Newspaper Page Text
=—"" TIIE
„ tti sT^sTcr?;
S,’ * ___ tmH*m
ril be published erery SATURDAY Morning,
l,i the Brick Building, at the Corner of
Cotton Avenue and First Street,
is THE CITY OF MACOS, CA.
,»y w n. B. lUItKISOX.
TERMS :
Ft the Paper, * n advance, per annum, s*2.
not paid •» advance, $2 50, per aunuin.
If not paid until the end of the Year $3 00.
advertisements will be inserted at the usual
t'-f—and , v hen the number of insertions de
-lej IS llo t specified, they will be continued un
■i f. jr bid and charged accordingly.
tt Adr rtisers by the Year will be contracted
ritb upon the most favorable terms,
rrSales of Land by Administrators, Executors
Guardians, are required by Lavv, to be held on
' ijrst I’ttesday in the month, between the hours
,Hen o’clock in the Forenoon and three in the Af
‘ IJjn at the Court House of the county in which
,» Pr .party is situate. Notice ofthese Salesmust
i'aiven mapa.lic gazette sixty days previous
a the dav of sale
Q. tp.asof Negroes bv Ad mini stators, Execu
rJ or C ur bans, must be at Public Auction on,
h- fi it rues lav in the .month, between the legal
ms of sale, before the Court House of the county
rherethe Letters Testamentary, or Administration
r Gaarliinship mav have been granted, first giv
„ , ,j jtice thereoflor sixty days, in one of the pub
i ’ J.rettes of this Btate, and at the door of the
■ wrt A .use where such sales are to be held.
H* .V jtice for the saleof Person it Property must
e given in like manner forty days previous to
he dav of sale. •
Cj"S Jtice to the Debtors and Creditors o .an Es
ite nust be published for forty days.
L.tice that application will be made to the
'rift of Oidinirv for leave to sell Larfil or Ne
'r) )J . n) n be published in a public gazette in this
!„(. f >r focr months, before any order absolute
be given by the Court.
Jv'it ations for Letters of Adminfstration on
Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must
(e published thirty days - for Letters of Dismis
i ,hi from the administrationofan Estate, monthly
■ O , six vtoxrHS—for Dismission from Guardian
ihip forty days. ;
ijpltui.r.s for the foreclosure of a Mortgage,!
nHt be punlished monthly for focr. months —|
hr esUlilOhing lost Papers, for the full space of
urtEE months—for co npelling Titles from Ex
icutors, A 1 ninmtrators or others, where a Bond
ia»h jin given by the deceased, the full space of
THREE MONTHS.
V .1 All Bisinass of this kind shall receiv
iro imt ittentionat tho SOUTH CRN MUSEUM
) fi :e, au 1 s riet care will be taken that all legal
U/ercse mints are published according to Law.
□P Ml Letters directed to this Offi e or the
'litor on business, must be post-paid, to in
>-r> ul'ention. N
•• A Tjl d'd'SjJj 'I P 1' IC.”
I VIE undersigned, t ,- ue to Ins promise, again
presents to the Public more data on which
hey can safely base their calculations relative
;u tlie respective merits of the depleting system
ifilie disciples of Esculapius, and of that invig
irating and phlogestie one of which he is proud
lo be the advocate.
L,e iving the stilts of egotism and shafts of rid
cule for the use of those who have nothing bet
(cr to stand on, and no other weapons for attack
»r defence, he selects his standing on truth, and
isos such support only as merit gives him ; and
"or weapons, lie chooses simply to assail the
ranks of die enemy oecasionally with “a little
r.ore grape,” in the form of facts,which are evi-
I ally the hardest kind of arguments since they
I film administer to his quiet amusement by the
errible destruction they cause among the stilts
ud the ludicrous effect they produce in causing
erlain individuals to laugh, as it is expressed in
manly phrase, “on t’other side the mouth.”
