The home journal., November 18, 1858, Image 1

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HO'M
RNAL.
A
Oil
Volume II.
W. J. BLATTER, liditor.
rieiiref rsrtirl MhllKiT away.
We toll Tralk vkere'er ike leUa (be way.'
WrttUn tot Uw Winchester Ilomg Journal.
THE DESCRIPTION.
v mi. inEMi r nuAvro
There li t charm in that sweet voice, a
fire in that dark eye,
That ever lures me, though I would all
Love's enticements fly,
-And when I'd turn away, that thrilling
voice's witching tone
Steals on mine ear so touchingly, my
cares and fears are flown.
That form, 'tis more than beauty's mould,
'tis perfect symmetry,
And all the modelled charms of old, would
quick before it flee,
frr all of Earth, or Heaven, that's fair
is in that form combined,
Each grace of feature sparkles there, each
beauty of the mind.
That brow, like to a spotless page where
purest thoughts are seen,
No furrows there of wrinkling age, or
passions dark have been,
(High, broad and fair, and ehaJed by those
locks of glossy brown,
Nought there but sunshine bright and
clear no darkly withering frown.
The eyes, those mirrors of the soul
what sweet affection dwells
Within that circle, wildly bright, yet
soft as the gazelle's!
01 there's a witchory there, exceeding
e'en the Poets dream,
"When melting into tenderness, its wild
est, brightest, beam.
Could aught of beauty captivate, or win
the guileless heart,
There is enough of loveliness but that
must soon depart;
And what shall then retain the love that
glowed in Beauty's hours?
What when the radiant charms of youth
shall loose their pleasing powers?
0! there's a heart that's richer than the
depths of Plutus' mine,
Where all that's good, and nobly great,
their excellence combine;
A heart that feels the wants and woes of
all its fellow men
For in it love to God and man in closest
union reigns.
But then the mind, the immnrtul mind,
endowed with learning's gifls
There, naught that's low or groveling
-dwells; the soul it ever lilts
To holy, high and lofiy things, it soars
from Eanh away;
Its gentle fancies, pure and bright.no place
have here to stay.
0! there'a a witchery in that form and face
so near divine,
They're slill before me though I would
erase them from my mind;
And when I would forget them all, that
bright eye's flushing ray
Bids fond end faithful memory resume
her wonted sway.
Written for the Winchester Home Journal.
A HEART HISTORY.
CONCLUDED.
Last winter, at my boarding-house,
ti gentleman was one of the inmates
for some few weeks from the South,
the very neighborhood in which you
live, though so completely had I lost
sight of you as not to know where it
was.
One morning we were all thrown
into a state of excitement and con
aternation by learning that one of our
fellow-boarders had been found dend
in his bed. He had gone to his room
as well as usual, the night before, and
not coming at the customary hour to
his breakfast, a servant was dispatch
ed to learn if he was unwell. He
was cold and stifT.
The verdict of the inquest held up
on his body was: "'died by visitation
of God," and the attendant physicians,
f which there were two or three,
there being that many in the boarding
tSouse, gave it as their opinion that
there was probably some disease of
he heart. That night, as all of us
fTcre conversing about the sudden
sieath of our acquaintance and fellow
boarder, Mr. , the gentleman
jCjora the south, related the circumstan
ces of your husband's death and infer
that it 'was very likely the cases
ters similar. ' It was the first news
1 had heard of you for some years,
av i at first I could scarcely believe it
T l of the . same Mr. Raymond he
l speaking, to whom, many years
t re, I knew you 'had been married.
I. after a few questions on my part
sic. corresponding answers on bis, I
fcoaw it must be the very-same. And,
t how I longed to see you. I did not
sleep ft . moment that night till day
,; WM dawning. Then I fell (or an hour
'- M en tntn m -ntikl.J l 1 -
. tr impulse oo waking was to start
Immediately to see you. But that I
Vnlrl not An. Thnt f r-
4 " 1 I ' 1. 1 . ' t a
: ess nau dccd unuauauy protracted,
, ;t it was nearly closed. . I could not
kve till it was over. Then I would
. l rite to yot. and tell you all how I
' ii loved you, how I had lost you,
4 how I longed to see jod again
MA I
and beg of you not now to spurn my
love. But that would not do. You
had forsaken mo in vour girlhood.
