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HOM JOURNAL. r i Volume II. ' WINCHESTER,. . TENN.,' NOVEMBER 4, 1858. Number 42. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY EVENING AT TWO DOLLARS TEB ANNUM. V. J. SliATTER, Uditor. Nt4r4 to 10 Party' arbllrarj away, We follow Tmlk wkcre'cr ake leads the way.' JJ3" Subscriptions for a shortor time than one year must be paid in advance. gSjJ1 When credit for (lie paper is giv en to the end of the year three dollars will be invariably charged. JJSiT Heroafior no club subscriptions t less than the regular price ($2) will be received. However, when a club of Ave subscribers is sent us, we will allow an extra copy gratis to the gettor up of the club. ("Single copies sold at 10 cents. AGENTS VOn THIS JOU11NAI,. S. At. PETTINGILL & CO New York. JOHN P. HEFNER, Wincliector. GEO. E. PURVIS McMinnvillo T J. CUMMINGS,.... I'ulltilmnin. JOHN B. RHODES Sliulbyville- i- .-. NEWSPAPER LAW. I AU eubacrlhera who tlo nut give exprraa unllrA to the contrary are considered aa wishing tu cuntinuo t lit-i r ultacri)tiona. 2. If aulisr.rineraordiir the illacnntinuanca of tlicir pa era. the publisher may continue tu aend them until ar rearagna are paid. 3. If auhatrilmra neglect or refuse to take I heir pnjiers from the poat ollice to which tlitiy arn sent, they are hHtl reaponaible until the hills are Bellied, and their papers ordered to be diacontinucd. The Soul's Appeal. 1 have not wealth, to crown thy brows With precious wreaths of pearls; I may not bind the diamond's light, Within thy glossy curls; I have not gold to purchase robes From India's mystic loom, I cannot bring the foreign plants, Ofgorgeous, costly bloom. My home is not whero fashion dwells, In halls of burnished gold, Not yet, beneath the ivied roof, Of kindly castles old; I've but a simple forest cot, Hung o'er by whispering trees, Where golden sunbeams pause to rest, Amid tho downy leaves. Yet I have dared to kneel to thee, Though humble born, ami poor, . I'll give to thee the truest heart, That ever maiden wore! Oh, give lo m but thy sweet love 'Tis all my spirit rtaves; I'll lean around thee as (he shorn, Leans round the beating waves. For thy sweet sake, I'll labor on, Till fame shall wreathe my brow, And wealth and pride, before my shrino, Their haughty heads shall bow! Anil thou shalt lay thy tender form, Upon my heart to rest jVly soul would swell with mighty strength, With thee upon my breast! Thou wilt be mine! I know I feel, I read it in thine eye, And my heart's vow is heard and known, And registered on high! For thee I'll brave the roughest storm, And love the hardest fate If thou art near to cheer me on, My spiiit's noble mate! MADELEINE. A HEART HISTORY. CONTINUED. Nor. A reward of fvl) was offered aome time ainre in the Home Journal lor I lie hral Original Story wiitlen lor ita columns. Several wura written, and altera peiu mil of each, "Madai.ki.nk a llaAiir llinoiiv," was con aidered the moal drwrviiie. II" t)le ia lmde Jt lau. tilul, and that all will be highly interested we have nut a .aingle doubt. ltai-iou. Around my home, that was to hp, when my Eve should make it ft Para dise with her delightful presence, I ' ihad gathered every heautiful plant, .and shrub of the country and wood and garden-bower, pure stream and .rippling- lake combined, to make it one of the loveliest spots my eyes have ever beheld. It 'was finished com ( jplete, all but the furnishing of my pleasant cottage, and the installing of ' my heart-treasure there, as the chief . feature of its attractions. My plans were all matured. A week more and I was to start. I would visit you on my (way to see my parents, lay bare the secret, accumulated love of all those ff .severed years, and entreat you to share with me the weal, or wo of a change- ful existence. 1 had thought of you so ? constantly, having you always in my mind, making sqnm portion of all my plans for the future, whatever they might be. I felt that you knew and un- J dcrstood me so well, and knowing and ' understanding me so pcrlectly as it , ''aeemed to me you did, and writing so ; kindly as you had ever done in reply ' . to my letters, I never, for one moment supposed it possible you could do I aught but respond to the cry of my yearning heart, when I should say, Madcleine, through all these years 1 a'mce Jast we met, I have never seen anotLerthan your dear self, I have i never given a thought to any but you. If I have been in company with oth ; ers, and fair maidens, they have been so far below you in my estimate, that I I J can scarcely be laid to have seen