About The Waynesboro news. (Waynesboro, Ga.) 186?-18?? | View Entire Issue (Oct. 17, 1858)
Daughters, Sisters, Wife, Mother. Women, in the nobler acceptation of the word, is indeed a bright and beautiful crea ture. Whether as i daughter, sister, wife or mother, she inites admiration. As a daughter, she refinei the atmosphere of the household, checking the impetuosity of bro thers, and forming in invisible, but chasten ing link between huband and wife. Look at a home in which there are no daughters! Where is the music, the ringing laughter, the sweet confidence, and the softening in fluences of a virgin toilette, and the modest seclusion, which even the roughest school boys during holiday time rigidly respects? Depend upon it, daughters are a powerful el ement in civilization. They tame the rough asperities of fathers, impocc a restraint on the volubility of angry wives, and in a mat- ter-of-coursc, instinctively-understood kind of way, enforce the maintenance of a pure discipline and regularity, and a decorum which keeps some of the angel-light always shining by the domestic fireside. As a sis ter, how supreme is her lightest word, how potent her authority over the most unruly, unlicked cub of a biother ! And then look at a brother in after life, who has enjoyed the blessing of having had a sister ! How polished his demean>r—how gentle his cour- sies to the opposite sex ! Habitual respect for his sister has drilled him into a legiti mate appreciation of all women. He nei- ther disparages, nor does he suffer disparage ment of women in his presence. As a lover he is manly; for having had a sister to guard and cherish, his courtship is tinged with a chivalrous respect for the honor of the lady to whose hand he aspires. Indeed, we might almost indefinitely multiply instan ces of the power a sister exercises over the future life of a brother; but will content ourselves with the observation, that we have always found greater contentment, more gentle temper, a larger amount of urbanity, polish, and talent in families graced by daughter, than in those which had none. But the influence of daughter and sister life—teeming though they be with all sweet ness and gentleness—must yield in value to that of a wife. Man is wreck without a wife—a mere peripatetic, feeding on thistles, and treading on thorns. His daily existence is a walking shadow of humanity. He scarcely is conscious of the dignity of his na ture—his soul is fallow; and the few scat- tered daisies on its surface only make him the more conscious of his self desolation.— When held down in the polypus embrace of his many passions, his time consumes all that is good and noble in his disposition. Man owes an infinite deal to marriage, and lan guage is too feeble for the eulogy of a wife. She is the corner-stone of society, the guar dian angel of every earthly bliss, every earthly virtue and happiness. She it is who makes the strong man docile, the savage one tame, and the great one human. Where she is, there is a paradise; where she is not, there is a howling desert. Her smile, like the glow of early summer’s morn, gilds eve rything around her vith a radiance that quickens all the ennobling impulses, and lifts human nature nearer and nearer to the immortal source of its being. Nothing be- neatli the stars is more lovely than marriage, and, as the purity and dignity of marriage rests chiefly witli the wife, to her be all the honor and the glory. As the oldest living English poet has finely expressed it, “ She is a light shining within, when all without is dark.” And if we travel from the wife to the mother, how glorious, yet how touching is the transition from the devotion of the one, to the self-denying worshiping fervor of the other. The mother is the next step in the ladder, by which we climb from earth to heaven. Her unselfishness, watchfulness, and hope in her offspring, are as beautiful as solemn. A WONDERFUL INSECT.—Professor Ad ams, of Amsterdam College, was a great ct- omologist. Some wicked students thought to quiz the old gentleman, and. after much care and labor, succeeded in manufacturing a nondescript insect, >y taking the body of a beetle and glueing it o the legs of a grass- hopper, the wings of a butterfly, and the horns of a dragon fly With this new style a bug, they proceeded to the study of the Professor, and told him that one of their number had found a strange animal, which they were unable to classify, and requested him to aid them in difining its position.