Hie Mexicans are not the only people, these
Iks, whom vanity has blinded to their own de
si-ts; neither cun they claim nmeh superiority
n the way of fancied eminence and blustering
Iravado over many that live a great deal nearer
Line. A salutary lesson has latterly been giv
in the former by the Amerieans, and the latter
may ere long take “ another of the same ” ala
■lode de Tui,lor.
I After the following there will still bo “a few
Georgia, lonfs CouNTV,aIB4B.
I This certifies that for more than four or five
■ears my wife was afflicted with a disease pecul
iar in her sex, and notwithstanding all that we
|"iild di, sli still continued to get worse. The
Physicians in aitendance had exhausted their
litill without rendering her any assistance till.
In 1844, when she was confined to her bed in a
fory low condition, 1 got her last attendant to go
Ivitli me to Macon and lay her ease before Dr.
M Thomson, who, without having seen her,
kriisi rilled and sent her medicine that soon re
lieved her, arid in the course of a short time re
liorcd her to permanent health She has now
fc '. n well about four years and rejoices in the
I' cry ut her long lost health
FRANCIS 15. HASCAL.
I Macon June 2‘2d, 1848.
I Dk. M. S. Thomson— Dear Sir :—Deeming it
I duty I owe to yourself as well as to the afflicted
■' in rally, 1 have eonc’uderi to give you a short
Itateinent of my case, which you are at liberty to
publish it you tit i ii k that the best mode of thereby
lubserving the interests of suffering humanity
I In May 1841, afier considerable exposure to
r°Ll, I was attacked with Asthma, which pros
jratiid an. very much, and notwithstanding all
Ikit could lie done to prevent it, it continued to
return about every two weeks till in IB4ti, I ap-
to you. Between these attacks I had a very
■ovnrc cough, which led some of the physicians
■° whom 1 applied to believe that 1 had
B lon - 1 applied to physicians of both tile Min-
Bnlaitd Botanic schools, of eminent general
< fic.ilions, but all to no benefit, for I contin
t > get worse,so much so that I had reduced
■run being a strong, fleshy man,down to a mere
and could hardly creep about —When
■ applied to you, I had but little faith in being
ari ‘d, though I had witnessed some wonderful
following your treatment, especially the
'mi of that crazy woman you bought of Aquil-
Hy Phelps, in Jasper, yet they gave me confi-
Wenre and bv persevering in the use of your
amt as it were hoping against hope,
f m.' u ' 1 'iiucli gratified in being able to announce
l have got entirely well, for I have bad but
lt ull ack in twenty months, and that was
g.. months ago. I have now regained about
lir n! r " ls «'.■' 5 ' lt ' illl| l feel as strong as almost
u> r. l ' l ° tv '‘” u 'i which is my age. Without
,1 i! 1,1 Bus characterof the other cures
i l . eso "‘lJteutly resulted from your prac
■ nilt tJiink that any of them cun beat
lr '"°! ’^ s, hna combined with a
8,,., cn [ I sh, especially where the flesh
1 ’ 118 on " been classed among the in
* Most respectfully, yours,
11. LIGHTFOOT.
Me ciishs'/''. S| k' no, l still continues lo treat Cliro
city i,''"";' < l |fi, anee at his office,or either of
iroinq'i In .s houses, and ut a distance
dio (font r ■' U ' or hy private hand. Those
1 five doll-! ! |l " re P erSol,!l l attention, are treated
s ' lil l moil i -. S ,Ur ,nor *sh, those who do, at the
ay inust (>*/ ll ' : rat,!s ' Those who are able to
llr teria, '’ e ? l 111 do sOj Withuut variation from
Rise wlio'J'" !l distinct bargain is made,
I Letters .l .Vi." 1 ’ Wl| l he treated gratuitously.
u st be post-paid, and add eased
: I Lb ;j M.S.THOMSON, M. D
i Macon, Gu.
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM.
VOLI'.TIE I.
3|J o r t r g .
[for tiie southern museum.]
aiAKIAST AND EUGENIO,
A September Vision.