them at all. Their low, merry, win ping voices have waked no echoing 1 tone, their bright and beaming glances met no answering look, the soft sigh i fngs of love's gentle gale, and friend- fb'p' porcr breath, have beard, not one responso, To all, save you, this heart has been but ice and rock. To you, it has been the warm, genial soil, in which you, and your memory have planted the seeds of all that is of no ble and manly growth in my charac ter. Nourish them, Madeleine, Give yourself, heart and soul into my keep ing, that I may be cheered by your smile and nerved to exertion by your virtues. I will never prove unworthy "of the trust." Such, many, many times was the purport of rny thoughts of you, and the happy meeting I anticipated. One thing only would I keep from you. Tho home I had prepared, the cot tage I had built, and the furnituro which was to he sent on and placed in order for your arrival, were to be a pleasant surprise, and 0! how many times did I imagine your exclamations of delight at tho beauties of the place. Again, and again had I looked, at va rious times, to seo if anything was wanting, and though. 1 doubted not your superior, and more delicate taste, might suggest some improvement, I felt that I could not. Iu a week I said I was to start. The week had dwin dled to a day. Every thing was in readiness for my departure. My trunk was packed. It was tho last night I was to remain in my unfurnished house, unfurnished all but rny bache lor's room, for as the building was com pleted 1 had made it my habitation. A small fire was burning on the hearth, for though it was early sum mer it was chilly, for there had been rain thiough the day. I sat by the cheerful blaze, and louking in my mind's eye at the pleasant future 1 was picturing, I need not say it wore a ro sy hue. 1 know not how long I had sat there, merged in those delightful fancies, when I was roucd by the opening of the door of my bachelor's sanctum, by Tom, the boy who usual ly waited on me. He handed me a letter. 1 bade him lay it on the table and sitt as before, musing most pleas antly and quietly on the near ap proaching completion of my wishes, the fullillmeiit of my dearest hopes. My reverpwasso delightful I could not bear to be interrupted, and 1 re mained in the same pleasing state an hour, perhaps more. At last the .strik ing of the clock on tho mantle an nounced that it was ten o'clock. It was time to lay my head upon my pil low. 1 had been very busy, this, my last day, at my lonely home, and was somewhat weary, though the so near attainment of my wishes seemed to make all the fatigues of body and all the vexation of spirit I had endured for the last four years, of no occouut. It was finished, I had succeeded bet ter than I expected in the business 1 had undertaken, and at twenty-four was a comparatively wealthy man. The land I had secured was much of it in time likely to prove very valua ble, for a railroad was in progress, which would pass directly through it, and a little distance from the spot 1 had selected for my own residence, was to be loented a depot and a town was already springing up around it. My worldly prospects were, bright, almost too bright. I bad not the slightest doubt, that night, of my spee dy possession of the prize which had for years been tho moving principle of all my exertions. I was happy, perfectly so, for once, in anticipation. I never remember for one moment, in my whole life, experiencing such a feeling of deep, quiet, entire repose and satisfaction, as I felt that night in reviewing the past and anticipating the future. Not one cloud, not one shadow of disappointment, dimmed my delight ful prospective. Hut rcllecting, after awhile, that I was tired and needed rest, I concluded if I should go to bed I could find that there, even if I could not sleep, and I could think as well up on my pillow as in my chair before the fire. I had forgotten tho letttcr Tom brought in, but as I rose from my seat I saw it lying where tho boy had drop ped it. My first impulse, even then, was not to read it, for I supposed it perhaps was some business commu nication and 1 was in too happy a mood to be disturbed by anything which seemed, just then, to be of so little importance, but it occurring to me that I had not heard from you in a longer timo than usual I took it in my hand and looked at the post-mark. In a moment I had torn it open. It was from my sister Sarah, and she would tell me of and about you. I sat down again to read it. I had no presentimnetof evil, but.my pleasure was the rather enhanced by the idea of hearing from