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Obituary notices, Tribute* <»l ih>|»ect, and all
article* of ft peisoual character, charged lor «i*
tilvertfocmenl*.
For announcing candidate* for office, SIO.OO
poetical
THE i’UAYER OFTIIE IJETIIOTIIEH.
A lade in the St. T*«»uU Vniort, over the sig
nature ot • In«leX," portrays her thouglits in the
following beautiful verse*, on the eve ol her mar
riage:
Father, I come before Thy Throne,
With 1 H t* aid bended knee,
„To (hank Thee wnil a grateful tune,
For all thy love to me.
Forgive me if my heart this hour,
I give not all to Thee,
For deep ulFectloii'a mighty power
Divides it now with Thee.
Thou kno west Father, every thought,
'Hint wuketh in my breast.
Ami -low this heart has vainly sought,
To keep its love suppressed.
Yet w hen the idol worshiped one,
Sits fondly by my side,
And breathes the tow l cannot shun,
To me, his destined bride
Forgive me if the loving kiss
Hi* Uav is upon my lm w
Istboughi ol in an hour like this,
And ih: .Us me even now;
An i omlorter through life,
Eilat" me, oh God, to prove
V ioviug, faitlitui w iter
lie knows not. Father, all the deep
Alloc lion l - mirol.
The tUonsami loving thntigUa that sweep
Resist tens o'er my “»U.^
Jit* know s not Jrom each fount of love
'i tiitt gushes warm and tree*
Nm* can lie ever, ever prove
ii\ warm idolatry.
The:, guard him. Father! round his way,
iliy choic«*st blessings cast;
Ami render each succostive day
Ftill happier thau the last.
And. Father grant us to live,
That whi n this life iso’ev.
Within the happy home you give,
We It meet to part no moie.
“THE AGKIF"
BY A . POF7T.
Once upon an ev eiling bleary,
While 1 sat me, dreamy, dreary,
In the sun-hiue thinking q or
Things that pa* « lays rs yore;
While I nodded, near!; sleeping.
fJenily came a something creeping
Fp my back 1 iL• * water seeping,
rivepiug upward Ironi the floor}
••’Tin a cooliug bree/e, :: 1 muttered,
“From the regions ’neath the floor -
Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah ! distinctly I remember.
It was in that wet September
\\ hen the earth, and every member
Ol crew itm tUat it bo e,
Had for weeks and weeks been seeking.
All along my back the creeping.
Soon gave place tc rushing, leaping,
As it countless frown demons
Had concluded to explore
All the cavities the varments
Twixt we and my nether garments,
Up into ray hair, and downward
Through my boots into the floor;
Then 1 felt myself a shaking,
Gently shaking more and more
Every moment more and more.
’Twas the Ager, and it shook me
Into heavy clothes and took me
Shaking to the kitchen—every
Place where tb«*re was warmth in store;
Shaking till the “china” rattled,
Shaking til! my molars rattled,
Shaking, and w ith ail my wanning
Feeling cokler than before;
Shaking till it had .exhausted
All its power to shake more -
Till it could uot shake me more.
Then it rested till the morrow.
When it came with all the horror
That it had the face to borrow,
Shaking, shaking as before,
And from that day in September
Day which I shall long remember,
It Cuts made diurnal visits,
Shaking, shaking oh. so sore !
Shaking off my boots and shaking
; • to bed if nothing more—
F inly this, if nothing more.
And to day the swallows flitting
Round my cottage, see mu sitting
Moodily within the sunshine,
J,ist inside my silent door.
Waiting for the Ager seeming
Dike a man forever dreaming.
And thv sunlight on u.e streaming
rflied no shadow on the floor;
For I :tm too thin and sallow
To make shadows on the floor—
Nary shadow any more!
‘Ah rue,’ said a pious lady, ‘<mr minis
ter was a powerful preacher, for the
short time lie ministered t he wold of
God among ns, he kicked three pulpits
to pieces and handed the .oiiards out ot
five bibles.’
n
MistdUmccmo.
V IL,
A STWLE IN Till! DARK.
A heat v gale was blowing front the
southwest, furiously tossing the broad
waters- f the l’ueifie, and driving- the j
foam in misty 11 ikes over the crests oi i
the roaring waves.
The moon occasionally emerging from
behind the clouds roiling in lorn masses ;
over the sky, would for t moment light
the vast wilderness of the ocean; reveal
ing the summits of the t iwering seas and
faintly lighting the walciy caverns be
tween .
