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VOL. II. OHKaMBSapBBIBSMIBa SANDER® VILLE, GEORGIA, OCTOBER 10, 1873. NO. 15. .M. G. MEDLOCH. J33THBO ARLINE. E. L. EODGEBS. J»y MedSwek, Arline & Rodijers. Thb Herald is published in Sandersville, Ga.. every Friday' morning. Subscription price rWO DOLLARS per annum. Advertisements inserted at the usual rates. >, T .i ciiarge for publishing marriages or deaths. POETRY. Prize Song of the Patrons of Husbandry. BY MBS. M. F. TUCKER. [T'\e -rize of $>", oSered by the National Grange-,* Patrons of Husbandry, for a song a do pie 1 to tne use of that. Order, has been a wur'h.-d to Mrs. Tualrer, for the following, w ;..it is announced, will be set to music s-van. I'lie c-aretary, : n making the nn- nonncement, says Mrs. T. had able compet itors. and the decision was made in her fa vor b\ Mr. Alien. -■ alitor of flarper’s maga zine. ‘ V:.] ’I’is ours to guard a sacred trust, We shape a heaven born plan ; The noble purpose wise and just, To aid our fellow man, From Main to California’s slope, Resounds the reaper’s song: “We come to build the nation’s hope, To slay the giant Wrong,” Too long have Avarice and Greed With coffers running o’er Brought sorrow, and distress, and need, To Labor's humble door, From Main to California's slope, Resounds the reaper’s song : “We come to build the nation’s hope, To slay the giant Wrong.” A royal road to place and power, Have rank and title been : We herald the auspicious hour; When honest Worth may win. From Maine to California’s slope, Resounds the reaper’s song; “We come, to build the nation’s hope. To slay the giant Wrong.” Let every heart and hand unite In the benignant plan, The noble purpose, just and right, To aid our fellow man. From Maine to California’s slope, Resouud’s the reaper’s song# “We come, to build the nation’s hope, To slay the giant Wrong.” Omro, Winnebago Co., Tils. SELECT MISCELLANY. THE TWO WIDOWS. A PLEASING STORY, WITH A GOOD MORAL. Once on a time, two poor old wid ows lived in the same hamlet and under the same roof. But, though the cottages joined and one roof covered them, they had each a sep arate dwelling; and although they were alike in age and circumstances, vet. in other respects they were very different. For one dame was cove tous, though she had little to save, and the other was liberal, though she had little to give. Now, on the rising ground opposite to the .widows’ cottages stood a monastery, where a few pious and charitable brethren spent their time in prayer, labor and good works. And with the alms of the monks, and the kindness of neighbors, and because their wants were few, the chi women dwelt in tolerable com fort, and had daily bread, and lay warm at night. Now one evening, when the covet ous old widow was having supper, there came a knock at her door. Be fore she Opened it she hastily put away the remains of her meal. “For,’' said she, “it is a stormy night, and ten to one some belated vagabond wants shelter; and when there are victuals on the table every fool must be asked to sup.” When, however, she opened the door, a monk, with his cowl pulled over his head to shelter him from the storm, stepped into the cottage. Much disconcerted at having kept one of the brotherhood waiting, the widow loudly apologized, and dusted a chair for her reverend guest; but the monk stopped her string of re grets, adding, “I fear I cut short your evening meal, my daughter.” “Now iu the name of ill-luck, how came he to guess that?” thought the widow, as with anxious civility she began to press the monk to take some supper after his walk; for the good woman always felt hospitably inclined toward any one who was likely to return her kindness seven fold. The brother, however, refused to sup ; and as he seated himself the widow looked sharply through her spectacles to see if she could gather from any charitable distention of the folds of his frock, whether a loaf, a bottle of cordial, or a new winter’s cloak were most likely to crown the visit. No undue protuberance be ing visible about the monk’s person, she turned her eyes to his face, and found that the visitor was one of the brotherhood whom she had not seen before. And not only was his face unfamiliar—it was utterly unlike the kindly but rough countenances of her charitable patrons. Not that she had never seen boasted the no ble beauty, the chiseled and refined features of the monk before her. And she could not but notice that, although only the rushlight illumi nated her room, and though the monk’s cowl went far to shade him even from that, yet a bright light al ways seemed to be on his face, mak ing his clear skin almost