you once more before I could see you faoo lo face. I never read that letter Madeleine, only enough to know my cup of hap piness was taken from my lips and giv en to another, and I was left alone. My homo was henceforth to be deso late. If tiro frosts of January had fallen upon the buds and blossoms of the glorious midsummer, its frosted garlands, its ice-nipped greenness, would have been but faint emblems of my stripped and blasted heart. I will not pain you by the recital of what I suffered. I was, at first stun ned, almost to insensibility; I was con scious of an icy dullness at my heart as if cold fingers held it with a death grip, a reeling, rushing sensation came over me, everything was spinning round, and I was on the farthest verge of tho universe, u horrible gulfywan ing for im5 when I should be thrown oil', and the utmoHtVxortion was nec essary to avert the fall which must sooner or later await me. It came, I lost my grasp and was gone. 1 re member nothing more for weeks. In the morning I was to he culled at an early hour to be in readiness for my journey. Tom found me on the hearth where I had fallen and ut first sup- i i it.. i ii I posou me ueuu. JJUt mo taooreu, yei slight breathing, tho motionless, yet still pliant limbs told him of life re maining, though a life that threaten ed to depart from the tenement to which it belonged, for the ear neither listened, nor the voice responded to his call. A physician was sent for, but his science was at fault. There was no clue lo the cause of my slMiige dis ease, for when 1 fell, the letter proba bly dropped from my nervless grasp into tilt; lire and had been consumed. The servants could only inform him that their master was as well as usu al tins night before, and in high spirits it the prospect of a pleasant journey At length Tom rcool'iccteil having ! brought me a letter the night before, which he had laid upon the table. It was sought lifter and could not be found. My physician wisely conjec tured that it must have contained in formation of a peculiarly afflictive character. but of what nature he was utterly unable lo conjecture. IJut be j with all his attributes of goodness, was a skilful practitioner, and a man j mercy and love, was but a necessity of tender and delic He feelings. He , of her nature ami to her, il was a mys soon saw that my disease had ils ori- ; I cry how any one could feel otherwise rin in tho mind, and wisely refrained towards a beinyr, who seemed to her from blood-lettings, purging, blisters and calomel, but ordered frequent bathing, riding and other exercise iu the open air, with a mild and ntilri tiotis diet, and ordered my attendants, on no account, to say or do anything which might, by any possibility, irri tate, or distress me. I was as a little child. Had no will of my own. Did passively, as I was bid, for my own powers of volition seemed to have been paralyzed. lint, gradually, un der such kind, judicious treatment. J recovered my usual apparent strength and health, but that peculiar trust and confidence whichjiad been so promi nent an element in my hopeful organ ization, was gone forever. 1 looked with distrust on everybody ami every thing. A settled gloom was every where. If I gazed at the heavens, which, heretofore, seemed so bright and glorious, they seemed to frown up on me if I walked in the grand, old forest, the murmuring of the whisper ing leaves, so pleasant, so delicious be fore, seemed now a threatening sound. If I looked upon the countenances of those I had deemed friends, and loved to greet as such, it seemed as if all their pleasant, sympathizing smiles and kindly word.--, were but a cunning mask to hide the dark deceit within. Even God, whom 1 had, confidently, worshipped in the trust and joyous nessof my own glad nature as a be ing of love and mercy, I now regarded as astern, inflexible judge, who cared less to sec his creatures happy and to forgive their wanderings, than to punish them for their errors and make tlieiu atone for their faults. J could no longer go to him ns my consoler, coun sellor friend, but turned from him as a rigorous, unfeeling judge, who had cast me, not only f rom his presence, but hud banished inc from all that was exce llent and valuable in his creation. I began to doubt, even, if there was a God, at all, feeling, at times, if there was such a being he would never have permitted me to have been deprived of all I held dear; of all which 1 had regarded with such untiring love.such earnest devotion. O! how much more had I worship ped the creature than the Creator, and how was I punished ? Truly