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A POEM BY TOM PAINE.
In the regions of clouds, where the whirl
winds arise,
My castle of fancy was built;
The turrest reflected the blue of the skies,
And the windows with sunbeams were gilt.
The rainbow sometimes, in its beautiful
stats,
Enamell’d the mansion aroond ;
And the figures that fancy in clouds can
create
Supplied me the garden and ground.
I had grottos, and fountains, and orange-tree
groves,
I had all that enchanted has told;
I had sweet shady walks for the gods and
their loves,
I had mountains of coral and gold.
Hut a storm that I felt not had risen and
roll’d,
W hile enrapted in a slumber I lay;
And when I looked out in the morning, be
hold 1
My castle was carried away.
I passed over rivers and valleys and groves,
Ihe world was all in my view;
I thought of my friends, of their fates, of their
loves,
And often, full often of you.
At length it came over a beautiful scene,
Which nature in silence had made;
The place was but small, but ’twas sweetly
serene,
And checker’d with sunshine and shade.
I gaz’d and I envied with painful good will
And grew tired of my seat in the air;
When, all of a sudden, my cs stle stood still,
As if some attraction was there.
Like a lark from the sky it came fluttering
down,
And plac and me exactly in view ;
When whom should I meet in this charming
retreat,
This corner of calmnes, but you.
Delighted to find you in honor and < ase,
1 lielt no sorrow and pain ;
And the wind coming fair, I ascended the
breeze,
And went back to my castle again.
The Deid Sea.
Ti ere are on the surface of the earth
1' v. lower than the ocean
level; one is the Caspian Sea in Asia,
which is 80 feet below the ocean level,
and another the Dead Sea in Palestine,
which is not less than 1,340 feet below
the neighboring Mediterranean. The
water which this sea receives, as is well
his nines principally from the River
■ . 'iid it evaporates just about as
fast as it runs in, which explains why its
level is nearly uniform. A freshet in
the Jordan causes only a temporary rise
in the Dead Sea, but this causes an over
flow of its banks and an increase of sur
face, and a consequent increase in evap
oration, which very soon causes the sea
to return to its former limits. The
amount of evaporation per square foot of
surface amounts, according to observa
tion, to more than 400 pounds of water
per year, owing to the extreme heat and
dryness of the atmosphere. Asa col
umn of 400 pounds of water of one square
foot section is about six feet high, this
would lower the surface of the Dead Sea
six feet pervear,and as the area of the Dead
Sea is 372 square miles, or nearly 10,000,-
000,000 square feet from which the evap
oration, at 400 pounds per square foot a
year, amounts to 2,000,000,000 tons, it is
this amount of water which the River Jor
dan supplies per year so as to keep the sur
face of the Dead Sea at about the same
level. The total amount of rain falling
©u Palestine per year is estimated, in
round numbers, at 30,000,000,000 tons, of
which one-fifth reaches the outlets of the
rivers, the balance being absorbed by
vegetation, or again evaporated where it
foils, or before it reaches the outlets of
the streams. Of these 0,000,000,000 tons
scarcely a third, or 2,000,000,000 tons,
flows through the River Jordan into the
Dead Sea, and it i® exactly this amount
that is evaporated every year.
Sow New York Banks are Watched.
Every bank and every hotel in New
York city has its own private detective,
who watches all wlio come and all who
go, from the partner aud offices to the
bell boys and messengers. It is told of
the president of a well known banking
institution that now and again he sends for
someone of his clerks and holds some
such conversation as this:
“ Last Tuesday,”he will say, “you spent
the evening at Jones’ billiard saloon,did
you not?”
“ Yes, sir,” will stammer the astonished
clerk.
“ You took during the evening six
rounds of drinks with your three com
panions, whieh you paid for four, did vou
uot?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the astonished
youth.
“•Then you went to Mills’s and lost
#lo at faro; is it not so? Don’t deny it
—I know. I know all about you.”
The President will then go on and tell
his man where he lives, how he lives,
whom he associates with and where he
gets his clothes; all this to let him see
thst he is watched, and to warn him
wrong-doing of auy kind.