You had married another whom, no
doubt you had greatly preferred to mc,
and how did I know such a letter,
from onn for whom you no longer per
haps eared at all, would be favorably
received? Nay, rather would it not
be thought to bo great presumption
and effrontery in me to write suelt a
one?
I knew not what course to take but
I must do something. I could not hope
to see you under two months, at least,
and I could not possibly endure to have J spirit, when it seemed as if she was
no communication with you till that deserted by all the woild, u strong
time. After several days of anxious ' arm was put underneath her, a man
thought I sent you the letter you re- ly breast was offered I'm' her to lean
ceived. Your reply was delayed sev-1 upon, and a noble heart showered up
eral days longer than it ought to have j on her the priceless treasures of its
been, so that it was nearlv a month
from the time I wrote before I reeeiv
ed your answer. What a precious let
ter that was ; so kind, so lull of friend
ly feeling, it seemed to me almost of
alfection. I read it over and over, al
most devouring the words as they
were written there. Could it be that
your hand had traced such kind, such
affectionate lines ? It must be so.
There was the name of her 1 had so
long, so hopelessly loved, traced by
her own hand and subscribed to lines
of warm and lasting fiiendship. 1
seized my pen and rapidly Mace:' br j 'hey were comp iralivu strangers now.
your perusal the history 1 hi've relit- i That lii'teen years ma.de great cluing
ted and when 1 had linisl'.ed, 1 said to 1 s i character and habits of thinking
you, "If mv prt'Seece shall Lk ivl.n.ni.
when 1 come, it ! shall stand upon the
- '
old friendly footing with vou, as on
that parting night in the dearold vine- j suehatsributes of loveliness and per-! hn knows, that living, nothing will
covered porch of y.air father's eot-j f'"ct ion, the ideal excellence might ; long part him from the love of bis
tago, when I dared to press my first ! f-'de away when he came lo know her youth, and the choice of his manhood,
love-kiss upon your unresisting cheek, 1 iis she really was; that nothing could i It was not a work of great labor to
if 1 may dare to talk to you of nil be more absurd dian to suppose a wo- i put. Uuniside. in readiness for its mis
the hoarded love of many years and ; man ol thirty-one could be lile a inai-! tress. A little pruning of the lordly
you will not spurn me for my eflVoni-' den of sixteen, or a man of thirty-live j trees, a little clearing away of brown
ery, I ask no communication in return ' like 11 bid of twenty. They were re-1 and scattered leaves from the lawn
for this. Silence on your part shall ; "lly strangers, save in memory, and in j an 1 rubbish from the garden, and the
tell mc you wait to see me, that you 1 'his manner (die talked to him, and it ' "llonny Sylph." the pretty little boat
will greet mc as an old and valued ' W1's pleasant to see how calm and : t hat rocked idly upon the. waters, to be
friend, that, you will listen to all my
heart's sorrows, to all mv treasured
affection for you, and will not send me
from you till you find your heart can
fp-el no answering throb to mine."
My very brain was oii tire ns I wrote
and the impassioned words flowed I
frommv pen with almost the speed of'
thought. I finished my letter, 1 seal
ed and directed it arid deposited it
safely in the oflice, and then, for the
first time in nearly two days, ate and
slept.
No reply came to my impetuous a
vowal ol my past history, and as soon
as I could 1 began my journeying
which was to bring me to your nres -
ence. I came; am here; you did not expect him, and to miss him, if his of perennial youth, for the heart is ev
receivc that communication. 1 have well-known step and clear, manly ; er young, even though the head be
now told you all, all, save that I can- voice were not, ns usual, heard on gar- ; grey, and the cheek be furrowed, for
not m ike you know that deep active
love which would sacrifice self, rather
than make you unhappy."