that punishment was greater than I could bear. At this time, when my mind was in this strangely altered, unhappy con dition, I became acquainted with Em ily Gaskill. There were several in telligent families of refined and culti vated manners in the neighborhood in which I resided, but among them none were more so than that of Col. Gas kill. Emily was the eldest of three children, her brothers being much younger than she was. Two sisters, und another brother between her und George tho elder of the remaining brothers, were sleeping in a forest grave, having fallen early victims to one of those epidemics which so fre quently prevail in the settlement of a new country. She was one of those quiet, gentle creatures, never formed for tho stern, battling activity of life, but who are only fitted for the peaceful repose of the homo fire-side. She never laugh ed. Nothing more than a pleasant, and yet, even then, an almost sad smile ever sat upon her pale, Madonna-like features; she spoke iu low, soft, soothing tones and moved with n gen tle, easy grace, but so softly, so quiet ly, you never heard the echo of her foot-fall. I did not love her. 1 could not, but the quiet gentleness of her manner had in it something for me, just then, peculiarly attractive. I could not bear a laugh. It was discor dant to my feelings. K quick move ment, or a rapidly spoken word, dis turbed me, and everything she did and said, was just as I felt, was done and said, just in that culm, soothing man ner that my extreme nervous excita bility demanded. There was that in her presence that calmed the agita tion of my spirit, that dilfused a sooth ing influence around my troubled pathway, and consequently I was hap pier when with her, than when alone. She was also devotedly pious, not that sort of piety which is fond of making a display, but that unalloctod. unobtrusive piety which, without ever intending to manifest itself to others, yet exercises such a sway over the life and conduct of its possessor, .'is to throw an additional charm around a 1 lovely woman, and bestow a livelier ; grace upon every action she per- tonus. j She knew of my religions gloom, I of my doubts and my trials, though I nothing of the cause of tliem, Hep I, own fervent, earnest, belief in God, so full of gracious favor towards the children of men. As our acquaintance progressed, for contrary to all my previous habits of seclusion from society, I became a constant visitor at Col. Gaskills, while Emily with the winning tones of a modest, timid maiden, who felt for my unhappy con dition, strove to convert me from the error ol my ways; but like many another, who has hated sin but to love ie sinner, 1 saw, though late, that she had given unsought her guileless mai den ali'ections into my keeping. Yet think not that I discovered it from any imuiaidenly manifestation. Far from it. llcr transparent nature could cou- ' wl" nothing. 1 learned it from na tural, unmistakable signs, from the sudden Hushing of the cheek, and the involuntary brightening of the eye at my approach, from the perturbation and evident restraint that came over her when wo were left alone, as it sometimes happened that we were for a few moments. They were certain evidences that feeling was at work, and 1 at last no ticed them and began to consider what was to be done. Tho Col. and his wife, naturally enough, began to sup pose I must have some motive iu com ing there so often, though I could scarcely have been considered, by any one having an exact knowledge of my condition at that time, an accountable man. My friends were exe lingly anxious I should marry and settle qui etly down in my own country, for some of them were afraid that, as soon as 1 had finished the work for which I had left home, my old missionary fa naticism, as they called it, would re turn upon me. No fear of that now, I no longer cared to serve God, or my fellow-creatures. IJut I have said there was a charm to me in Emily's presence, and I some times felt that she was perhaps to be the instrument of my earthly and ctcr nnl salvation. We were married qui etly in her mother's parlor, -with no witnesses, save her parents and broth crs and a maiden aunt, who wus vis iting fu the family. Col. Gaskill was a man of considerable property, and as Emily was a dearly beloved child, and as he was highly pleased with her marriage, would have been glad to have made a display of his delight and affection by making a grand wedding and inviting half the county, at least, but Emily, seeing how painful such a course of proceeding would be to me, who shrank, not