transparent. Her curiosity must have been great ly stirred, had not her prevailing passion of greed made her more anx ious to learn what he brought than who he was. “It’s a terrible night,” quoth the monk at length. “Such tempest without only gives point to the in door comforts of the wealthy; but it chills the very marrow of the poor and destitute.” “Ah, indeed!” sniffed the widow with a shiver. “If it were not for the charity of good Christians, what would poor folks do for comfort on such an evening as this?” ‘ It was that very- thought, my daughter,” said the monk, with a sudden earnestness on his shining face, “that brought me forth even now through the storm to your cot- t age. “Heaven reward you!” cried the widow xeivently. “Heaven does reward the charita ble!’ replied the mouk. “To no truth do the Scriptures bear such constant and unbroken witness, even as it is written: “He that hath pity on the poor lendeth unto the Lord; and look; what he layeth out it shall be paid to him again.” “What a blessed thing it must be to be able to do good!” said the widow, piously, wishing in her heart that the holy man would not delay to earn his recompeuce. “My daughter,” said the monk, “that blessing is not withheld from you. It is "to ask your help for those in greater need than yourself that I am come to-night.” And forthwith the good brother began to tell how two strangers had sought shelter at the monastery. Their house had been struck by lightning and burned with all it contained; and they, them selves, aged,. poor and friendless, were exposed to the fury storm. “Our house is a poor one,” continued the mouk. “The stranger’s lodging-room is already full, and we are quite with out the means of makiug these poor souls comfortable. You at least have a sound roof over your head, and if y T ou cau spare one or two things for the night, they shall be returned to-morrow, when some of our guests depart.” The -widow could hardly conceal her vexation and disappointment. “Now, dear heart, holy father!” cried she, “is there not a rich body iu the place, that you come for charity to a ! poor widow like me, that am in a case j rather to borrow myself than to lend ; to others?” “Can you lend us a spare blanket?” | said the mouk. ‘These poor strangers : have been out in the storm, remem- ; ber.” The widow started. “What med dling busybody told him that that the baroness gave me a new blanket at Michelmas ?” thought she; but at last, very unwillingly, she went to her inner room to fetch a blanket from her bed. “They shan’t have the new one, that’s fiat,” muttered the widow; and she* drew out the old one, and began to fold it up. But though she had dwelt upou its thickness and in sufficiency to the baroness, she was so powerfully affected at parting with it, that all its good qualities came strongly to her mind. “It’s a very suitable size,” said she to herself, “and easy to my poor old arms to shake or fold. With careful usage it would last for years yet; but who knows how two wan dering bodies that have been tramp ing miles through the storm will kick about in their sleep ? And who knows if they’re decent people at all ? Like ly enough they’re two hedge birds, that have imposed a pitiful tale on the good fathers, and never slept on anything finer than a shock of straw in their lives.” The more the good woman thought of this, the more she felt sure it was the case, and the less willing she be came to lend her blanket to “a couple of cheating tramps.” A sudden idea decided her. “Ten to one they bring a fever with them !” she cried; “and dear knows I saw enough good bed ding burnt after the black fever, ten years ago! It would be a sin and a shame to burn a good blanket like this!” And repeating, “a sin and a a-shame” with great force, the wid ow restored the blanket to its place. “The coverlet’s not worth much,” she thought; “but my good man bought it the year after we were married, and if anything happened to it I should never forgive myself. The old shawl is good enough for tramps.” Saying which she took a ragged old shalw from a peg, and began to fold it up. And even as she brushed aud folded, she be gan to grudge the faded, rag. “It saves my better ope on a bad day,” she sighed, “but I suppose the fath er must have something.” And accordingly she' took it to the monk. “It s not so good as it has been, but there’s warmth in it yet, and it cost a pretty penny when new.” “And is this all that you can spare to the poor houseless strangers?” asked the monk. “Ah, indeed good father,” said she “and that will cause me many a twinge of rheumatics. Folks at my age can’t Jie cold at night for noth ing.” “These