Our ship—the St. Mark—rolled heavi
ly as she l>oomcd upon her way under :
close reefed top ShiU and topmast stay
sail. l-'ote and aft her timbers groaned j
like dying men while her three tail masts
jerking and straining seemed on the
point of going by the board.
Crouching behind the windlass to es- |
cape a drenching sea, that suddenly burst
over the weather bulwarks, i lottiid my
self by the side of Arhok—a tall, sttpie
i native with shoulders and breast as
bioud as those of a lion, and long Ilexi— |
i ble arms, the latter of u liich did me good
I service ; lor had not the owner tl row j
them around my body, I should certaiu
| |y Inive been swept overboard,
“A thousand thunks ! ’ I gratefully ex
I claimed when the danger was past, ''toil
j have saved my life !”
| “Yes,” answered the Malay-—for such ,
.he Wits —“me have saved your lib*, but ,
;me quick take him if you no promise to i
jsay tmlhiug of the mutt whose head me
, brake wilh cuopet’s hammer!
1 “What!” 1 gasped, staling upon him
| with amazement. "V\ hat and r you mean?
You at e jesting !”
i The eyes of ill : native Hashed like
those of a serpent 1 could see his white
i teeth gleaming in the darkness like a
1 dotted chalk line on a blackboard.
“Yes, me jest,” hi exclaimed, laughing |
I but it struck me that the laugh was
somewhat forced—“me only make tun;
so me will say ii > more about it.”
lie clutched my amt as he spoke, and
peering inn. my face with his black eyt s
probably read there the sudden suspicion
which his singular manner hud really
j excited in my mind.
•vt. f !>., almost shrieked, duelling mo
;by the throat . t me you
! no say a word about de murder and 'me
i let. you go. If not, 1 serve you de sane-
I way, and then throw you overboard, tool’
"Admit,” 1 calmly answered, pushing
his band from my throat, “you know tin
j too well to hope to get a gloat proton e
j from me by means ot a threat. I know
i nothing and now only have your words
for it of your having killed your enemy,
i the Kanaka, and—”
“Alt ! how you know who, if you not
seo me do ii t How yon know it was
j the Kanaka that me kill ! ’
‘I conclude so (Yoiti your having fought
w:!h him yesterday in the forecastle and
Ihi ha vi ng heat - ’
“He never 1 < it me—Repose my foot
not have slipped !’’ interrupted Acimk,
grinding his teeth, “lie strike me many
tones while me down; and me r w< ar me
i take Ids life. Well now so much having
; been said me may as well say till Me
I have taken his life. Me struck him down
! with cooper’s hammer and threw his
j be- tv overboard, just before you come
. belt: I the windlass.”
‘ I though! 1 heard a groan as I come
forward,” 1 answered, “hut 1 supposed 1
might have been mistaken. This is hoi - j
Hide Aehok, pet feetly horrible ; and 1— ’ :
“Promise ! Promise, you !” lie inter
rupted impatiently. “Ale have saved
your life anc! so you should be willing
not to get me hanged."
Before he coo Id reply however, he
seemed to have concluded to act accor
ding to the adage that “dead men tell
no tales,” for he again grasped me by
: the throat, and raising his kudo would
: certainly have plunged it into my bosom
il l had hot knocked it from his grasp
| bv a heavy blow upon his wrist.
I *A desperate struggle now- ensued be
tween us, and, as lie was the stronger
i party, he soon contrived te bint me upon
my buck. Putting both knees upon my
: breast, he clasped my threat with his
I skinny] hands and I believed my doom
! was scaled. The horrible pains of sub
location were beginning to reach my
throat j and brain, when a sudden roll ol
1 the ship caused tnv tormentor to fall up
jon his side. With it powerful exertion
I contrived to loosen myself from his
’ clasp,! and I then sprang to my feet.
Quick as lighting his arms were now
thrown! around me from behind, and in
: spite off all resistance on my part, I was
borne to the Ire bulwarks. A ith ins
wonderful strength lie lifted nte as I
might have lifted a child, and to my hor
ror I lulled myself suspended over the
foaming cauldron of water that raged a
longside oi the careening ship I shout
led for help, but my shipmates unfortu
nately were in the after part of the ve.s
i set, and could not hear my voice above
the din of the storm.