He looked at her steadily, nnd the j morally certain that Mr. Raymond',) loitering form,
faltering voice, strangely working lea-1 plantation would have a new owner Hut, over the countenance of lien
tures, and moistened eye attested ihe j before the christians holidays, but ry, of her husband, hath come a
truth of all his tongue had uttered. not so. He did not even wait, for lliat 1 perfect transfiguration. Life is no
He continued : time to arrive, but was away again to j longer a something vague and indef-
"Say it, only say it, Madeleine it i his seat in the halls of his country, j finite, but an actual identity, no lou
is no time for idle ceremony, for cold j leaving the gossip-loving community i ger to be endured, but to be enjoy
formality or even latly-like coyness 1 j to talk and speculate at their leisure. I cd. He is no longer himself, mo
have lost you once, it may be, because j And, as is usual, in such cases, time j tiveless and careless of the future, but
I did not tell my love, frankly nnd fear-' and tongues w en: not unemployed, j the highest aims, the highest aspira
lessly, but trusted too much 1 cannot some believing that the gentleman tioiis.the dearest hopes are henceforth
do it again. Say it, if you will, that
my presence pains you, that my Irieiid
ship is valueless and my love disre
garded, and I will be gone, I will nev
er trouble you again. I fear I am al
ways on extremes. Pardon mc if 1
have said a single word I ought not to
say. 11 1 nave and you will tell inr-
what it is you shall never hear it nioud.
again. But 1 can nevcrbc only a friend i3ut whatever people thought mat
to you, I must be something more or tered little to those who werJ the sub
nothing at all. If it is to be only that jl t.S of th. ir speculations, for, as in
I must away and never look on you i, cast.s generally, they were hap
again. But better, far better so than ,,iy ignorant of it.'and if they had
that I should be the occasion of sor- ,,, Uen. it would havp madi! but lit
row to you. I have never seen the
time when I would not have done any
thing in my power to give you pleas
ure or avert from you, distress."
He ceased and the twain sat in si
lence. There is no woman living whose
heart would not be touched by such
proofs of untiring devotion as he had
given her, and Madeleine Raymond
was a true woman, though not an or
dinary one. She could not, she would
not, she never had acted rashly.
With accurate judgment, far-seeing
reason and a well-balanced mind, she
never acted from feeling, or passion,
and though powerfully wrought upon
by her sympathy for him whose histo
ry of his past life demanded from her
the utmost tenderness, and though her
own affection for the friend of her
girlhood was shaking olf, as it were,
the dust and ashes under which, long
years ago she had resolutely buried it,
she yet preserved her usual calm and
cjuiet demeanor. She, too, had a tale
WTXCIIKSTKR, TENN"., NOVEMIJEK 18, 1858.
to tell mid unflinchingly alio related it
nil, though suiuet imos a tear would
fall, or a sigh escape, ns she narrated
. .....
her father's full and subsequent deg
nidation, her mother's sullrring and
sorrowful death, und her own anguish,
neglect and mortification. She did
not scruple to tell him how muuh con
solation she would have derived from
the idea then that hu cared more lor
her than as a dear friend, hut how, lit
tle by I ; 1 tit, she had been forced lo dis
miss such thotigMs from her mind, and
then she told him how in her greatest
suffering and sorrow, and anguish of
i undivided love.
And then she told him of the happy
home that bad been hers, since that
time, and of her people, as sin; called
tin; servants of her plantation, and j Ponto, down, trout one deeper and
her two dear children, and ended by i more, sonorous, ami soon emerge from
saying that she was not her own. She ! the intervening shrubbery, the own
must tlo nothing from n seliish feel- I ers of those same voices. No need
ing. just for her ownrra'.illcation, but j to tell you to whom they belong,
1 ,"usl consider haw tbeir interests and
! happiness might, bo injured, or ad-
j vanord ny n:,y step she might take.
Tlivt though they had been such dear
1 and intimate friend. in eaily youth,
and acliii'r. and I. .ough absence had
. i
, i" his mind turown such a halo of
beauty around her, invested her with '
j tranquil he grew under the sound of
1 her voice till every trace of over -
wrought leeling had vanished Irom , use ol the liouse-maid s broom, bucu
his countenance and he was able to j c-ts of water, seouring-cloth and dust
converse with her freely and frankly. ; ing-brush,and it was fresh and beauti
and wilh an apparent indifference j lul as ever.
w hich a few hours before h
have considered impossible.
would
That she did not forbid him to hope
what might, be, may be learued from
the fact that lie look lodgings in t lit'
village near by, and almost daily, du
ring the summer and autumn, be was
a visitant at, her house, riding, walk-
: ing and chatting with her and In
Iren on the most familiar terms, till
' servants and children both learned to
j den walk, in the long piazza, or cross-
! ing the ample hall to the daily meals
of the family, and village gossips were
. had received his dismissal from the ;
lady, and had departed crest-fallen, if
not broken hearted, wddle others sup
posed that the lady was herself the suf
ferer anil that he cared not upon fur
ther acquaintance to take to himself
a wife with two such spoiled children
. as they termed Ucorge and iMary Kay-
tle difference to those w ho should have
been the most interested of all, as hav
ing most at stake, for their own con
cerns amply occupied their time and
thoughts.