poor strangers,” said the monk, “are as aged as yourself, and have lost everything.” But as all he had said had no effect in moving the widow’s compassion, lie departed, and knocked at the door of her neighbor. Here he told the sauie-tale, which met with a very different hearing. This widow was one of those liberal souls whose poss essions always make them feel un easy unless they are being accepted, or used, or borrowed by some one else; and she blessed herself that, i thanks to the baroness, she had a I blanket fit to lend to a king himself, I aud only desired to know what eise j she had with which she could serve ! the poor strangers, aud requite the j charities of the brotherhood. ' j The monk confessed that all the j slender stock of his household goods in the. monastery was in use, aud one after another he accepted the loan of almost everything the widow had. As she gave them he put them out through the door, saying that he had a messenger outside; and hav ing promised that everything should be duly restored on the morrow, he departed, leaving the widow, little else than the chair iu which she was to pass the night. When the monk had gone, the storm raged with greater fury than before, and at last one terrible flash of lightning struck the widow’s house, and, though it did not hurt the old women, it set fire to the roof, and both cottages were soon ablaze. Now, as the terrified old creatures hobbled out into the storm, they met the monk, who, crying “Come to the mon astery!” seized an arm of each, and hurried them up the hill. To such good purpose did he help them that they seemed to fly, aud arrived at the convent gate they hardly knew how. Under a shed by the wall were the goods and chattels of the liberal widow. “Take back thine own, daughter,” said the monk; “thy charity has brought its own reward.” “Butthe Strangers, good father?” said the perplexed widow. “You are the strangers,” answered the monk; “and what thy pity thought meet to be spared for the unfor tunate, Heaven in thy misfortune hath spared to thee.” Then turning to the other widow, he drew the old shawl from beneath his Rock, and gave it to her, saying. “I give you joy, dame, that this hath escaped the flames. It is not so good as it has been ; but there is warmth in it yet, and it cost a pretty penny when new.” Full of confusion, the illiberal widow- took back her shawl, murmur ing, Lackad&y! If I had but know-n it was ourselves the go.od father meant.” The monk gave a shrewd smile. “Ay, ay, it would have been diff erent, I doubt not,” said he; “but ac cept the lesson, my daughter, and when next, thou art called upon to to help tbe unfortunate, think that it is thine who needs that would be served; and it may be thou shalt judge better of what thou caust spare.” As he spoke, a flash of lightning lit up the ground where the monk stood, making a vast oreole about him in the darkness of the night. In the bright light his countenance ap peared stern and awful in its beauty, and when the flash had passed the monk had vanished also. Furthermore, when the widows sought shelter in the monastery, they found that the brotherhood know- nothing of their strange visitor. A Fable. While I w-as walking in the garden, one bright morning, a breeze came through aud set all the flow-ers and leaves a fluttering. Now-, that is the way the flowers talk, so I pricked up my ears and listened. "Presently an elder tree said: “Flowers, shake off your caterpil lars.” ‘ Why?” said a dozen, altogether, for they were like some children who alw-ays say “why,” when they are told to do anything. The elder said: “If you don’t they’ll gobble you up.” So the flowers set themselves to shaking, till the caterpillars were shaken off. In one of the middle beds there was a beautiful rose, who shook off all but oue, and she said to herself, “O, that’s a beauty; I’ll keep that one.” The elder overheard her and call ed out, “One caterpillar is enough to spoil you.” “But,” said the rose, “look at his brown aud crimson fur, and his beau tiful black eyes, and scores of little feet. I want to keep him. Surely, one won’t hurt me.” A few- mornings after, I passed the roso again. There was not a w hole, leaf on her ; beauty was gone;, she was all but killed, and had only- life enough to weep over her folly-, while the tears stood like dew-drops on her tattered leaves. “Alas! I didn’t think' one caterpillar w : onld ruin me.” They Say So.