Without discussing the wisdom of sub
jecting a man to such a system of sur
veillance as this, without defending the
niau who has so little self-respect as to
submit to it, it must be said that it is
very effective in keeping young men in
the right path.
dl)c (piijlctljciqn' (Cello.
BY T. L. GANTT.
THE DONATION PARTY AT WILLOW
BROOK.
So many confused and contradictory
rumors have been circulated about that
last donation party that I (who have
heard the whole story from my friend
and neighbor, Miss Mix) would like to
give the world a plain, unvarnished ac
count of the whole festivity.
Let me, then, introduce my informant,
Miss Melissa Mix, spinster, owning to
forty, moderately well endowed with this
world’s goods, houskeeper and caretaker
for her only brother Ralph, some years
her senior, both oftliem prominent mem
bers of the Willowbrook church—and
thus heralded, she shall tell you the story
she told me.
“ Ofcourse we can’t give our minister
much of a salary, you know, Miss Har
wood ; but we’ve always calkilated to get
a man whose heart wasn’t set on filthy
lucre, as the ’Postle says.
“I must own we hain’t had much suc
cess, for, would you believe it? out of
five candidates that preached here the
year we built the church, not one was
willin’ to stay and do the Lord’s work.
“ Why there’s only about sixty fami
lies in our church, and it was settled
that the first winter si* dollars a family
would be a fair tax, makiu’ nigh onto
four hundred a year, you see ; yet it’s
wonderful what trouble we’ve had to git
a pastor.
“ Brother Ralph thought that maybe if
we had a parsonage it would help us; so
he and the other trustees bought that nice
little cottage where Miss Gray used to live
with a whole rod of land belongin’ to it;
but,law I ’twa n’t of no use; none of’em
staid the year out; and I was clean dis
couraged.
“ When Mr. Ormsby came, nigh onto
three years ago, he seemed more reasona
ble than the rest, though he asked if
we couldn’t furnish part of the parson
age for him, as they were only new be
ginners, and hadn’t much housekeeping
stuff.
“ Well, the ladies were so well pleased
with him that they took right hold of the
work (he was to come back in a fortnight)
and got lots of things together.
“ I here was a haudsome pincushion
made for each of the bedrooms—there’s
three on ’em in the house—and half a
dozen tidies for the parlor, and a case for
his shavin’ paper, and all sent in the first
week.
“ You’ve lieerd him preach, Miss Har
wood, and you know how interestin’ he
was, and what a beautiful reader and sing
er too. \V by, I declare I took real
comfort goin’ to church and sillin’ under
such preachin’ and so we all did, I’m
sure.
“ But I was tellin’ you about what we
gave him. Well, Deacon Stiles’s daugh
ter Sally made a drawin’ of the church,
and framed it in pine cones, to hang in
Mr. Ormsby’s study, and the deacon he
sent us a cookin’ stove out of his own
kitchin. He’d just bought anew one
for Miss Stiles, and he come over and
put it up himself, which I thought was
uncommon kind.
“ Then we took up a contribution to
buy some furniture, but ready money was
skarse just then, so we only raised enough
to git a pair of chiny vases and an ink
stand.
“ But Silas Hart, that sold ’em to us,
was one of our members, so he threw in
a chiny dog for the baby and a match
box for the parson’s wife.
“Miss Jones and Uncle MidiaiVsent in
anew painted bedstead and a kitchen
table, and so I told Ralph I’d give ’em a
couple of kitchen chairs and our cradle,
the one we was both rocked in. So I
did, and I pieced a real handsome little
quilt for the cradle, a sunflower pattern,
all out of spick and span new calico too.
“ Well, it’s most too had to tell, but
Mandv Jones, who went to help Miss
Ormsby git to rights, told me that she
did act dreadful, and not a bit becomin’
a minister’s wife.”
“She went all round the house lookin’
as if she was ready to cry, and at last
she sot down in the parlor on the trunk,
and began to laugh at the vases and the
inkstaud, and then wound up by findin’
fault with the stove, which she said look
ed as if it came out of the ark.