only, from a crowd, but even from tho presenco of one stranger, begged him to let me have it all my own way. So in two years from tho time I bad hoped, with a heart full of joy and keenly alive to every perception of the beautiful and excellent, to have led another to the lovely homo 1 had prepared for her, Emily Gaskill cross ed its thrcshhold as my wife, while I with my terrible wounds, but partial ly healed, tried to beleive I might, at last be happy, that in my marriage with her, the Lures and Penates of my household were secured, Mistaken, now again. They had been ravished from my heart, and how could I expect them to sit at my hearthstone! For a little time, at first, I was more tranquil in feeling, more calm in man ner, but as my mind, more and more regained its natural strength and vig or, 1 found myself, unaware, institut ing compurions between herself and you. She was artless and natural, truthful and allectionate, and sincere ly pious, but she lacked both energy and will, had scarcely ever an opin ion, or wish of her own. so that even her piety was that of the child, rath er than the woman, and was, there fore, perfectly charlerless iu my ac ceptation of the term. If I could once have seen her struggling with a wrong feeling, or a temptatien of any sort and nobly conquering; if with all her love for me, I could have seen that she sometimes yielded an inclination, or a simple preference, I should have fell more drawn towards her, more closely allied with her, but she never seemed to have the one, or the other. So 1 was pleased, that was enough. I sometimes tried to see il she really felt so little choice in matters which sometimes came up for decision by first proposing one plan and then another, until every possible one hud been presented. Her assent was always, invariably, given to whichev er should please me. How many times did I u ish she would object, kindly and mildly of course, as a wo man and a w ile should, but from a con viction that the course proposed was not the best which under existing eir cums:auces could be adopted, and bringing forward another, place it be fore me for consideration and state, her own arguments iu its lavor. My mind was too weak any way, ami it needed more nourishing aliment than it could liinl. It was being starved upon an excess of sweets. Wa."ii:d. One hundred ami seventy-five young men, of all shapes and sizes, from the tall, graceful dandy, with hair enough on his upper works to stull'a barber's cushion, down to the little upstart. The object is to form a Gapping Corps, to be iu attendance at the Church doors on each Sabbath, be fore the commencement of divine ser vice, to stare at the females as they enter, and make, delicate and gentle manly remarks on their persons and dress'. All who wish to enlist in the above Corps, will please appear at the various church doors next Sabbath morning, where they will bo duly in spected, and their names, personal ap pearance mid quantity of brains reg istered in a book kept for that pur pose, and published in the newspapers. To prevent a general rush it will be well lo state that none will be enlisted who possess intellectual capacities above that of an ordinary well bred monkey. It is really a gratification and a pleasure to us to announce the favor and patronage with which the Home Journal is meeting. We arc encour aged, and encouragement is a potent incentive to exertion. We believe we state the truth when we say that our atldition of subscribers for two mouths past will average two per day, while, for the same time wc have not had a single discontinuance. And nearly every mail brings us a remittance and a subscriber, and compliments of the neat appearance of the paper no blurs und blots, hut clear, lively print, and large enough for the eye to read with comfort. Never before have we so nearly pleased everybody, and this day tho Home Journal is indeed a welcome a wished-lor visitor to ma ny families. In response to our call for each subscriber to furnish us one additional, some eight or ten have un fiwered all of them old men, stand ards of the best society in Franklin county, who have been our good and accommodating friends all the time. Hut our appeal to the Bchool girls in onr town has so far availed nothing. Young ladies, your parents at home would be pleased with the Home Journal. Make up a club amongst yourselves, and we will have the pa per left at your boarding houses every week, or we will mail it to your homes regularly in a good envelope and only charge two dollars per annum. And we would reiterate our cull on every