—As a rule, whoso ever habitually- uses the phrase “they ;>ay so” deserves to be distrusted. It s quite certain to be the preface to •something injurious, which has eith er a slender basis or none at all. No one uses it w ho has a good or com mendable thing to relate of another, and it is generally a prelude to some scandalous or untrue story. It is a lypocritical phrase, for it pretends .o disbelieve the tale which it w-ould lave another believe. And it is cow- irdly—more cow-ardly than a lie, hough that is as cowardly as any- •jhing can well be ; for a lie is a stab, and it makes no pretence to be oth erwise ; but “they say so” is a stab which feigns tisat it is not a stab. A downright lie tells that which is contrary to the truth, but “they say so” does this and more ; it falsely 7 alleges the testimony of a public ru mor which it invents in support of a alsehood to whicli it gives currency, ft insinuates a slanderous or evil re- )ort, and supplements it with evi dence which itself had fabricated to make its falsehood bear the color of truth. It is safe to act upon the principle that whenever it is used to the discredit of another, “they so is half a liar.”—Christian Intelligencer. Down the Hill.—The evening of every man’s life is coming apace. The day- of life will soon be spent. The sun, though it may be up iu aid-heaven, will pass swiftly down he western sky, and disappear. What shall light up man’s path w-hen the sun of life is gone dow-n ? He must travel on to the next world; but w-hat shall illuminate his foot steps after the nightfall of death, amid the darkness of his journey ? What question more important, practicable, more solemn, for each reader of our journal to himself? That is a long journey to travel without a friend. Yet every man must perform it. The time is not far distant when all men will begin the journey. There is an evening star in the natural world. Its ra diance is bright and beautiful, and cheering’to the benighted traveler. But life’s evening star is a good hope of heaven. Its beauty and brilliancy are reflected from the Son of Righteousness, whose bright rays light up the evening of life, and throw their radiance quite across the darkness of the grave into Im manuel’s land. It has illumined the footsteps of inauy a traveler into eternity. It is of priceless value. A thousand worlds cannot purchase it; yet it is offered without money and without price, to him that will penitently receive it.—Ex. How the Grangers Came.—The Augusta Chronicle gives this over awing account of how the Grangers ! sprang into existence, “like Minerva j from the brow of Jupiter, full grown ; aud completely ai med “It came like a clap of thunder from a clear sky. Apparently before the cloud gathered, the storm burst forth in all its fury. While the movement and its probable effect upon the politics of the country were being discussed, the party was thor oughly organized in a dozen States of the Union, and in one—among the wealthiest and most influential —was marching to an assured victo ry. The Granges sprang into life like Minerva from the brow of Jupi ter, full grown, completely armed. They- were born an army, and the first manifestation of their existence was a great victory.” Keep a List.—1. Keep a list of your friends; and let God be the first in the list, however long it may be. 2 Keep a list of the gifts yon get; and let Christ, who is the unspeak able gift, be first. 3. Keep a list of your mercies, and let pardon and life stand at the head. 4. Keep a list of your joys; and let the joy unspeakable and full of glory be first. 5. Keep a list of your hopes; and let the hope of glory be foremost. 6. Keep a list of your sorrows; aud let sorrow for sin be first. 7. Keep a list of your enemies; and however many- there may be, put down the “old man” and the “old serpent” first. 8. Keep a list of your sins; and let the sin of unbelief be set down as the first and worst of all.—Promp ter. There is dew in one flower and not in another, because one opens its cup to take it in, while the other closes itself and the drop runs t>ff. So God rains goodness and mercy as wide as the dews ; and if we lack them, it is because we will uot open our hearts to receive them. “Mamma, why don’t you wear a hush ?” asked little Johnnie of his mother the other day. “A hush !” said the lady, “what do you mean ?” "“Why I asked Aunty, what that was that made her back stick out so, aud sho said, “Oh hush Johnnie.” Woman’s best Ornament. BY REV. E. P. ROGERS. Let me urge upon my female read- , ers, especially those who are in youth, | the importance of taking loftier and ! better views of life than those taught! by the vain world. It is a sad thing ! to see so many of the young and i fair, whose life is most a blank—I. will not say a blot—whose keen sus- ! ceptibilities, whose noble powers, whose deep affections, whose pie- ! cious time is lavished only upon j dress and gayety, and fashionable j visiting; who wear the bright ap- i parel of the butterfly, and are as j light and graceful, and as useless too; ! whose conversation finds no higher } or more improving subject than the : idle gossip of the day, the last party-, or the never-failing topic—dress; whose readidg is the miserable trash j which is inundating every conimuni- : ty, and enervating and dissipating the minds of our youth; whose i whole life seems to be an aimless, ! frivolous life; and who, as they flit by us on their airy wings, provoke the inquiry: “For what were these pretty creatures made ?”