“Now, then,” yelled the native, “away
you go —cursed white man : “Head
men tell no talcs ! ’
He let me go as he|spoke,’A>nt I clutch
ed at a rope that hung over the bulwarks
i and notwithstanding bis efforts to shake
rue ftom it, I clung to it with a tenacity
natural under the circumstances.
The Malay fairly screamed with rage,
and suddenly I saw a knife
HEAE SHALL THE PRESS THE PEOPLE'S RIGHTS MAINTAIN, UNAWED BY FEAR AND UNBRIBED BY GAIN.
QUITMAN, GKO., SKITK.MIIKIi 18, 18(58.
gleam tig in lis linm!. lie raised it a
liove the rope and my heart sank within
me. 1 could not mis: aim his fiendish in
tent it'll of cutting the strand.
“I will die like a man !” 1 muttered ;
“aiu! may God take care of my wife and
children 1” !
Bat even as 1 spoke, the ship rolled:
her bulwarks under; and the Malay, who
h,.d incautiously leaned over them while
holding his knife suspended, fell l.ead j
Img into the dar k stormy waters, and:
was carried, shrieking, far away IVutii
the ship to leeward.
Seizing the rail, 1 regained the deck,
and hastening aft, 1 related my story to
my shipmates, whose astonishment may
bej imagined and who united in congrat
ulating me Upon my escape.
“1 never liked the looks oi ( that Malay’ |
said an old tar; “and though 1 ain’t in’
tin; habit of speaking disrespectfully ol
the dead, it’s my opinion that the chap
has met with his just deserts for murder
ing the K anaka. ’
TRAGEDY UK INDIAN HIKE.
Tim following story, from the Milwaukee II"*- j
rnt'siii. reads like a nmmnoe of Cooper's eon-,
dciiseil, but, i* sai I to he a record of facta gather- I
e,l by a gentleman who is cnlleeiiny material for j
a history of the upper Mississippi Valley:
,\ parly of thirty Winnehagoes came j
down from the scalp dance at, which the
tribe was gathered on the Trcmpeleuu
River, in the North, and encamped on
French Island, in the Mississippi River,
just above the St. Paul’s Railroad depot J
at Ha i rosso.
The hand was under the control of a |
well known chief of the Winnehagoes
named V’un-Uee-see-lmong or-cr, or Snake
Chief, who had two wives, Se es ka and
line nee keo. Se-cska was about thirty
years ot age, graceful in appearance,
with a p easant look and an interesting
face. With whites she was a favorite,
while with |jtlie Winnebngoes she was
i looked upon very kindly—indeed, adored
j with all the ardor of Indian fervor. Snake
, Chief was a warrior of the Winnehagoes
and was very much liked by his tribe.—
lie was a powerful arid brawny fellow,
| nud when sober was peaceful and good
’ outlin'd ; when drunk lie was ugly ami
! disagreeable. One of his favorite pas
times when in this condition was beating
his wives.
On Friday last SnakeJGhief returned to j
his wigwam drunk. Se es ka was in the i
wigwam, and tlm chief commenced bent
.../, -—it... bo..ii mi,il shoulders. —:
] Driven to desperation, and unable longer
to stand his brutali y she drew her knife
| and slabbed the chief twice the blade ;
, penetrating the heart of the warrior, who
,|ied instantly, while the firstprotes of the
I death song were on his lips. The afluir
at on up created a sensation among the j
Waiinebugoos, who did not know how to j
net. They lined their chief and : v
loved their chieftains wife. It is a 'Veil j
known “regulation” among the Indians ]
i that when a man is slain, a relati ve inust j
avenge his death by taking the life ol !
I lie slayer. 8e es-ku knew this. Some of j
the bngi.es urged her to fly, but
: she would not With line Indian resig
i nation, she folded her blanket about lioi
and sat down in her wigwam, lacing thej
door, and awaited her avenger. It was)
believed by. many that lie nee-kee, tin
young and favorite wife, would be thej
avenger, but she seemed to have no such j
intention. She mourned the loss of her
husband, but took no steps farther than j
to send a runner up the Trembclca n
! where Snake Chief’s relatives were, to
notify them of what, had taken place.-
M can while, Se-es-ka . .it in her cabin,j
j ehanling the death song stoically, indil
: fe,ent to what was going on about her,
and only talking when questions were
asked In r.