’Twasan autumn morn; the dewy leaves
Laid thick on the earth’s cold breast,
And the peep of dawn oVr va'e and hill,
Broke the feathered songsters’ rest.
Tlie sighing winds in the forest trees,
And the turtle’s mournful lay,
Willi sadness fell on my plaintive soul,
And spoke for a gloomy day.
The busy crow on his tireless wings,
Kept his raven form on high ;
Y\ bile the cricket chirped its sombre song
On the woodland heath near by.
The locust chimed with its tuneless note
To the blue-jay’s haughty tone;
And the bulfinch hung its weary head
Ere the morning sun had shone.
With the dark dull sky a screen o'erhend,
And all nature drooping round,
With a heart enshrined in loneliness
My sequestered haunt 1 found.
Noi long in the school-house* shade I sat,
With my book and pencil near.
When a vivid dream passed o’er my brain,
And a hist’ricd form did wear:
“Nay, daughter mine, twill never do!
Thou must not marry yet !
What would I be, were I to miss
Each day, thine eyes of jet ?
And those white fingers, ever wont
To hide them iir my hair—
What would I do, were one to claim
Their filial labor there ?
“My hoary head is near tlie grave,
Mine eyes are dimness now ;
And with the marks of cruel time
My trembling members bow.
Tliy father cannot spare thee, child,
Thou canst not, wilt not, go :
And hark tiiee, Marian, what I say,
Ralphine hath told thee so !”
“Nay, father do not ypeak so harsh,
Marian deserves it not :
For rather than to cross thy will
Mine is a single lot.
But think again, my father dear,
And ponder what 1 sav —
Eugenio's pride will be to keep
Thine age from winter's day.
“He will uphold thee from the frost
Os poverty’s neglect,
And with tlie flowers of sweetest spring
Thy moments will be decked.
His fortune on this lonely spot,
Where now our cottage stands,
Will build a mansion for us all,
With fields and garden lands.”
“ Tis madness, girl! the honeyed words
That subtle manhood deals,
Which every flirting maid believes
Till time the truth reveals.
I’ll trust him not! —tell him my wish,
That he come here no more ;
Or by the strength of Ralphine’s vow
lie II find the cottage door!
“And, Marian, tempt me not to call
A father’s curse on thee,
Or by the good and great of earth
A curse in truth 'twill he !
Now simper not, young, artless maid—
This is my firm command :
Thou shalt not speak to him again,
Thou shalt reject his hand !”
’Twus thus a father and his child,
Beneath a cottage roof,
A summer evening spent, in words
Os kindness or reproof.
A daughter plead her lover's cause
Against Ralphine’s desire,
And quick it roused his angry soul,
And stirred its stubborn fire.
And Marian, nature’s neatest work,
A guileless country maid,
Hud on her slight portending knee,
Her busy knitting laid ;
And plucking off, with gentleness,
From offits balmy rest
A tender rose, Eugenio placed
Upon her snowy breast;
She tore its beauteous leaves apnrt
And threw them to the wind ;
“Go, gentle flower,” she said, “nor leave
Thy master’s love behind—
Ar.d with destruction to thy form
Poor MarianVheart is torn :
For Ralphine swears—my father, lie!—
That I shall live forlorn !”
Thus saying, o'er her beauteous cheeks
The tears of sorrow fell;
While in her calmness there appeared
A language none may tell.
Her father looked not, but in thought
lie traced with steady hand,
A list of characters unknown
Upon the yielding sand.
*During a visit to the up-country last summer,
tlie writer frequented a very picturesque retreat
in Clark county, which hud once been occupied
as a school-room. Two or three years ago, it
was, perhaps, the most public place in tlie set
tlement, but the school being broken up, tho
house was neglected, and when I saw it last the
rude log cahiu was ready to crumble down. The
place was so singularly lonely, that 1 remember
having seen but one or two persons there during
a stay ofseveral weeks,
MACON, (CA.) SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 7, 1819.