“ I’ve always thought she made her
husband discontented,for Mr.Ormsby was
such a meek, quiet, unselfish man that he
never would have made any trouble if
she hadn’t been always complainin’ and
puttin’ him up to grumble.
“ But I’m wanderin’ off from my story
—I started to tell you about the donation
party. You see, the first year we got
along splendid with it, and I must say I
never saw a better table spread than we
set that night for Miss Ormsby.
“ But that woman never could be sat- \
isfied, and she said afterward that it |
would not take more than two such par
ties to ruin a family !
“It seems she found fault because we
all staid to tea with ’em, just as if we
hadn’t a right to our tea after sendin’ in
all the victuals for it.
“ But I don’t know as Aunt Betsy did
do exactly right, for she took Miss Orms
by’s preserves to put on the table, and j
they was all eat that night, and I s’pose
that put her out some.
“ Well, as I was savin’, the second year
come round, and it was read out in meet
in’ that the donation party would be ;
given the next Friday.
“ Mr. Ormsby read the notice, and
hen he looked all around and cleared his
LEXINGTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 2, 1877.
J throat two or three times, as if he had
j somethin’ pertickler to say, but after
j waitin’ a minute he changed his mind
| and sat down.
“ I thought he acted kinder queer, but
I was quite taken up with noticin’ Miss
Ormsby. She got as red as could be, and
when meetin’ was dismissed she jest hur
rid out as if she didn’t want any one to
speak to her.
“ Well, Friday came, and by three
o’clock we was mostly all at the parson
age. Mr. Ormsby looked dreadful sober,
more as if it was a funeral than a merry
makin’, I must say; but his wife was
awful. She was jest as huffy and sharp
as she could be with every one, and she
went and locked the study door and put
the key in her pocket right before us all,
as if she was afraid we’d touch some
of Mr. Ormsby’s papers or books.
“ Bimeby we began to think about
settin’ the table ; so Aunt Betsy, Mandy
Jones, and me went out in the kitchen
to unpack the contribution. There was
some pertaters and turnip (them we put
in thesuller), a piece of corned beef, two
or three biled hams, a pot of butter,some
apple sass, a big cheese, and such a lot of
biscuits it would have taken all night to
count ’em.
“ I began to he scared when w,e took out
panful after panful of biseuit, and no cake
to speak of. At last we come to Miss
Jones’s baskets and there we found’elec
tion cake, as well a great batch of mo
lasses cookies.
“ I was glad enough I’d sent pound
cake and crullers; but somehow when
the table was ready, there was more bis
cuit on it than any thing else, though we
did our best.
“ Mr. Johnson sent tea and coffee from
his store, besides sugar and crackers: and
Amus Hull he brought a bag of nuts and
some apples for the young folks after
supper, he said.
“ There was so many there that we had
to divide’em into three lots, the dinin’
room bein’small; and it was ’most sev
en o’clock when they got though eatin.
“ Aunt Betsy staid with me to clear up
some; and I thought I never should get
all the biscuits put away, for they ’most
filled the pantry.
“ For all there had been so many eaten
yet there was piles left, and, as Aunt
Betsy said, they wouldn’t need to bake
for a month to come.
“ It happened so that I didn’t go out
much the week after.the donation party,
but, the second Sunday after, I started
off', good and early, for church, and as I
turned the corner by the parsonage, I saw
something that ’most took my breath
away. Every one of them sharp pointed
pickets round the house and garden had
a good biscuit stuck right atop of it!
Yes, Miss Harwood, jest as sure as you
live there was Aunt Betsy’s nice raised
biscuits—l could tell her’n by the shape
—and Miss Hull’s rusks and Miss Stiles’
soda biscuit, and ever}’ one of ’em wasted
in that shameful way.
“ Well, I stood and looked—l hadn’t
the strength to move—and pretty soon
some of the ladies came along and jined
me; and there we all stood till the last
bell began to ring, talk’ll’ the matter
over aud feelin’ pretty mad, I can tell
you.