On Sunday morning, an Indian from j
Trempelean made Ins appearance in j
camp. He was known as (Jhan-iio-iie ga
and had evidently traveled without hal- j
ting since he learned the death of Snake
Chief. Entering the camp without a
word he walked solemnly to the place
where the hotly of Snake •Cli'el lay, took j
a | on g lock at it, and then turned sullen
ly away. Nobody spoke to him, all
watched with interest his movements. j
Deliberately loading his gun with buck j
shot, lie uuiiiterruptedfy walked deliber
ately to the wigwam where Sees ka sat,
she having remained there since tire niurj
dor and took one look at the woman who
! loudly chanted the death song. Not a;
muscle of the woman's face moved, to .
denote that she labored under any ex
eit. incut, but she sat tlicie quietly and
calmly her eyes moving upwards, and
her voice ns the uncouth song escaped
j her lips steady and firm. She knew the
avenger was b fore her—that in another
t moment her spirit would leave the ltail
tenement of clay and seek that of the
j chief who had gone before her; yet no
look or sign indicated that sue feared the
fate. Such is ludiau stoicism and indif
ference.
The eyes of the two did not meet. In
! the face of Chan-no ne-ga there was a
1 l„„k of mingled hate and rvvenge- De
liberately he raised his musket to his
I shoulder —deliberately lie aimed it at
! the woman’s head—cooly he fired. Ihe
| report rang out through the Indian camp
—the smoke cleared away—Se-es ka still
! sat there —her blanket a bout her her
'arms folded—but one s.-.c of her head
was completely away—her sp tit had
| fled and the code of Indian justice was
j satisfied —Wan kee-se-ho ng-er-er was a
venged.
j The murderer, with just a look to sat
isfy him that his work had been well done
shouldered his musket and walked delib
erately out of the camp. Nobody spoke |
to him- nobp.!y ‘dr.-red any interference, |
and stepping into his canoe lie paddled
to shore and disappeaied in the woods,
leaving the NYium lingoes stupefied.
THE WORLD OWES ME A LIVING.
This is one of Iho vile stereotyped
falsehoods that loafers and roughs of nil
sorts of use as an apology for their lazi
ness and oilier rascalities.
The Jeremy ditldler who sponges on
society comforts himself w.th the idea
that he is only getting some of the debt
which the world owes him.
The thief sometimes intimates that in
helping himself out of somebody’s t 11, he
was nictely taking his own. It was a j
part of the debt uncaucellcd that society j
that enormous bankrupt—had refused to
pay. |
Tile whole theory is I also and fraudu
lent. The rule is the reverse. We owe j
the world an upright life, and i t return j
the world will give us a living.
The lounger about the grogshops, or J
other places of loafing, may told his:
mines in idleness, under the consolation ;
of being so large a cteditor; tmt wo will j
just tell lorn the world will pay him tllli-j
mutely. It will square off with an in j
stalment of hunger, provco ly ami con
tempt, degradation, and the almshouse. |
It will give him rich dividends ot scorn j
and starvation, and finally pay him in
lull with six feet of earth in the pauper’s
grave. Perhaps as he goes along, he
will receive occasionally payments “on
account,” by generous orders on the
county jail or State Prison. In ttieAat
ler uluee we believe the world throws
in anew suit ot clothes of beautifully
variegated colors.
Our advice to young men is to trust
to their two good hands, their bruins,
tlicir industry, and their honesty torn
living. V\ it It such aids—strong sell re
liance, backed by indomitable persever
ance—-there arc ’ but a few indeed who
fail of reaching the goal el which they
aim.
The world is full of glorious illustra
tions of litis truth. Wo see young men
rise from obscurity end poverty to tvpu
tution and wealth, and we wonder how
' they get along so well. It seems a mys
j tery, but the whole mystery lies in qual
j ilieations above named. lh ;l 3 com—
j menco t ight, and they continue right and
lUiw 1 ■ 'ut-l't-
If ,ve mark the history ot such a man,
jwe shall invariably find that he has
! been a hard worker ami caretul mana
ger. He has looked alter the spiggol as
] well as the Lmugholo of his lm moss. —
He has husbanded his earnings, and add
led them to his Capital, instead of leaving
1 hem all at the box cilice of the theatres
I or wi anier them upon Ids back, or pour
j ing them down tiis throat.