Thus sat they till the twilight grey
Disturbed their pensive thought—
Each wrapped in long and moody dreams :
One mourned o’er misery bought;
The other deemed bis daughter's will
Was moulded to his own,
And thus secured, ere it had time,
The bird that would have flown !
The night descended thick and fast
Ere from their dreams they woke,
And cold damp dews and cliilliqg winds
Their thoughtful reveries bruke.
Then Marian sprang with nimble tread
To do her household work:
Believing that her kindness would
Subdue the fatber-Turk.
Her cheerful song arose again,
As it was wont to rise,
In grateful music’s sweetest note, .Jiza'
Up to the listening skies.
And sooh )„y»>h«sty viands dressed,
She quick supplies the meal,
And then with usual spirits whirled
The humming spinning-wheel.
Thus spent, the evening hours had closed,
The cottage fire grown dim,
And sleep had closed the eyes of all
Save Marian and him.
And as the heaping embers threw
Their feeble light, and died,
The father stirred not from his seat,
But looked around, and sighed.
Marian had wrapped her lily hands
Within her apron'- fold,
And rested thus her weary head,
Which bathed in dreamsofgold;
When suddenly a piercing sound
Like to the bagpipe’s key,
Caine ringing through the forest trees—
An unknown minstrelsy.
Thrice p ang that note—then Ralphine rose
And oped the creaking door,
And then the music clearer came
Than ever heard before.
“Eugenio !” shrieked the frantic girl,
“I know full well ’tis he ;
That music, father dear, is meant
A serenade for me I”
“It is thy death-knell, foolish girl,
It doth not give thee joy ?
Mark, Marian, dost thou yet intend
To have that giddy boy?
If so, list while 1 speak a word,
A with ring word 'twill he I
One name hath power to centre all
A father’s curse on thee !
“If thou dost marry him, the day
Wilt mark thy deep distress,
And time will prove what I assert—
Thou art a murderess /’*
Then Ralphine darted quick toward
The neighboring wood, from whence
The sweet concordant sound had pierced
His humble residence.
And soon poor Marian’s eyes had lost
Her father’s gliding form ;
Nor knew she that his words foretold
A thickly gath’ring storm.
And as with quivering lieartsho sat,
The event to await,
A rifle's crack, and stifled groan,
Bespoke too well her fate.
“Eugenio killed !” she shrieked, “oh God 1
My only hope is gone,
And misery gathers with this thought:
Ralphine the deed hath done !
Away ! I ll see his lifeless form,
I’ll kiss his pallid cheek,
I’ll hear one word from his dear lips,
For niciy be he can speak I”
So saying, swifter than the fawn,
The gentle Marian sped
To gaze upon, as she supposed,
Euger io, now the dead.
She came, hut naught beheld but one
Dim, flickering, fading light,
Which strove, in contest most unfair,
Against the shades of night.
She nursed the flame, and funned it up
Till bright and clear it shone,
But yet she saw no trace oferime—
The murderer’s hand was gone.
She ventured further, shielded now
By grief and torch from fear,
Until the crumpled bushes told
The struggling-ground was near.
Alas ! Marian soon reached tlie spot
Where everything declared
That there her lover’s harmless life
So dreadfully had fared.
The clofted blood lay strewed about
O'er shrub and tender leaf;
She saw and fell,one clear, long shriek
Gave utterance to her grief.
Sire woke not till the Eastern dawn
Had tinged tho cloudless sky,
And o'er her head the chatt’ring birds
Had skipped unheeded hy ;
And then she rose, and to her home
Sim made her des’late way,
And found it as tlie night before
All things in quiet lay.
So Marian dwelt, alone and sad,
Within her lowly cot,
And ne’er a human heart to cheer
Her solitary lot.
She knew not whither Ralphine went,
She saw Eugenio s smile
No more, to gladden the poor heart
Os Marian, sorrow's child.
Thus days aud weeks and months had passed,
And inem'ry still remained
Alone to tell on her fair cheek
The knd-marks time had gained.
