The home journal., November 04, 1858, Image 1

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HOM
JOURNAL.
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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.