I °\Vo said he was a hard worker. That
i we appended, is the great difficulty with
jhe loafer, lb; would bn perfectly wil-
I lin ,r no doubt, to hold the -hat tl plot i*
deuce Would shower gold into it; or ii it
! would rain roast beef, he would have a
| platter ready to catch it. But to work,
and work hard—“there’s the ruh. ’ Let
fortune ■ time to him in any other shape
than that.
But, young man, work it must be—
work, work, work. It was designed
from beginning that man should earn
I ids broad, not by loafing, but by the
I sweat of his brow. Those drops the in-
Illustrious man coins into the golden
j mint drops that tills his coll rs.
‘Tin-; Wickedest Man in New \oitit.’--
John Allen, of whom so much lots been ,
I said and wiittetQof late, lias created a
j new sensation by closing his dance
I house and transforming it into a Magda
len asylum. Allen closed his place at
I midnight on Saturday, and announced
I that it would never be opened again ex
cept lor religious purp me. A esterday
| morning the following announcement
’ was pasted oil the door of No. 304 Wa
ter street.
‘This dance-house is closed ! No gen
tlemen admitted unless accompanied by
their wives, who wish to employ Magda-
Icns as domestics.
‘John Ac.i.en.’
In the afternoon Allen attended the
Sunday school and meeting at the How
ard Mission, when the fact that the dance
house had been closed was publicly an
nonnecd. Allen made a speeca, in the
cmt.so of which he said that lie hai
abandoned the (lance-house business for
ever, and intended to devote the remain
dor of his life to doing good.
In the evening a prayer meeting was
held at Allens house in Watei street.—
The bar-room was filled with abandoned
1 men and women who live in tiic neigh
borhood, and although many were into •-
! ieated, good older prevailed. Mr. Oliver
Dyer, Rbv. Mr- Van Meter, of the How
ard Mission, Mr. Arnold and Allen made
remak). Hymns were also sung. Tim
speakers made their addreses fioni he-
I hind the bar, the audience being seated
at tables wliicli had been placed in the
I centre (.1 the dancing room.
The street in front of Allens place was
crowed with pickpockets, loafers, bur
iglars, bullies and dog fighters, l'romi
nent among the latter class were ‘Kit
Burns and ‘Dele’ Coleman. The refor
mation of Alleu was of course the chief
lonic of conversation. Hi* course was
I commended by all, and none expressed
■ doubts of his sincerity. A prayer meet
iny- will be held ut;noon to-day and dai-
ly It 'leafier.
'This :s probably the first instance in
which a man who kept n house of ill- j
fame until 12 o'clock midnight, begun to j
exhort sinners to repentance the next;
morning. But \v<; live i t rapid times— j
Paul, the aposlile, lived three years in
ictircinent allet lit; ceased to persecute ;
the Christians. But Paul lived in a slow j
age. —New York .Post,
A BABY’S SOLI LOQP Y.
1 am here. And if this is what they j
call the world, 1 don’t think much ol it. i
it’s a flamiolly world and smells of pare- j
gorie awfully. It’s a dreadful light j
world, too, and makes me blink, 1 tell!
you, And 1 don’t know'what to do with
my hands; I think I'll dig my list in tity j
eyes. No, 1 won’t. I'll scrabble at the j
corner of my blanket ami chew it up, i
and then I’ll holler. And the more pare
goric they give me, the loader I’lU'yell.— j
That old nurse puts the spoons in thej
corner of my mouth in a very uneasy j
way, and keeps tasting my nttlk herself
all the while. She spilled snuff in it last
night and when 1 hollered she trotted ,me.
That comes <>( being u two day's old ba
by. Never t tind, when I'm a man, I’ll
pay her back pood. There's a pin stick
ing in now, and if 1 say a word about it
I’ll be trotted, or fed, ami 1 would rather
have catnip tea. I’ll tell yen who 1 am.
1 found out to-day. 1 heard the folks
say, ‘ flush, don’t wake up Einclino’s ba
by,” and 1 suppose that pretty, white
laced woman over on the pillow is Eme
lilte.
No, 1 was mistaken, for a chap was in '
here just now, and wanted to see Bob’s j
baby, and looked at me, and said I was 1
“a hinny little toad and looked just like
Bob ” He smelt ol cigar, and I'm not j
used'to them. I wonder who else 1 he-1
long In. Yes there’s another one
Iliads "Granina.” Emelino told me, and
she took me up, and held me against Iter
soft check, and said “It's Granina's baby |
it was.” I declare, 1 do not know who
1 i belong to, but I’ll holler and may be
I'll find out.