AV lien sitting on her cottage step,
Intently gazing high,
A little cloud soon spread itself
Over the jewelled sky.
But Marian deemed she gazed upon
Tlie stars she first had seen,
Nor noticed she the sudden change,
To dark, from brightest sheen.
Nor thought she, till the firstling drops
Fell on her tiny form,
And roaring winds bent low the trees,
That there would be a storm.
But struggling in its mighty strength,
The wild tornado came,
And spread destruction far and near,
Yet spared the cottage frame.
The vivid lightnings flashed athwart
The firmament of heaven,
And seemed as if a double force
To wind and rain were given.
While thus tho terror of the gale
Threw death on all around,
The door flew open—Marian saw
Eugenio inward bound.
An instant viewed the lovers thrown
Into each other's arms,
And in that transport were forgot
The tempest’s dread alarms.
“Thou’rt safe ? when ? where? and how? she
Eugenio is not dead ? [cried,
Alive ? I saic thee shot, 'tis true
Eugenio must be dead !
My father, Ralphine, where is he ?
Answer quick, dost thou know ?
Nay, fond Eugenio, why wilt thou
Stand mute, unanswering so ?”
“Thy father is not dead, dear girl,
Eugenio lives, you see !
Now listen, Marian, when the storm
Abates, I’ll tell to thee I”
“The storm, Eugenio, never mind,
I care not for the rain,
’Twill be as silent as a calm
If thou’it but speak again !
“Come, comr, Eugenio, tarry not,
But quickly tell me all,
And answer did Ralphine not fire,
And didst Eugenio fall ?”
Neither, Marian, ’twas neither one :
Eugenio never fell,
Nor did Ralphine attempt my life
Within the forest dell.
“Thou Uno west that he told thee, dear,
As thy severe command,
To speak with me no more, but scorn
My fortune, heart and hand.
I and my comrades in the chase
Pursued a nimble deer,
Within a distance, though unknown,
Where thine own home was near.
“And cold and weary, we sat down
A cheering fire around,
And each with music recompensed
The game we all had found.
And then your father came, and called
Me from the jovial crew,
Until the woods and thick low trees
Had hid them from my view.
“Just then, one of our men in mirth,
Fired off his well charged gun,
And then the party, rested well,
Betook them to the run.
Ralphine and I attempted then
To follow in the chase,
Though dark the night, and guideless, we
Kept the unequal race,
“At last when faint, we saw a light,
And hoped, although in vain,
That there our tricky fellows sat
Around a fire again.
We were mistaken, for a gang
Os robbers sat them round,
Who seized us and confined us in
A cavern under ground.
“What then transpired, 'tis useless now
To tease you to relate,
Suffice it that Ralphine hath sealed
And sworn our happy fate.
Tomorrow’s sun shall see thee mine,
Marian, is that not joy ?
Let idle thoughts no more presume
Our happiness t’ alloy.’*
««#««*««
A month flew by ; a year escaped ;
The cottage stood no more—
A lofty mansion graced the place
Where it had been before.
And liv’ried servants stood to catclr
Their owners’ bid or call ;
And gardens, lands, and fields of grain :
Marian was queen of all.
But Ralphine came not in their home,
Till winter’s struggling sun
Had set beneath the western hills,
His daily labor done ;
And Marian and Eugenio sat
Around the warm fireside,
And morning, noon, and evening's cares
W'ere thrown by all aside.
The servant at the outer door
A stranger ushered in,
Whose age was told by wrinkled flesh,
And features long and thin.
It was Ralphine: he raised his voice,
And with a solemn stress,
His finger raised to Marian, said
“Thou art a murderess
2HUIBER 32.
Death struck Eugenio and his wife—
An infant on her knee—
Whilst Ralphine cried “alas, alas 1
A father's curse on thee !’’
The frozen corpses laid like stone
Upon the marble floor,
And Ralphine’s eyes were sightless, he
Death's visage also wore.
“Tis done !” he said, “Marian is gone—
Three spirits are asleep—
And now I'll fold my arms, and siuk
Into death’s awful deep !”