—I pray 7 -you, take loftier views of life than these. While I would not draw you 1 from the rational pleasures of socie- ; ty, nor bring one gloomy cloud up- your youthful sky, I still would plead for some serious hours, some indus- . trious moments; some time ap-1 portioned to the culture of the mind, ! the enriching of the memory with ! stores of useful knowledge. I would j plead that the capacities and : aspirations of the immortal part re- ; ceive some ministration, and that; the moral faculties" be cultivated aud ' stimulated, and the generous im- ! pulses of the soul be expanded iu labors, for the best good of those • around you. Be assured there is no j beauty like that of goodness—there is no power like that of virtue; per-1 sonal beauty- may attract the admi ration of the pagsing hour, but it is the richer beauty of moral worth, | the loveliness of the soul, that com- ! mands the deepest reverence, and and secures the most enduring affec tion. Even men who have no re- ; ligion themselves, but who are men of judgment, and whose opinion is i worth the most, respect and admire ! a lady- most, who displays in her character the-“beauty-of holiness.” If there is one sight more than any other, in this world of sin and j sorrow, which combines all the ele ments of beauty, of nobleness, and of worth, it is that of a young aud love ly female, whose youth and beauty, whose depth and richness of affection aud whose powerful influence on hu- i man hearts, are ail consecrated to \ the cause of truth and holiness, and as an humble offering at the Savior’s j feet! Such a being is, indeed, wor- ; thy of the reverence and admiration j of "every true and noble heart; and she will command it, even wiiea the light of her beauty is quenched, and . the flower of her loveliness is faded. \ But if there is a sad, heart-breaking ; sight on earth, it is that of one gifted with all the charms which nature J lavished upon her daughters, pros- ! tituting them upon the altar of van- j ity or fashion, and starving the soul on the unmeaning flattery of a vain : and hollow-hearted world ; running a giddy round of gayety, frivolity, | and dissipation; laying up in the ! future a cheerless and forsaken old age, and a miserable, remorseful 1 eternity. “Oh, -wliat is woman? What her smiles, : Her lips of love, her eyes of light? What is she, if those lips revile The lowly Jesus ? Love may write His name upon her marble brow, And linger in her curls of jet: The light spring flowers may meekly bow Before her tread; and yet—and yet Without *hat meeker grace, she'll be A lighter thing than vanity !” Mirth at Mealtime.—Everybody j should plan to have pleasant con- j versation at the table, just as they j have for good food. A little story- j telling, a little reading—it may be of j humorous things, anecdotes, etc., I w-ill often stimulate the joyous ele- ment of the mind and cause it to . act vigorously. Try and avoid go ing to the table all tiled out. Let all ; troublesome topics be avoided. Don’t discipline children. Think and say- something pleasant. Cultivate mirth, ! and laugh when anything witty is said. If possible, never eat alone. Invite a friend of whom you are fond, aud try and have a good time. Friendship and friendly intercourse at table whets the appetite and pro motes the flow of animal spirits.— Herald of Health. Two Titusville, Pa., lawyers enter ed into a solemn compact not to drink intoxicating liquors for a year except when out duck shooting, un der forfeit of $100. One of them quenches his thirst without losing the ducats by keeping a duck in his back-yard to fire at when he is dry, and the other has invested in one also. A Roman Catholic priest has been sent to prison for a fortnight in Prussia for publicly preaching that marriages among Protestants is mere Neglect of Duty. Editors Ioiua Granger.