But the summer comes again,
bright, glad, beautiful summer, and
wakes to new-found life, bird and bee,
bud and flower, wilh all that profu
sion of greenery and swelling fruit
with which she loves to decorate her
many-hued and richly-broidered robe.
The windows of Burnside coltage
are open, wooing the cool, delicious
breeze from off the gently rippling
waters of the lake, seen at intervals,
framed as a pleasant picture by the
brown trunks and green branches of
the grand old trees, to corno in and toy
with tho snowy curtains that so grace
fully drape them. The place must be
inhabited and yet we sec no signs of
life. All is quiet and hushed. There
is no sound, save the dash of tho wa
ters on the near shore, and the rust
ling of the leaves of tree and shrub,
I rind thn tiny hum of winged insects
i darting from flower to flower, or the
! occasional note of some one of the
birds that makes its home among the
lordly, old trees. And yet the dwel
ling must have inmates, for at the rear
a thin smoke is curling up and dis
solving among the branches of a shel
tering oak. Pleasant us any place
may be, it must have inhabitants to
give it the cheerful homo-look. It
needs not long desertion to make any
house seem lonely and neglected, and
! JJurnside cottage has had that look
for many months, till now.
Listen. A plash of oars is heard
and close beside you, unnoticed before
.so intent were you in looking at the
cottage and its surroundings, springs
up the faithful, old house-dog, and
with a succession of iuiel(, glad barks,
rushes "'.own a winding pathway out
of sight.
Cheerful happy childish voices are
now heard, mingled with, "Down
i you have guessed ero this. The pre-
vious winter, Henry Moredaud has had
j f equetit use for the franking privilege,
j in more directions than one, and
spring found him. once again, al that
home, he had, yeais before, enjoyed
making so lovely.
Doubly did he enjoy it now, though
some thoughts of sadness mingled with
.
it, but bis former assurance of hope
has been made perfect unto him, and
( made tight ami repainted, a lew new
I articles of furniture within and some
1 here is little change in thn
looks
of Madeleine. She will never seem
to change much. Her beauty is not
of feature merely, but of mind and
soul, of the pure, radiant spirit that
looks out of those starry eyes, and
breathes in every lineament ofher face,
in every movement she makes, and in
every word slit! speaks. Such as she,
j never grow old. i here isabout tliem
; even m extreme age, an atmosphere
tin soul-light within allows no dark
ness or gloom, to settle on the frosted
head or wrap its shadows round the
to be his. No longer a stray wait on
the ocean of life, uncared for, and be
longing to no o ne, he has. all at once,
a beloved wife and two affectionate
children. If not his, by birth, they are
I Madeleine's, and she is bis, and they
lavish on him air" the fund affection of
youthful, trusting hearts. A calm,
quiet, joyous repose has settled on ev
ery feature of his noble face, high re
solve and inspiring hope have taken
the place of forced determination to
act from principles of duty, and the
old, youthful look of happy confidence,
which Madeleine so well remembered,
has come back to him. It is a differ
ent world to him, and different beings
live in it, and he, himself, is more
changed than all the rest, than any
thing else.
His love for Madeleine has been,
and is still thn one feeling of his life,
part and portion of himself. With
out it, he would not bo himself. Years
after as the nurse placed in his arms
another tiny babe, another daughter,
risking ns she did so what shall we
call her, Mr. Moreland? the answer
was characteristic of one, whose
thoughts had been for so many, muny
years centered upon the mother of the
coveted treasure.
"Call it Madeleine. What else
could we name her?"
And to another darling daughter
lay upon his arm and nestled against
his breast and grew to walk about
with him as had done the little cher
ub that slept where ,tbe myrtle and
wild violet, and white roses dropped
their fragrant petals on Hte fcWy
mound that marked the spot where he
had onco laid away his heart's best
treasure, aye, even, as he then said
in the bitterness of his sorrow, his on
ly one, But joy comcth out of sorrow
ami after mourning, cometh rejoic
ing. There is no happier home In all the
land than Burnside cottage now.