He fell , the echo rang throughout
The stately mansion’s walls,
And came again, as if ’twere loth
To rest within its halls.
My blood grew cold ; the awful sight
My frame with horror filled,
And every muscle of my form.
And every nerve was chilled.
'Twas thus I gazed, when soon the room
In misty visions broke,
Wh#i suddenly my gaze flew off,
And Ins quick—awoke.
And I lay beneath tlie school-house roof,
With its broken eaves o’erhead ;
And alone I thought 'twere best to be,
Than to ’habit with the dead.
The setting sun had the shadows thrown
Along from the tree and dome,
And the crimson dye of the eveningclouds
With a glance forewarned of home.
W. P. 11.
CAPTAIN STICK AND TONEY.
A JUDGEMENT FOR COSTS. BY J. J. HOOPER.
Old Captain Stick was a remarkably
precise old gentleman, and a conscientious
ly just man. He was too, very methodi
cal in his habits, one of which was to keep
an account in writing of the conduct of his'
servants, from day to day. It was a sort
of account current, and he settled it every
afternoon. No one dreaded these heb
dominal balances more than Tony, the boy
of all work, for the Captain was generally
obliged to write a receipt for a considera
ble amount across his shoulders.
One settling afternoon, the Captain, ac
companied by Tony, was seen toddling
down to the old stable, with his little ac
count book in his hand, and a small rope
in the other. After they had reached the
“bar of justice,” and Tony had been pro
perly “strung up,” the Captain proceeded
to state the account as follows :
Tony Dr.
Sabbath, to nut half blacking my boots,
&c., five stripes.
Tuesday, to staying four hours at mill
longer than necessary, ten stripes.
Wednesday, to not locking the hall door
at night, five stripes.
Friday, to letting the horse go without
water, five stripes.
Total, twenty-five stripes.
Tony Cr.
Monday, by first-rate day’s work in the
garden, ten stripes.
Balance due fifteen stripes.
The balance being thus struck, the Cap
tain drew his cowhide and remarked—
“ Now Tony, you black scamp, what say
you, you lazy villain, why I shouldn’t give
you fifteen lashes across your back, as
hard as I can draw ?”
“Stop old Massa,” said Tony ; “dar’s
de work in de garden, sir—dat ought to
tek off some.”
“You black dog,” said the Captain,
“hav’nt I given you the proper credit of
ten stripes, for that. Come, come!”
“Please old mass,” said Tony, rolling
his eyes about in way of fright, “dar’s, you
forgot, dar’s de scouring ob de floor—old
missus say 1 neber been scour so good be
fore.”
“Hobo you saucy rascal,” quoth Cap .
Stick ; “jou’re bringing in more offsets,
are you ? Well, now, there !” here the
Captain made an entry upon his book, “you
have a credit of five stripes,and the balance
must be paid.”
“Gor a raity, massa don’t hit yet, dar’s
sumpen else, oh Lord ! please don’t, yes
sir, gotum now, ketchiu’de white boy and
fetchiri’ um to ole missus, what trow rock
at de young duck.”
“That’s a fact,” said the Captain, “the
outrageous young vagabond, that's a fact,
and I’ll give you a credit of ten stripes for
it—l wish you had brought him to me,
now we will settle the balance.”
“Bress de Lord, ole massa,” said Tony
“dat’s all.” Tony grinned extravagantly-
Tho Captain adjusted his tortoise shell
spectacles, with great exactness, held the
book close to his eyes, and ascertained that
tho fact was as stated by Tony. He was
not a little irritated.
“You swear oft' the account do you 1”
“All de credit is fair, ole massa,” an
swered Tony.