—I fear that some of us neglect our duty as re gards the assembling of ourselves to gether regularly; or in other words, we are not as punctual in attendance at our regular meetings as we should be. This is decidedly wrong, and cannot be viewed in any other light. Let me ask what was our object in join ing the Patrons of Husbandry ? Was it not that we might improve our condition, morally, socially, and in tellectually? And perhaps I might with truth add financially? Most assuredly- it was. But this cannot be done if we absent ourselves, and neglect to do “the things which so nearly concern our temporal salva- tfon.” Then let us press on in the good begun work, and never “weary in well doing” until we reach the goal, for which the order was first organized. As respects non-attend ance, I “know how ’tis myself.” We are very busy sowing wheat; or we have commenced plowing com; or we have some fence" to build or repair; or this or that, and the other thing, that requires our attention, and we don’t see how we can leave them all and go to the Grange. But we sure ly cau attend, at least, once month, if we only think so; besides we are pretty sure to hear something to our advantage, which we would have missed, if we had staid at home. It is all right and proper to work, for we have to “earn our bread by- the sweat of our brow-;” but should we not economise a little, even in this respect, if by so doing we can im prove and elevate onr condition ? The most of us have a w-ay of our own about farming; but if we attend each meeting, and hear the subject “talked up” in all its bearings, per haps we will hear of a plan that will suit us, and we will adopt it in pref erence to onrjown. Therefore, broth er Patrons, let us endeavor to be worthy Patrons in deed, as well as in name. The remark is true that “we have no way of judging of the future but by the past,” and judging from the past, we think we had just cause for an organization of this kind Composed for the Iowa Granger. Plant Trees. Farmers, the time is here now for planting trees; and precious time too, as time waits for no man ; and he who does not plant now will have to wait one year longer. Remember that one year in the growth of trees makes a large difference in the out come. When we approach a land owner and ask him why he does not plant trees, wo are often told the old story of “Oh, I intended to do it last spring, but I was so very busy that I had really no time;” or it may be he will tell yon that times were so hard that he could not spare means to buy trees. But, brother farmers, do you not know that “Procrastina tion is tbe thief of time ?” But now let me say to you, if you have your affairs so arranged that it will be impossible for you to plant trees this spring, make up your mind that yon mil not let another season pass without tree-plantidg largely, and having made up your mind to that effect commence action at once. Lay off your plat of ground for next sea son’s tree-planting; cultivate it well this season in some field crop that will leave the land in condition for fall plowing. Plow the land deep this fall; throw up the under soil that has lain hidden from the sun’s genial rays for “Lo! these many years,” and let the sun, air and frost take action on the land thus pre pared, and next spring it will be in fit condition to receive and grow well all or any kind of trees that may be planted. But do not stop here. On the preparation of the land, look about for the trees where with to plant. Most kinds of trees can be obtained with little or no cost; you need not go or send to the Rochester Nursery, or the Bloom ington Nursery, or to the old Colo ny Nursery in Massachusetts, to ob tain your supply ; but look after the soft-maple seed that will now be ma tured in about one month from this time ; gather up those seeds, plant them in good soil, and next spring you can have a supply: The white- ash, the box-aider, the elms and m, , , - r ii many other varieties oi voung trees Then let us do our duty cheerfully i ,, . n - , , i : mat are wortny of cultivation, can. m every respect, that we may come * - - - - J ... off conquerors iu the end. ; be obtained easily, in large quanti- | ties, on all of our river or creek bot- Sun-Pbesting on Fruit.