“ Mr. Ormsby had a good sermon that
day, but 1 could hardly hear a word, my
mind was so full of biscuit.
“ Miss Ormsby wasn’t there arid as soon
as the last hymn was sung, he got up and
said that he had had a call from a church
in the far West, and that he had made
up his mind that it was his duty to ac
cept it. He went on to say that he would
like to go the same week, and then, with
out so much as tellin’ us that he was sor
ry to leave us, or offerin’ to wait until we
could get someone else, he gave the ben
ediction and dismissed us.
“ I can tell you there was talk enough
when we got out that mornin’, and some
of the folks thought we ought to ’pint a
committee to ask Miss Ormsby about it,
but brother Ralph said, * No, if they was
goin’, let em go peaceableso they all
agreed to say nothin’ at all.
“ We heard afterward from little John
ny Hall, who was playin’ near the par
sonage late on Saturday afternoon, that
Mr. Ormsby he brought the biscuit out
in a big basket, and then Miss Ormsby
she helped him to stick them on the pick
ets, and she laughed all the time as if it
was a good joke.
“ I don’t want to judge anybody, but
I never did think that woman was fit for
a minister’s wife, and I don’t think so
now.
“ Well, they moved off, bag and bag
gage, on Wednesday of that week, and
we’ve never heard from Mr. Ormsby
since, and I don’t know as we want to,
seein’ he hurt our feelin’s so, though
we’ve never found as good a preacher as
he was, and never will.”
And this was Miss Melissa’s story.
—The skeleton of a cat walked into
Ryan’s store in Hohokus. Ryan seeing
her bawled out, “ Mickey, didn’t I tell i
ye a month ago to feed that cat a pound :
of mate a day until ye had her fat?
You did; and I am just after fadeing
her a pound. Has that cat ate a pound
this morning? Yes, sir. Sure. I think
it is a lie ye’er telling. Bring me those *
scales. Now bring me that cat. The
cat turned the scale at exactly one pound.
There, didn’t I tell ye she had eaten a
pound of mate this mornin 4 ? All right,
my boy; there is yer pound of mate; but
where the divil is the cat ?
How a Stranger Came.
“ Here again, are you!” exclaimed
the court, as Mrs. Walter wheeled around
in front of him.
“ And it was the funniest thing you
ever heard tell of,” she smilingly re
plied.
“ What did I tell you when you were
here six weeks ago ?”
“ Oh, well that’s a different thing,
your Honor, and I’ll tell vou how it was.
You see, my husband went down town
and got his hair cut, his whiskers shaved,
and his face washed, put on a paper
collar and necktie, and when he came
home I didn’t know him. I was frying
pancakes in the kitchen, and when he
opened the door I thought it wae a tramp,
and says: ‘ Now, you clear out, you
lazy man.’ Then my husband says in
a very mild voice, unnatural: ‘ Susie,
you are the finest lady in Detroit.’ With
that I got mad, your Honor, for I couldn’t
have a stranger talking that way to me,
and I threw the spider at him, chased
him half a block. Wasn’t it strange,
Judge, that I didn’t know my own dar
ling, precious husband?”
“ Very strange, indeed,” was his chill
ing answer, and he called up Mr. Walter.
“ You see,” began the husband, “ I
was sitting by the stove to warm my
toes, when this woman, says she:
‘ Come, you great beast, go out after some
wood !’ When I wouldn’t go she came
softly behind me and hit me with an old
stove leg, and then she got a knife and
chased me into the street.” .
“ Ah ! my angelic Henry—my precious
husband!” sighed the wife, winking to
him to hold on.
“She’s a bad woman,” he continued.
“She’s about half Satan and half wild
cat, and my life is an awful one.”
“ Oh, my darling, precious, golden,
beautiful Henry !” she protested.
“ I thiuk sixty days or thereabout in
the star-spangled corridors of the House
of Correction will help your temper,”
observed the court.
“ How can I leave my jewel-plated
diamond of a husband !” she wailed.
“ Oh ! Tlenry, remember how I saved
your life in Schenectady !”