subscriber to send us one addi tional. Wc hare a good oumbcr subscribers in Texas and Arkansas, and in Mississippi most of whom were onco residents of " Old Frank lin". Will they not throw in their aid to increase our subscription? Just send us one namo, each of yorj. Our list is already greater, by 350 or 4u0, than any paper ever before had in Winchester, but we want morej not only for their money, but because, too, we love to talk to a big number every week. It makes us feel good, and prompts us to praiseworthy efforts. Then let tho Journal continue to prosper, until it becomes known and received unto the ends of the earth until an interest in it shall be worth a fortune. Fact to iiuIiMii:mihu:i. Every busi ness man and mechanic who has a proper appreciation as the true mode of doing business, ought to have im pressed upon his memory the fact that no man should be delieale about asking what is properly his due. If he neg lects doing so, he is deficient in the spirit of independence wich be should observe in all actions. Rights are rights, and if not granted should be demanded. The selfish world is little inclined lo give one his own, unless he have the manliness to claim it. The lack of proper fulfillment of this prin ciple has lost to many fortune, fame and reputation. Occasionally a custom er who is less a gentleman than an up start, puis on haughty airs, and affects to he insulted at . beingdunnedformon ey that he ought to have paid long be fore. Xo matter. Tin; laborer is wor thy of his hire. Whenever a business man resolves to pay promptly and he paid, he puts in practice a correct prin ciple. Shun a man who doesn't pay his compliments tu the women. He who is wanting in honor towards curls, will invariably attempt to dodge the store keeper, tailor and butcher. Faithless ness to the dimity institution is a sure sign of a want of principle, piety, and and a good bringing up. lisiuTi, Mux. Wo never sec n genuinely bashful man who was not the very soul of honor. Though such may blush and stammer and shrug their shoulders awkwardly, unable to throw forth with ease the thoughts that they would express, yet commend them to us for friends. There are fine touches iu their char acters that time will mellow and bring out, perceptions as delieato as the faintest tint is to the unfolded rose; anil their thoughts arc none the less refined and beautiful that they do not How with the impetuosity of the shal low streamlet. We arc astonished that such men are not appreciated that ladies with really good hearts and cultivated in tellects will reward Sir Mustaehio liraiuless with smiles and attention, because he can fold a shawl graceful ly and bandy compliments with Pa risian elegance, while they will not condescend to look on the worthier m;in, who has for them a reverence so great that every mute glance is worship. A suit has been commenced by the United States, iu the I'nited States Circuit Court of California, to recover the icw Alinaden quick-silver mines, situated in Santa Clara county. The property is worth forty millions dol lars, and the annual profits arc about one million of dollars. The suit may be considered one of the most gigantic ever commenced in America, and will involve litigations for a number of years. A couple of yankec gills put a bell- frog iu the hired man's bed to sec if they couldn't get him to talk. Daniel threw it out of the window and never said a word. Soon after he put half a bushel of chesnut-lmfrs in the girls, bed, and about the time he thought they would make the least shadow, Daniel went to the door and rattled the door-latch furiously. Out went the candle, and in went the girls; but they didn't stick, though tho burrs did. Calling to them, he begged them to be quiet, for he only wanted to know if they'd " seen anything of that pesky bullfrog, llc'd gin two dollars to find it!" Marrying for Money. In speaking P ! l f: nr. .