—Boys and i toms. So by looking the thing up girls, if you wish to astonish any ! * u time, there need be no cash out- members" of the family or any coming ! But if you want to grow eyer- guesis by some time allowing them greens, send to some responsible to discover their initials neatly print- i nurseryman who maxes evergreen edonapear,peachorapple,asithangs ! raising a specialty, and order of •‘ branch, this is the way to him—avoid tree-peddlers. If you - - - want to plant fruit trees, buy of your home nurserymen. Believe none of the large stories told you by smooth tongued agents, who go around the country telling you that their trees are better than those grown here in our own county. "Washington coun- on its branch, this is the way to carry out your plan: Just before the fruit ripens, cut the desired letters from a sheet of thin, tough paper, and paste them on the side of the fruit most exposed to the sun. When, in the course of time, you re move the paper from tbe ripe surface, you will find the letters distinctly j *7 has a ^PP 1 ! of ali kiude of fruit marked upon it. There are other ways of printing fruit, but this is the most simple.—Hearth and Home. A Keokuk (Iowa) lady-, while bus ily engaged in the pursuit of her do mestic duties, encountered a mouse in the flour barrel. She summoned the hired man and told him to get the shot gun, call the bull-dog and ! one of the most beautiful among the station himself at a convenient dis- ! States of this nation. So, c-ultiva- tance. Then she climbed half-way tors of the soil, persevere in this trees that any farmer may want to cultivate. Then buy of y r our home nurseries those trees that you have to buy.. Gather young trees and seeds for yourselves in the forest, and by persevering in the good work of tree raising and tree planting, in this beautiful and fertile State of ours, it will be at no distant day, up stab's and commenced to push the barrel vigorously with a pole. Presently the mouse made his ap pearance and started across the floor. The bull-dog went in pursuit. The hired man fired and the dog dropped dead. The lady fainted and drop- good work, and Nations yet unborn, will rise up and call you blessed. J. Miceet. The Age of Christ when Cruci fied.—A forthcoming volume of Chevalier Ernst Bunsen on the ped down the stairs, aud the hired “Chronology of the Bible,” which is man. thinking she was killed, lit out issued simultaneously not only on man, thinking she was killed, lit out and has.not been heard from since. The mouse escaped. both sides of the Atlantic, but in four of tbe leading languages of Eu rope—English, French, German and . ,, . .... Italian—will present some features A rather amusing incident^occur- o{ extraordinary interest. One of red on the Cheshire rauroad the oth- the most startlil j g and on ihe whote er day One of the passengers con- tbe most novel 0 ° { its eecentrieitiea siderably annoyed the conductor by j wfll be tbe ca i cu i at j OII wHieH assigns repeatedly asking him to tell him | to cbrist the of f orly _ niEe Te »r* w The conduc- - - when he got W— at the time of his crucifixion—an or toid him if he would keep quiet: event which according, to this tW he would te 1 him when begot there. | took place in the rear thirty-fix* The conductor having so much to J Q ‘ f the cc f mmon era . attend to, or from some other cause ! , , m , forgot it until they were two miles j There is said to be a lawyer the past the station, when, suddenly re- ; wilds of Arkansas who three yeant membering it, he rung the bell and i ago could neither read nesr writer the train was run back to the station. j and who has never read fisat three He then informed the gentleman that j law-books since. We art? acquaint- he was at TV . “All right, said ed with but one man who knows that he, “I was not very well this morn- j lawyers address, and if he is bribed ipg a P d m y 'rife told me to take a G r tempted to reveal it to the Prne* pill when I got as far as here.” Two Negatives.—A boy in one of tbe schools asked his teacher if ident before a Chief Justice of &a United States Supreme Cou;t shall have been appointed, may ghostly , . . ,, , . gallinippers pursue him in'his slum- he could go out m the yard, and was ^through life, andphautom night- answered m the negative. Aftes^ forever W . ab ‘ ve ^ pi f loir the lapse of a few minutes he asked | o{ Ms mother-in-law.-Coziner Jaur, again and was again answered in the | na j_ negative. Waiting a few minutes ' t m , t the lad got up aud started fear- the ■. Nothing is more indicative of Am doo r- j earnestness of life than the sight of * “TV here are you going, asked the ! well developed male creature spend- teacher. .... , I ing eight hours a day in trying |p “I am going ou 'the yard.” ■ wear out a dry goods box with fit ‘"But did I not answer you in the ; seat of pants. negative, when you asked me?” : — “Yes; yon made use of two nega-; “Who dat hit me ? Whar’s dat tives in succession, and von have al- j tern ?” were the exclamations of £ ways taught me that two negatives , astonished Virginia darkie after bejj> make an affirmative.” J thrown something like a hupdred fit He was allowed to go out. t br 9 locowotrwp