“ You saved it with a spade over my
head I” he growled, and then hacked out
and left her to fall off the red saw-horse
in a dead faint.
A Base Trick.
Strangers often remark that Detroit
ladies seem to have a great fondness for
carrying gold watches, and any person
walking ten blocks on Woodward or
Jefferson avenues will see, if it is a fine
day, at least oue hundred ladies with
gold chains hanging down to the watch
pocket. But, is the watch there? On a
Woodward avenue car yesterday there
was a dozen ladies and only one gentle
man. Satan must have put it in his
heart to do a mean thing. Taking out
his watch he looked at it, shooked it,
sighed heavily and said : •
“ Ought to have been cleaned a week
ago. Will you please give me the time?”
The lady addressed had on a magnifi
cent chain, but she blushed, half rose,
sat down again and whispered :
“ My—my watch is out of order.”
“ You have the time, perhaps?” He
asked of the next.
“ Yes, sir—it’s 10 o’clock,” she replied,
looking out of the window.
“ Does your time agree with that?”
he asked of the third.
“ I believe so,” she coldly replied,
though she well knew that her chain was
pinned to her dress.
And what does your watch say?” he
smilingly asked the fourth.
“ It’s a little slow,l think,” she answer
ed, drawing her shawl closer.
The fifth lady had a watch, and a fine
one, too. She drew it out with as much
display as possible, and called out:
“Ten minutes after eleven J”
The gentleman smiled, the other four
ladies bit their lips and scowled, and the
driver shook the lines and called out:
“Go on, now, you old raw-bones 1”
The Expense of War.
In a recent lecture at King’s College,
London, Professor Leone Levi spoke a
useful word in good season. With re
markable clearness he dealt a with diffi
cult and delicate subject, suggested by
the uneasy state of the public mind, dis
turbed as it is by the rumors of war.
That peace was the handmaid of com
merce, the thesis he set himself to prove
and, leaving out his political inferences,
we may venture to say that there was
nothing in his address to which exception
could be reasonably taken. Professor
Levi says the Seven Years’ War cost us
£83,000,000, the revolt of the American
colonies £98.000,000, the old wars with
France £831,000,000, —indeed, £1,000,-
000 would be perhaps a more accurate
estimate; the two opium wars with China
£B,Boo,ooo,the Kaffir war £2,000,000, the
Russian war £69,000,000, the Persian ex
pedition £900,000, the New Zeiand war
£BIXI,OOO, and the Abyssinian war
£8,000,000. This dees not and cannot
fairly represent the actual cost of war as
it presses on the taxpayer. Perhaps it
represents a little more than one tenth
of the money England has had to pay for
the luxury of fighting with her neigh
bors ; and, if that be true, war must then
have cost that country in the course of a
century and a quarter the monstrous sura
of £11,040, 000,000 sterling, or $>5,2000,
000,0<X).
A STORY OF SCANDAL.
A few years since a lady purchased a
home in the beautiful village of Milford,
about thirty- five miles from Boston, as
she longed for fresh air and quiet scenes :
and doubtless she would have found all
the happiness that she sought in this ru
ral retreat, had not the place been haunt
ed by that terrible spectre — scandal.
“ Have you seen the new arrival ?”
said Mrs. Graves to her neighbor, Mrs.
Wood, a few days after the stranger took
possession of Fern Dell, as the little place
she had purchased was now called.
A curl of the lip and shrug of the
shoulders was all the reply made by Mrs.
Wood ; but iu the gestures Mrs. Graves
saw, or supposed she saw, a sufficent rea
son for shunning the acquaintance of the
stranger.
Mrs. Graves, who was very jealous and
suspicious, translated the language in her
own way.
“ I have no doubt,” said she to her hus
band, “ that she had a bad reputation in
the city. She has come here dressed in
deep mourning, but who knows whether
she ever had a husband or not ? And if
she had, her wearing black is no sign
he’s dead, in my opinion.”
The next day quite a crowd had gath
ered in the store of Mr. Graves, waiting
for the arrival of the mail, which was due
about this hour.
The stranger came in to make some
trifling purchases, and was stared at by
the people, as strangers always are in
small villages.