(..ill oi marriages lor money, iuiss iu the eminent writer, observes; Marriages ought always fo bo a question not of necessity, but choice. Every girl ought to be that a hasty, loveless union, itapms upon her as foul dishonor one of those con nections which oil the kgal cere mony together, and that, however loaf be, unhappy married life roust be mnfafinn Atwl injttl )m ans). H torment from which there is no cs capo but death," ( Boys' Names. Last week we published some "hits" on girls' names, so this week we publish a littlo advice in regard to hoys'numcs: Young lady, if you would be an in dependent, go-ahead, care-for-noth-ing, fearless woman if you would have your own way about matters and things, and not always ask per mission of your leige lord, be sure to marry a man by the name of William for then you would most certainly have a Will of your own. If you are gay, srprightly, fun-love-ing girl, fond of show and dress; if you wish to lead the van in fashion and display, and wear the most beau tiful fabrics, regardless of expense, see to it that you get a husbaud that wont grumble. If you would do this, just marry a man that calls himself Abel; you may then feel sure that he will be able to meet all emergencies. If you would shun a mean, con temptible grumbler, one who would always wish you to give an account for every 'live cents that you spend, ono who would bo for ever telling you what an expensive wite you were and just how many dollars you use need lessly, only take up with a man whose watch-word is udd'em (Adam) If you arc a peaceable, loving, gen tle girl, who would as soon die as live in a quarrel, don't for tho world min gle with those who would delight to get you mixed up in a muss (Amos.) Those good, old, doting parents had better keep a sharp look out for that, bold, daring energetic youth, that has fallen in love with their beautiful daughter, for ho is just tho chap that his name indicates, and if he cannot get her in any other way, he will a wait a good opportunity and seize her (Ca-sar.) If you are at all inclined to coquet, try don't marry a jealous man by tho name of Hubert, for you may he sure that your admirers would be very apt to get Bob in a round, (bobbin a round.) A sensitive, proud spirited girl should beware of the namo Peter; if they are not. as hard-harted as a rock, they will be worthless fellows for ever body knows thatie (Pete) is a vegetable substance, lit for nothing but fuel. That woman should persevere, who has her eye fixed upon a particular mark, (Mark:) she has the good book to encourage tier; wich says, "press forward towards tho mark, for the prize." Every Martha should try to find a Matthew; thus we should see a well matched pair ol' mats, (Malts) things very dillieult to find now-a-days. U is very dangerous for an ardent, allectionate girl to fall in love with youths who bears the name of John for, they have from lime immemorial, declared themselves unmarriageble. John"the beloved" was an old bachelor. How to Do it. There is good sense in the following advice to young men and women who are thinking of matrimony. It is an article by Grant Thorburn. "There is nothing to bo gained in dangling for a twelve month, after a sensible woman, talking unmeaning .stulf words without wisdom. Tell her your wjsh like a man, and not like a blithering schoolboy. She will nev er trille with your ali'ections; and if there arc three grains of common sense iu your mucklc carcass, she will bo your own before a month has passed. Seo the history of Rebecca, in Genesis, S-ith chapter, 50th verse. When Abraham's servant had conclu ded the preliminary contract with Mrs. I.ahau, on the part of her daugh ter, to become the wife of Isaac, the old man was anxious to get home to show his young master the bonny lass ho had brought him, the old mother wished him to remain a few days, to recruit himself and his cam els. He persisting, it was finally refer ed to the daughter. 'We will call tho damsel, and inquire at her mouth,' said the mother. When Rebecca ap peared, her mother asked, 'Wilt thou go with this man?' itebecca replied, 'I will go.' "There was a noble girl for you. -No tear starting from her black eyes, no whining nor simpering make-believe, nor mock modesty; but what her heart wished, her lips uttered. Like an honest maiden, she replied, 'I will go.' Now young ladies, go thou and do likewise. When tho man whom you prefer before all others in the world; says, "Will you go with me?" answer, "I will go." "liy-thc-bye, ladies, when you wish, to rend a true, simple and unsophisti cated love storv. just read over the twenty-fourth chapter of Genesis. Cure tor ERVsifEtAS. A correspon dent of the Providence Journal says that in ninety-nine cases' out of every hundred, cranberries applied as & poultice will eflectually cure the ery sipelas. There is not an instance inown where it has failed to effect a cure when faithfully applied, before the sufferer was in a dying state. Two or three applications generally do the work. We know of some persons who are afflicted with this distressing disease, and have copied the paragraph for their benefit It is simple and well worthy of a trial. . , Some of our exchanges say Hon. Tom. Cowin, of Ohio, ii to go to Illinois, lo emiv"'" Douglas.