True, there are sad memories linger
ing round it yet, there ever must be,
while the dwellers within its walls are
spared on earth, but those sorrowful
reminiscences are not incompatible
with the calm, eubdued, heart-felt
peace and contentment that pervades
thu whole household. t
The little Madeleine is a sunbeam
of gladness, making the joy of her
fill iter's life, and no feeling of jeal
ousy of their darling sister hath ever
found a place with CJeorge and Mary
Raymond, for their -Mother's husband
hath been no step-father to them,
They have been as kindly and faithfully
w atched over, as consUtntly cared for
and as fondly loved, apparently, as if
they were, in truth, his own children.
Mr. Moreland finding bis wife
averse to bis continuance in political
life, how cou Id she be otherwise? long
since abandoned it, anil finds sullicient
employment lor all his energies in su
perintending his extensive farming
interest, and watching over the devel
oping minds of his children.
One heart-shadow still rests over
the Madeleine of our history, a great
and crushing one, but she bears it m'
best she may.
Her father she knows not where
.i it. -i i
ne is, orinrougii wnai varied scenes lie
may have passed, and sometimes she
fancies him sick and in distress, w ith
no kind friendly hand to administer to
fiis wauls, and it almost seems that she
cannot endure to be thus deprived of
all knowledge of where, and how be
is. But she tries to calm the anguish
of spirit that will sometimes conic
over her and be resigned lo this great
trial of her patience and submiss
ion. l'r several years after her marriage
with Mr. Raymond, she occasionally
heard from him, but for some time, no
tidings of him have mitigated the
yearning of her heart lo know of him
and to hear of his welfare. His dis
position was always of a restless,
unsettled character, home ami ils qui
et joys were tamo pleasures lo him.
He loved the excitement of change
and after Madeleine's departure, he
went to the Western Territories, and
the last she heard of him, had joined
an exploring party to the Rocky
mountains. His bones, perhaps lie
bleaching on those dreary plains, or
in some gorge at the foot of some of
those mighty peaks that lilt their
snow-crowned foreheads to the arch
ing sky above.
My tale is told. There is more of
truth in it than fiction. Thn world is
what we make it. If we look at man
as false-hearted, faithless and scllish
in- nil his acts, he will be so to us, for
we shall believe him so, and that will
be the same, so far as wc are concern
ed, ns if he really were. .If we re
gard woman as fickle, heartless, vain
and worthless, she will be to us, just
what wc make her by our belief. He
or she is most happy, who has most
confidence in his kind, who trustingly
believes in the excellence of humani
ty, and has never had that trust be
trayed. BE FAITHFUL.
She lovea thee 'till l oh I leave her not
To miaery and woe)
She'a loved thee Iiiiik. and ne'ei gjrgut
Vows aiiiike ao lung ago.
Fhe trualed thee through aeaanna long
And irevordi earned or change,
And often alngn thy favnriteiongi
0 1 why thy heart entrai.ge I
Forgotten I 'lis ao hard In feel
All this word inliliea,
When memories fund acroaa ua ateal,
And hOe within ua dtVa. '
0 ! leave her not I aha cliuga lu thee,
And trusta thy iromie aweet,
And t.illiful thou ahould'at ever be
Then hasten her lu meet-
The world may never hold tor thee,
Again, ao greit a priae
Plrat love, ao gujleleiu, from double free,
And free from all dlagulae.
Par happier aha will make thy borne,
Than wealth or beauty rare
Then cease thy yearn g heart to roara
For other maida mora lair.
Add not ano'.her to Ihe Hat
Of nuids who've loved in vain t
Look where thou wilt, Ihert'e none, 1 wW.t
Will love ao well again.
Me luvee thee atill i oh I lc '
That leaaou work! reowed
But few tcape 'lie houub' l
While blea aearta ao
Aovice to ths Youmo. Jerrold said
to an ardent young gentlemen whe
burned with a desire to see himself in
print. "Be advised by me, young
man: don't take down- the shutters
before there is something in the win
dow."