After she left the store, some remarks
were made about her ladylike appear
ance.
“ Yes, she appears enough like a lady,”
said Mr. Graves; “ but my wife thinks
her reputation is none of the best.”
Customers entering, nothing more was
said at that time, but the fire of scandal
was kindled—the story spread rapidly,
each one telling it their own way, until
there was not a person in the village but
had heard the rumor and believed it to
be true.
Days and weeks passed away, and the
inmate of Fern Dell felt that for some
reason she was looked upon with suspic
ion and dislike.
There was no hospitality, nothing said
or done for which she could demand an
explanation.
Every day seemed to increase the
avoidance of her neighbors; and she,
noticing this, making overtures
toward an acquaintance with them,send
ing to the city for her household sup
plies, and never coming in contact with
any save at church, and even here she
generally found a whole seat at her dis
posal.
At last the storm that had so long ob
scured the village horizon seemed about
to burst over her head.
There were low threats made of driv
ing her from the place, and the mob
spirit seemed to be gathering strength.
About six month after the stranger
took possession of the cottage, a very
handsome carriage, drawn by a span of
splendid black horses, stopped in front
of her dwelling, and a fine looking man,
about sixty years of age, with his wife
and two daughters, were seen to alight
and enter the house.
All the day and through the long
evening there was heard the sound of
many voices, mingled with the rippling
laughter of joyous hearts.
The next day was Sunday, but this
time the stranger did not sit alone.
Strange looks and low murmured words
ran through the congregation, and the
minister seemed to share the surprise of
his audience, and looked and preached
as though under painful embarrassment.
He recognized in the stranger a clergy
man whose reputation was world-wide—
none other than the distinguished presi
dent of the college from which he had
graduated.
The president remembered his former
pupil, but it must be confessed that he
was both surprised and disappointed.
He had given the young man credit
for individual talent, but the sermon was
a mere repetition of poor platitudes, and
a truckling to produce public opinion,
which showed a weak and little mind.
After the service was over the presi
dent waited a moment until the young
minister came forward, and when the
greetings were over he said kindly :
“My sister wrote me that Robert Mar
tin was preaching here, but I did not con
nect the name with the memory of my
former pupil.”
“ Your sister?” said the embarrassed
young man. “You do not mean to say
that the woman with whom you entered
church is your sister?”
“ And why not ?”
It was the president’s turn to look as
tonished.
Sure enough, why not ?
What did he know against the woman
whom all had been speaking evil of for
the last half year ?
“ There is something about this matter
that I cannot understand,” said the pres
ident. “ You do not mean to say that
sister has been a resident of the village,
and listened to your preaching for six
months, without your calling upon her?
The duties of a minister are surely better
defined”
“ But I did not dare !” and the poor
man stammered and stopped.
“ Did not dare to call on my sister, the
willow of Colonel Kimball ?” and the
tinge of contempt was mingled with a
VOL. Ill—NO. 17.
look of surprise and indignation as he
contemplated the abashed and crestfallen
young preacher.
After reaching his sister’s residence, he
questioned her in regard to the matter ;
but she could only tell him that since her
residence in the place she had been “'let
alone,” in the fullest acceptance of the
term.
Determined to understand the why and
wherefore of such a proceeding, he again
demanded an explanation of the young
pastor, who was finally compelled to ad
mit that he had supposed, from the gos
sip of the church members, that the wo
man was a very outcast from society, and
that there had been talk of driving hir
from the place.
“She will not care to remain,” said the
president ; “ but before she goes I will
sift the matter thoroughly and so he
did,gather n; up, link by link, the whole
chain of scandal, until he came to Mrs.
Wood. But this she utterly denied, and
Mrs. Graves was obliged to confess that
Mrs. Wood had merely -shrugged her
shoulders aud curled her lip when asked
her opinion of their new neighbor.
“ Ah, indeed !” was the rejoinder of
Mrs. Wood, “ I remember of thinking
she couldn’i be much of a lady, as she
wore faded delaine and did her own
washing.”