There comes snuffy with catnip tea. —
The idea of giving babies Catnip ten
when they are crying for information !
I'm going to sleep, 1 wonder if 1 don’t
look pretty red in the luce? 1 wonder
why my hands won’t go where 1 want j
them to ?
HOME POLITENESS.
Should an acquaintance tread on your |
dress, your best, your very best, and by
accident tear, Imw prnluse yon are with
“your never minds- -don’t, think ol it—l
| dont care at all.” If a husband does it,
j he gets a frown ! if lie is a child lie gets
j chasl ised.
Alt 1 these are little things, sav yon !
| They tell mightily on the heart, let us
j assure yen, little as they are.
A gentleman stopped at a friend’s
j house, and finds it in cm.lns on. “He
{ don’t see anything - to apolgizo for—tiev
'or thicks of such matters—every tiling
; is till right”—fold supper—cold room —
i crying children-—perfectly coml’or'table.
Goes home, his wife li>s been taking
I care ol the sick ones, and worked her
I tile almost out. “Don't see why things
! can’t he kept in better order—there were
: never such cross children before.” No
| apoligies except away from home.
Why riot he polite at home 1 Why
j not use freely the golden coin of collide
i sy *f 'llow sweet they sound, those little
! winds, “1 thank you,” or “A .tl are very
| kind.” Double, yes thrice, sweet front
! ,e lips wo love, when heart smiles make
J lli- eye spathic with the clear light of a.
j lection.
Be polite to your children. Do you
expect them to be mindful of your wel
fare ? To grow glad at your approach ?
To bound away to do your pleasure be
fore your request is half spoken ? Then
with all your digni'y and uuthoiity min
j gle politeness. Give it a niche in your
] household temple. Only then will you
I have the true secret of sending out into
! the world really finished gentlemen and
| ladies. *
Again we say unto all—be polite.
A Maiden's Love. —Unman nature hit
!no essence more pure—the vo Id knows
j nothing more chaste—heaven lias endow
id the mortal heart with none, holier,
than the nascent, affection ol a young
I vifrin's soul. Tim warmest language
of the sunny south is too cold to shadow
I forth even a faint outline of that enthti-
I siastic sentiment. And God has math
I the richest language poor in the satin
respect, because the depth of hearts that.
J thrill with love’s emotions are too sacred
for the common contemplation. The mu
I sical voice of love stirs the source of the
(sweetest thoughts within the human
breast and steals into the profound re
cesses of the soul, touching cords which
I never v bra ted before and culling into
! gentle companionship delicious hope til
: i lien unknown j Yes the light of a young
maiden’s first love brea s dimly but
. beautifully upon her, as the luster of a
.[. ll' glimmers through a thickly wovet
bower ; and the first blush that mantles
: her chock, as she feels the primal in flu
i unco is faint and pure as that which a
i roselcaf might cast upon marble. Bn
how rapidly does that light grow stroi
ger and that flash deeper until the ppw
J erf til effulgence of the one irradiates ever}
i corner of her heart, and the crimson
; glow of the other suffuses every featun
i of Iter countenance I
00 per Annum
NO. 82
All <>!(! gentleman whose Style win
<;t rmaniz«m 1 wus asked wImV lie thought
of signs aml mums.
"Veil, I don’t dinks mooch of deni'
dine - , mid 1 don’t pcliove avoidings: Imt
1 dolls you s<>niedirnes dere is somedings
in Root'll dings ash [d- RC dings. Now
do odor night I sit mid road mine news
paper, mid mint! Iran she shpeuk und
say:
‘ Fritz, do dog ish howling.”
‘Veil, 1 don l dinks mooch of dom
dings, mid I goos on und reads mine pa
per, mid miim ('ran she say:
‘Fritz, dor ish somedings pad ish hair
pen d—do dog ish howling.’
‘Und don I gets oop mil mineselt m il
looks out. iron do wines an do porch, mid
tie moon was shiiiin, mid, mine lectio tl- g
tie siioomp rigilt up mid clown like aver
ydings, mid ho park at do moon, dat
vas shine so do vindor, do old roman slier
say-:
•Mind, Fritz, I dolls you dare ish
some pad ish happen. De dog ish houi—
ing.’