One of our exchanges says that a
beautiful damsel being asked to waltz
by a gentleman at a ball in one of the
large towns in New England, replied:
"No, thank you, I don't like to walu
it Drakes Q) ftdser
Lines for Annie's Album.
ilo not know wlnl oflbring
TnUy upon tlij ilirlne,
Awl yet niotliinhe thy heart would ealt
The' wurmeat love ol mine.
Were I lu bring Ihe hrijiiast gem
h'er round lu eailhly mine,
Howa'erao bright, It were not lit
To decli a brow lil.e llilue,
I cannot twine a wreath of do were
To Mud Uiou lliy brow,
For oh I Ihe laurel wreath of time
la circling round It now.
Lul 1 chunw lor thee tares J:wela bright
Aa Villus, Love, and Truth l
For thaae, mellilnkt, are tilling genu)
To deck ihe brow or youth I
Then blod them, Anule, round thy heart,
Aud may their holy light
Guide thee t trough youth, and, when til age,
still nuy Ihey he ua bright.
And, Aiiulc, when a. 1 1 cuu wlab,
h'oi thee on einh It given,
0 I then 1 pray that thou uiuyat be
Anaugel blight in lleuvenl
A wicked editor says: "The ladies
do not visit us because they can't get
through without undressing."
An honest son of Erin, green from
his peregrinations, put his head into a
lawyer's oilier, ami asked tin; inmate:
"An what tlo you sell lieref "liloci;
heads,'' replied the limb ol' the law.
"(Jell, then lo be sure," caid I'at, "it
must he a good trade, for 1 sec there
is but one of them left."
"My schoolmaster," says Carlyle,
"was a good Latin scholar, ami of the
human mind he knew this much: that
it had a faculty called memory which
might be reached through the muscu
lar inleguineut by tint application of
birchen rods."
One reason why the world is not
reformed is because every man is bent
on reforming others, and never thinks
of rcl'ui'in'nig himself.
Thousands and thousands of dollars
of gold coin are annually shipped by
us to Europe. Thousands and thou
sands of dollars worth of uneoiued
gold, bullion bars of gold are annually
shipped by us lo Europe because we
have no use for it. We cannot force
it into circulation. If a man gets it lie
will not pay a dollar of it out. as long
as he has paper shiuplasters about
him. He is right in so doing. I" is
his interest to do so. Banks may
break and shiuplasters may become
worthless in an hour, but if till the
Banks in the Union were to break bis
gold dollars would shine as bright as
ever.
Ailvicc (Worth Millions) (Irntis,
Every woman has a right to be any
age she pleases, for if she were to
state her real age no one would be
lieve her. Every woman who makes
puddings has a perfect right to believe
that she can make a better pudding
than any other woman in the world.
Every man who carves has a decided
right to think of himself by pulling a
few of the best bits inside. Every
woman has a right to think her child
the "prettiest little baby in the world,"
and it. would be the greatest folly to
deny her ibis right, lor she would In
sure to take it. Every young lady has
a right to faint w hen she pleases, if
her lover is by her side to catch her.
Every fool has a r.ght to be on the
best terms with himself, and that man
I is a crealer tool who (tillers with mm
about those terms. Every child w ho
makes a.noise, has a right to be turned
out of the room; and supposing you
have not the right, you are perfectly
justilied, if the parents are absent, in
usurping it.
- . - . -.
AnCID.NT AM) MoilKlt.N I'ol.lTll.VKSS.
Some eight or ten winters since, ex
Goveiior Everett, of Massachusetts,
with the last Amos Lawrence, was in
a sleigh, riding into lJoston. As they
approached a school house, a score of
young boys rushed into tho street, to
enjoy their alteruoou recess, baul
the Governor to his friend, "Let us ob
serve whether these boys make obei
sance to us, as wo were taught fifty
years ago." At the same time he
expressed the fear that habits of civil
ity were less practiced than formerly.
As they passed the school house, all
question and doubt upon the subject
received a speedy, it not a satisfactory
settlement, for each one of these juve
nile New Englandcrs djd his best at
snow-balling the waylaring dignita
ries.