— The professor put on lis spectacles, and af ter examining the nsect carefully, said, “Well, young gentlenen, this is a curious bug; I am inclined t< think it is what natu ralists call a humbug.’ Quilp told a story of a man on a Mississ ippi steamer, who was questioned by a Yan kee. The gentleman, to humor the fellow, answered all his questions straight forwardly until the down-easter was fairly puzzled for an interrogatory. Allast he enquired: «Look here, squire where was you born!" “I was born,” said the victim, "in Bos ton, Tremont street, No. 44, on the first day of August, 1825, at 5 o’clock in the after noon.” Yankee was answered completely. For an instant he was struck. Soon, however, his face brightened, and he quickly said— “Yaas; wal, I calc’late yeou don’t recol lect whether it was a frame house or a brick house, dew yeou?” Why, Tom, my deir boy, how old you look? Dare say, Bob—for the fact is, I rever was so old in al my life. Reconciliation. “Well, I think its Tthety; but don't tease me any more. Your brother has marrried a poor girl—one whom I forbid him to marry, and I won’t forgive him if they all starve to gether.” This speech was addressed to a lovely girl, scarcely eighteen ; beautiful as the lilly that hides itself beneath the dark waters.— She was parting the silvery locks on her fa ther’s high, handsome forehead, of which her own was a miniature, and pleading the cause of her delinquent brother, who had married in opposition to his father’s will, and had consequently been disinherited. Mr. Carrie was a rich old gentlemen, a resident of Philadelphia. He was a fat, good-natured old fellow, somewhat given to mirth and wine, and sat in his arm-chair from morning till night, smoking his pipe and reading the newspapers. Sometimes a story of his own exploits in our revolutionary battles filled up a passing hour. He had only two children—the diso bedient son, and the beautiful girl before spoken of. The fond girl went on pleading. c( Dear father, do forgive him; you don’t know what a beautiful girl he lias married, and—” “I think it’s likely,” said the old man; “but don’t tease me; and open the door a little, this plaguy room smokes so.” « Well,” continued Josephine, “ won’t you just see her now, she is so good—and the lit tle boy—he looks so innocent.” “What did you say ?" interrupted the fa ther, « a boy ! have I a grandchild ? Why, I never knew that before! but I think it’s likely. Well, now give me my chocolate, and then go to your music lesson." Josephine left him. The old man’s heart began to relent. " Well,” he went on, “ Harvey was always a good boy, a little wild or so at college, but I indulged him: but lie was always good to his old father, for all. Yet he disobeyed me by marrying this poor girl: yet, as my old friend and fellow-soldier, Phil Bement used to say, ‘ we must forgive.’ “Poor Phil! I would give all the old shoes I have got to know what ever become of him. If I could but find him or any of his children ! Heaven grant they are not suffering! This plaguy, smoky room. How my eyes water. “If I did but know who this girl was that my Harvey has married; but I have never inquired her name. I’ll find out, and, and—I think it’s likely,” said the old man, musingly. Josephine led into thee room a beautiful boy, about three years old. His curly hair and rosy cheeks could not but make one love him. “Who is that ?" asked the old man, wi ping his eyes. " That is Harvey’s boy,” replied Jose- phine, throwing one of her arms around her father’s neck, while with the other she placed the child on his knee. The child looked tenderly up into his face, and lisped out— “ Grandpa, what makes you cry so ?” The old man clasped the child to his bo som, and kissek him again and again. Af- |his emotion had a little subsided, he bade the child tell him his name. " Philip Bement Carrie,” said the boy, « I am named after grandpa.” “What do I hear ?" cried the old man: “ Philip Bement your grandfather ” “Yes,” replied little Philip, “and he lives at home with us.” “Get me my cane,” said the old man; “ come, Josephine—be quick, child !” They started off at a quick pace, which soon brought them to the poor, though neat lodgings of his son. There he beheld his old friend, Philip Bement, seated in one corner, weaving baskets, while his swathed limbs showed how unable be was to perform the necessary task. His lovely daughter, Kate, the wife of Harvey Carrie, was preparing their frugal meal, and Harvey himself, was out seeking employment for the support of his needy family. “ It’s all my fault,” sobbed the old man, as he embraced his friend, old Phil Bement, who was almost petrified with amazement. “ Come,” said Mr. Carrie, “ come all of you home with me : we will all live together, there is plenty of room in my house for all.” By this time Harvey had come. He asked his father's forgiveness, which was freely given, and Josephine was almost mad witli joy. “ Oh, how happy we shall be!” she ex claimed, “and father will love our little Philip so. and he’ll be your pet, won’t he fa ther ?” “Alt !” replied the old man, clasping the child to his bosom for the hundredth time, “ I think it’s very likely.” DAT OLD NIGGAR Dickson.