The president preached on the follow
ing Sunday, and at the conclusion of his
discourse, repeated tne story of wrong
adding: „
“ Had this woman really been poor and
friendless, as supposed, what would the
end have been ? Deprived of her good
name, and in consequence, of all means
of earning her livelihood, she would have
been discouraged and despondent, and
sunk down to the grave a victim of the
scandal of those falsely calling themselves
Christians; but who, in the sight of
Heaven, would not only have been liars,
but murderers.”
Aunt Doleful’s Visit.
“ How do you do, Cornelia ? I heard
you were ill, and I stepped in to cheer
you up a little. My friends often say,
‘ It’s such a comfort to see you, Aunt
Doleful. You have such a flow of con
versation, and are so lively.’ Besides, I
said to myself, as I came upstairs, ‘Per
haps it’s the last time I shall ever see
Cornelia Jane alive.’ You don’t mean
to die yet, eh ? Well, now, how do you
know ? You can’t tell. You think you
are getting better, but there was poor Mrs.
Jones sitting up, and every one saying
how much better she was, and all of a
sudden she was taken with spasms in the
heart and went off like a flash. Jemima
is young to bring the baby up by hand.
But you must be careful, and not get ex
cited and anxious. Keep quite calm,
and don’t fret about anything. Of
course, things can’t go on just as if you
were down stairs ; and I wondered wheth
er you knew your little Billy was sailing
about in a tub on the millpond, and that
your little Sammy was letting your little
Jimmy down from the balcony in a
clothes basket. Gracious, goodness, what
is the matter ? I dare say Providence’ll
take care of him. Don’t look so. You
thought Bridget was watching them?
Well, no she isn’t. I saw her talking to
a man at the gate. He looked at me like
a burglar. No doubt she’ll let him take
the impression of the key in wax, and
then he’ll get in and murder you all.
There was a family at Kobble Hill all
killed last week for a few pounds. Now
don’t fidget so; it will be bad for the ba
by. Poor little dear! How singular it is,
to be sure, that you can’t tell whether a
child is blind, or deaf and dumb, or crip
ple at that age! It might be all, and
you’d never know it. Most of them that
have their senses make bad use of them,
though ; that ought to be your comfort,
if it does turn out to have anything dread
ful the matter with it. And many don’t
live a year. I saw a baby’s funeral down
the street as I came along. Dear! dear!
Now to think what a dreadful things
hang over us all the time. Dear ! dear!
Scarlet fever has broken out in the town,
Cornelia. Little Isaac Potter has it and
I saw your Jimmy playing with him last
Saturday. Well, I must be going now’.
I’ve got another sick friend, and I shan’t
think my duty done unless I cheer her
up a little before I sleep. Good-bye.
How pale you look, Cornelia! I don’t be
lieve you have a good doctor. Do send
him away and try someone else. Yon
don’t look so well as you did when I came
in. But if anything happens, send for me
at once. 'I II can’t do anything else I can
cheer you up a little.”
—Said the eloquent auctioneer, who
was selling the old court-house at Ra
cine: “To an antiquarian fond of rev
elling in past, this venerable
pile is worth half a fortune. These ceil
ings have reverberated to the eloquence
of great and noble men. Of those who
have stood conspicuous within its portals
many are dead, some have advanced to
great wealth and fame; some, alas! are
in Congress, and a goodly number are in
the State prison. How much am I offer
ed for this building?” Hereupon Nick
Miller bid S3O, and the musty and vener
able pile was immediately knocked down
to him.
rV _ _
—Fairbanks, the scale man, borrowed
five dollars to commence with and is now
worth $3,000,000. Go and borrow five
dollars, young man.
all? (Orjldhurpf
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DEVILTRIES.
—The original bull-doser—the cow
doctor.
—lt now appears that the red man is
the pull-back ou the out-skirts of civili
zation.
—A reward is offered for the man who
isn’t an heir to the Vanderbilt or Stew
art estate.
—Chinese soldiers are paid two cents
a day. The captains insist that they are
w orth three cents.