“Yes, but,” said the disappointed Cap
tain, “but, but,” still the Captain wassore-
Will be execu&t'My, for the Sculkcrn Museum f
and on the best terms, at t/ic'O^s —
3CJTHE3.IT ICTSE-Jl/L,’
-BY—
WM. B. HARRISON.
ly puzzled how to give Tony a few licks
any how, ‘but,’ an idea popped into his
head, ‘where’s my costs, you incorrigible,
abominable rascal I You want to swin
dle me do you out of my costs, you black,
decoitful rogue 1 ‘And,’ added Captain
Stick, chuckling as well at his own ingen
uity as the perfect justice of the sentence;
“I enter judgement against you for costs,
ten stripes” and forthwith administered
the stripes and satisfied the judgement.
•Ivi nigger!’ said Tony; ‘ki nigger!
what dis judgement for coss, old massa
talk ’about. Done git off’bout not blackin’
de boo', git off'bout stayin'long time at
de mil!, and ebery ting else, but dis judg
ment forcoss gim me de debble. b’ress God
nigger must keep out ob de ole stable, or
I’ll udl you what, dat judgement for coss
make ’e back feel mighty warm, for true !”
Correspondence.— Swift, alluding in a
letter to the frequent instances of a broken
cort espondence after a long absence, gives
the following natural account of the cau
ses : “At first one omits writing for a lit
tle while ; and then one stays a little while
longer to consider of excuses—and at last
it grows desperate and one does not write
at all. In this manner, I have served
others, and have been served tnyself.”
A Friendly Recognition. —A coarse
looking fellow went up to an old gentle
man, and holding out his hand, remarked
with *a smile :
“My dear sir, I cannot call you by name,
but l am sure we have been together
somewhere.”
“We may have been,” said the old gen
'leman, for 1 have been in some very bad
company in my days.”
A Puzzle.— A domestic, newly engag
ed, prosented to his pilaster, one morning
a pair of boots, the leg of one of which was
much longer than the other. “How comes
it, you rascal, that these boots are not of
the same length V'
“I really don’t know, sir ; but what
bothers me the most is, that the pair down
stairs are in the same fix,”
How to Commit Murdf.r Quietly. —
See a young lady, and tell her that she
has a very pretty foot. She will then wear
small, thin shoes—go out into the wet —
catch a cold—the cold will soon become a
fever, and she will die in a month.
No Surrender —“ Delaware will nev
er yield an inch,” said a patriotic Dela
warian, whe.i the Pea Patch case was be
ing tried.
“If she did,” replied a bystander, “she
would lose half her territory.”
“On, Dear !”■—“What is love, Clara V’
said Bill, the other night, as he sat by the
side of his sweetheart.
“Love’ Bill, 1 hardly know what it is,
but I suppose it must bo getting married
and kissing little babies.” Bill fainted.
Non-committal. —An old woman was
asked what she thought of one of her neigh
bors by the name of Jones ; with a very
knowing look, she replied :
“Why, I don't like to say any thing
about my neighbors; but as to Mr. Jones,
sometimes I think, and then ag’in I don’t
know—but a’ter all. I rather guess he’ll
turn out to be a good deal such a 6ort of a
man as I take him to be.”
Double quick Time. —An Irish gentle
man, boasted that he could ruu twice as
fast as any common man.
“How do you make that out, Pat I”
was the inquiry.
“ Why, d’ye see,” cried the gentleman,
“1 rund a race with Murphy the other day
and beat him : and to-day, I rund a race
with Michael and Killarney, and 1 beat
him too. Then I took Michael and Mur
phy both together, and we had another
race, and I beat both of'em at once. So,
by St. Patrick, I can run as fast as both of
em put together.
A Novel use of a Kiss. —A gent, not
many days since and not may miles from
Lewiston, returning from a sleigh iide, on
arriving at the paternal mansion of his la[
dy, gave and received a kiss of friendship,
as he supposed ; but alas ! the sequel will
show how much he was mistaken, for the
door having been closed, he overheard the
following conversation .
“Why, Lucy, ain’t you ashamed to kiss
a man out there all alone with nim I When
I was a girl I would not have done it for
the world.”
“No, ma, I am not,” answered Lucy :
“for I only kissed him to smell his breath,
to see if he hadn'tbeen drinking