any one who likes onion*.