‘Veil, I goos to pot nnd 1 shloeps, mid
all night long von 1 rakes up dare van
dat dog howling vi rser ash never. Und
in do morning 1 kits oop and kits mino
breakfast, mid mino frau she look at mo
mid say worry soliimn:
‘FI it/,, dere ish somedings pad ish hap
pen. l)e dog vas howl all night.’
‘Und shoost den tie newspaper come
in, und 1 opens him—mid by sliings, vot
yon dinil.s '! dan: vas a man dint in Phil
adrlphia-
Advaktaok or Ykahs.—-You arc getlfng
into yoais. Yes, but tlic years are get
-1 ing into you—the ripe, rich years, the
genial mellow years the lusty, luscious
years. One by one the crudities of your
youth arc falling off from you, (he vani
ty, the egotism, the instillation, the be—
wildoinient, the uncertainty. Nearer
and nearer yon are approaching yourself
You are const.lidaiing your lorccs. You
: are becoming' master of your situation',
| On the ruins of shattered plans yon find
I your vantage ground. Your broken
| hopes, yi nr thwarted purposes, your de-
I lea led aspirations, became a stiff ot
strength by which you mount to subli
me!-heights. With soli possession and
self command of all things, the title deoil
of e> cation foi foiled, is reclaimed. Tho
king - has come to Ins own again, i'.arth
I and sea, and sky pour out tlicit; large
| ness of love. All the crowds pass down
to lay its treasure at your loot .
Whom nr. ltr.ui.NDi:i) Unit or.—Artemus
Ward once hud an .adventure in Boston,
which resulted as follows: I returned in
the boss curt part way. A pooty girl
111 spectacles sat near me, and was tell in
a young man how much he reminded her
ol a young man she used to know in
Waltham. Booty soon tlie young man
got out, and smiling in a seductive man
ner, 1 said to the girl in spectacles; Bout
I remind you of someone you use to
know ? 'Yes,'she said 'you do remind
me of one man, but ho was sent to tho
penitentiary for stealin a barrel of
mackera!; ho died there, so 1 coucUmkl
you ain't him.’ 1 didn’t pursue the con
versation.
A conductor on a Connecticut railroad
passed tree a poor penniless chap recent
ly. An officer of the road in the sumo
ear called him to account, “I pass him/
said the man of tickets, "because lie’s a
conductor on the railroad.” ‘‘lie a
conductor ! Why, what makes him
dress so shabbily ?’ "Oh, lies trying to.
live on his salary,” was the quick reply'.
! Professor Henry, in the meeting of tho
i \eadcmy of Science at Hartford sp- k
| ing of the electric spark said he "could
judge better of the duration of the -parte
when seen perpendicularly than li'.oiz-m
--tally.'’ Wtieu it appeared in print it
read : "lie could better judge of the
duration of the squash when seen per
pendicularly than horizontally.” That is
equal in Mr. Burlingame's eloquent allu
sion to the “granite shaft” on Banker
Hill —but which was printed the “grog
shop” on Uunker Hill.
A young laity advertised for ft dress
ing maid. Oue applied and ill response
u> inquiry it she was quick, she leplied:
Oil !so quick, that 1 Will engage to
dress you every day m half an hour.”
‘ln half an hour!” reiterated the young
lady; ‘and what shall 1 do the rest ol the
Ilr.m to the Gbkbk Thr-ink. —An heir
to the Greek throne, child ol Queen O'gn
was born at Athens August 2d last and
hi lim same day received the name ot
Constantine Henry Demosthenes, amidst
great rejoicing's. The joy of the people
it ilie birth of the piiuee is represented
to be unbounded, sueli an event not hav
ng be I ore occurred within tour centuries
fire Queen Olga is the daughter Ot the
irand Dutchess Alexandra ot Russia who
•villi her two sons G rand Dukes Alexis
md Nicholas, were present at tiie chris
.Cilillg.
There is an oiiecdote told somewhere
of a dispute in which a boisterous, Mi
ned fellow called lira adversary “no gen
ilemaii.” “I suppose you think your*eU
me,” was the rep'y- "Certainly 1 do,”
mswered the bully. ‘ Then,” said the
tlher, “I'm not offended that you don’t;
think me one.”
It vs a poor matrimonial firm that is
three-quarters wife and one-quart or bus.
bund