Low Neckku Dresses. In the early
days of Pennsylvania, there was a law
which stated as follows; "That if
any white female, of ten years or up
ward, should appear in any public
street, lane, highway, church, court
house, tavern, ball room, theatre, or
any other place of resort rvM oaked
shoulders, being able to .purchase nec
f asary clothing, shall forfeit and pay a
fine, not less than one or more than
two hundred dollM. The closing
paragraph of tho law, however per
ffiitted women of questionable charac
ter to bare their shoulders, as a badge
f distinction between the chaste and
Mcbute
Number 44.
EAKLY PIETY.
The following story is acknowl
eged a "good one," but wo have never
before seen it in print:
A few years since, some roguish
boys in a town not a thousand miles
distant from tho capital of New Hamp
shire, persuaded Joseph N , or as
ho was generally called "Joe," to at
tend Sunday School. Joe was an
overgrown, halfwitted, profane lad,
and the boys had anticipated conside
rable fun outofhimj but tho answers
lo tho various questions were given so
readily that no one oould for a mo
ment suppose that he was not fully
versed in theological lore.
Joe was duly ushered in, and pla
ced onn setteo in front of the one on
which his friends were seated, and
the recital ion commenced.
The teacher first questioned the
class on their regular lesson, and then
turned to Joe.
My friend, "said the teacher' "who
made t he world we inhabit?"
"Eh?" sajd Joe, turning up his eyes
like an expiring calf.
"Who made the world we inhabit?'
Just as he was probably about to
give an answer, one of the boys seat
ed behind insert .hI a pin into his (Joe's)
pants, about nine inches below the
oruimeiital buttons of I. is coat.
"Uod Almighty!" answered Joe, in
an elevated tone, at the same time ri
sing Iron bis sodf
"That is correct!" replied the teach
er "but it is not necessary that you
rise in answering. A sitting posture
was just as well."
Joo was again seated, and the cate
chism proceeded.
"Who died to save, the world?"
"Jesus Christ!" in a still louder voice,
rising, as before from bis seat.
"That is correct, but do not mani
fest so much feeling; do be more com
posed und reserved in your manner,"
said the teacher, in an expostulating
tone.
Al ter Joe had calmed down, tho ex
amination went on.
'What will be the final doom of all
wicked men.''" was the subject now un
der consideration; and as the pin was
again stuck in, Joe thundered out, with
a higher elevation of his body "Hell
and damnation!"
"My young friend,"said tho instruc
tor, "you give the true answer to all of
these questions; but while you are
here we wish you to be more mild in
Viitir words. I )il nrw!i!iirii ifi'mi onn
1 1 restrain your enthusiam. and L'ive a
less extended scope to yeur feelings'"
U';i.-"IKI
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WITH AN
( !'',,( .ufbitltmr and out-
Old Jokes Versified.
At church, Joe says, his manly heart
Willi truo devotion swell,
Disproving that, os tome assert,
lie's led there by the belles;
W h i Jo Jo ne, happiest of coquettes,
Whose eye no sorrow dims,
Most piously employs her lime
In looking for the Hims.
We are under obligations to the
clever proprietor of the Augusta (Ga.)
Dispatch for his daily. It is a good
paper well edited and tastily printed.
The U. S, Army consists of 13,000
5 regiments of cavalry, 4 of artillery
and 10 of infantry. The Union is
computed at 3,000,000 effective men.
Girls who are not handsome hate
those who are while those who are
handsome hate one another. Which
class has the best time of it?
How to Make Newspapers
Safer.
go
We find the following remarks in
an exchange. We commend them to
the attention of our distant subscribers.
"Wc shall like to have all the single
packets doubled, trebled, quadrupled,
or more, if more might. It is trouble
some to send out these single pack
ages; very troublesome, in proportion
to the gains. We can put up two or
three papers for a mail nearly aj soon
as we can one. Besides, we always
realize a feeling of anxiety in regard
to these little packets, in sending one
paper away by itself so f'- We feel
for them in their lonely and uncertain
journey. As to the large packages,
their very bulk will command some
respect tor them from post office clerks,
tlut these solitary little fellows, in
their insignificance, may probably, be
kicked into some corner, or miss their
way, and be lost among the hills and
hollow. It is a pity to have one pa
per to take such long jurnys as some
of them do, "solitary and alone." Give
them company, and they will travel
more swiftly and reach their destina
tion more surely."
Iron was first discovered by the bar
ning of Mount Ida, one thousand
but) IreJ years before Chris