—“ Is there auy person you would
wish me to marry?” said a wife to a dy
ing spouse, who had been somewhat of a
tyrant in his day. “ Marry the devil, if
you like,” was the gruff reply. “ No, I
thank you, my dear; one husband from
the is enough for me.”
—An educated young man wer.t to
Mississippi a few years since. His
friends were proud of him, and said he
would be heard in the world before
many years. They were right; the
young man now beats a gong at a rail
road station.
—American drummers and canvas
sers must look to their laurels, since re
cent history records the fact that a com
mercial traveller of Bermingham, who
tracked his victim to a holiday festival,
entered the car of the balloon in which
the worthy tradesman was about to make
an ascent, and began the conversation,
as the car cleared the first trees: “ Well,
sir, what can I do for you in calicoes?”
A boy in a Sunday school proposed
a question to be answered the Sunday
following: “ How many letters does the
Bible contain ?” The answer was three
millions, five hundred and thirty-three.
The superintendent says to James : “ Is
that right?” “No, sir,” was the prompt
reply. “ Will you please tell us how
many there are, then ?” “ Twenty-six,
sir.”
—Two men were conversing in front
of the post office of the condition of a
third party, a friend of both, but whom
one of them had not seen for several
years. “ You say he lives near to Spring
field and is quite sick?” said one. “ Yes,
very sick, indeed, when I was there a
week ago. I don’t think he can live
more—more than ” “Thau what?”
interrupted the other, in a fever of anxi
ety. “ More than five miles from
Springfield,” was the reply. “Oh !” said
the other spasmodically.
Australian Remedy for Sore Throat.
A correspondent of the Queenslander
gives the following cure for sore throat :
It cannot be too generally knowu thatall
forms of sore throat, whether simple ul
cerated, quinsy, diphtheria, scarlet fever,
or otherwise, can be either totally cured
or greatly alleviated by simply wearing
a soft old silk kerchief twice around the
neck, high up and next the skin, espe
cially if worn at night when the pain is
first felt. Like Naaman, the Syrian, peo
ple will take any trouble but the right
one, and fly to gargles, blisters, lotions,
pills, etc., and keep at them for a month
at a time ; but an old silk square—why
it’s too absurb, and so they hug their
sore throat and wonder why it don’t get
better. Not only does the silk cure the
sore throat, but it prevents a recurrence
of it. I was formerly a martyr to quinsy
and ulcerated sore throat, and used to
have a whole mouth of it regularly every
winter, and in spite, too, of all the usual
battery of pills, gargles, etc., it ran its
course until I tried the silk; the sore
throat then took the hint, and has left
me alone ever since as a bad customer.
I invariably killed it within an hour of
any attempt it makes upon me; an old
sore throat will take a day to cure. Mind,
i do no not pretend to say that the silk
will cure fever or any other symptoms or
complication that may accompany sore
throat, but this Ido say, that it will cure
and remove all pain and difficulty of
swallowing in the throat without the aid
of any local remedy, or it will do it in
spite of them, if you do apply them and
it both, but, without it, cure only comes
by nature, not physic, as far as the sore
throat goes; other remedies do neither
good nor harm, except as they keep you
from trying the infallible silk.
mm •
J\*otice to Debtor*.
All administrators, executors, trustees
and guardians who are owing costs in
the Ordinary’s office will please come up
and settle immediately and save addi
tional cost, as I am compelled to have
what is due me or beg my board.
Thomas D. Gilham, Ordinary.
January 18th, 1877.
How to et Kid of Rats.
To banish rats, plant asphodel near the
barn or stable where they are, or put
some in their holes. Rats have such an
aversion for this plant that they will quit
the premises where it is. If they are iu
drains or cellars, scatter sulphate of iron
(copperas) in their runs. The copperas
should not be dissolved. It is our best
and cheapest disinfection. The sulphu
ric acid burns their feet and they leave
in a short time, without dying* This
will be appreciated by every housekeeper
who has to endure the stench of a dead
rat.
Since Chicago and St. Louis have had
their lady lawyers, Boston has become
ambitious, and now has a iady architect.