-—Mr. Dickson, a colored barber in a large New England town, was shaving one of his customers, a respectable citizen, one morning, when a con versation occurred between them respecting Mr. Dickson’s former connection witli a col ored church in that place: I believe you are connected with the church in Elm street, are you not Mr. Dick son, said the customer. No sah, not at all. What, are you not a member of the Afri can church? Not this year, sah. But why did you leave their communion, Mr. Dickson, if I may be permitted to ask? Well, in tell you sah, said Mr. Dickson, as he strapped a concave razor on the palm of his hand ; It was jes like dis. I jined the church in good faith; I give ten dollars towards the church de fust year, and de peo ple called me Brudder Dickson; de second year my business not so good, and I give on ly five dollars. Dat year de people call me Mr. Dickson. Dis razor hurt you sah. No, the razor does tolerably well. Well, sah; de third year I berry poor; liad sickness in my family, and did’t gib nuf- fin for preachin. Well, sah, after dat, dey called me dat old niggar Dickson, and I left ’em. This Hand NEVER STRUCK ME.—We re cently heard the following touching incident: A little boy had died. His body was laid out in a darkened, retired room, waiting to be laid away in the cold, lone grave. His afflicted mother and bereaved little sister went in to look at the sweet face of the pre cious sleeper, for his face was beautiful even in death. As they stood gazing on the face of one so beloved and cherished, the little girl asked to shake his hand. The mother at first did not think it best, but the child repeated the request, and seemed very anx ious about it; she took the cold, bloodless hand of her sleeping boy, and placed it in the hand of his weeping sister. The dear child looked at it a moment, ca ressed it fondly, and then looked up to her mother through the tears of affliction and love, and said, “ Mother, this hand never struck me.” What could have been more touching and lovely ? Young readers, have you always been so gentle to your brothers and sisters, that, were you to die, such a tribute as this could be paid to your memory! Could your broth er or your sister take your hand, were it cold in death, and say, “ this hand never struck me ?” What an alleviation to our grief when we are called upon to part witli friends, to re member only words and actions of mutual kindness and love! How bitter must be the sorrow, and how scalding the tears of re morse of an unkind child as he looks upon the cold form, or stands at the grave of a brother or sister, a father or mother, towards whom he had manifested unkindness. Let us all remember whatsoever we sow, in this respect, that shall we reap. A Mistake all Around A person who wore a suit of homespun clothes, stepped into a house in this city, on some business, where several ladies and gen tlemen were assembled in an inner room. One of the company remarked (in a low tone, tho’ sufficiently loud to be overheard by the stran ger) that a countryman was waiting; and agreed to make some fun. The following talk ensued : 1 You’re from the country, I suppose ?’ ‘Yes I’m from the country.’- 1 Well, sir, what do you think of the city ?’ ‘It’s got a darned sight of houses in it.’ ‘I expect there are a great many ladies where you came from ?’ 1 Wall, yes, a powerful sight, jest for all the world like them there,' (pointing to the ladies.) ‘ And you are quite a beau among them, no doubt ?' ‘Wall, ’scort ’em to meetin’ and about.’ ‘Maybe the gentleman will take a glass of wine,’ ‘Wall, don’t care if I do.’ 1 Did you ever drink a toast?’ ‘I eats toast what aunt debby makes, but as to drinkin’ it, I never seed the like.’ ‘ O, you must drink thier health.’ ‘ Wi' all my heart.’ ‘ Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to wish you health and happiness, witli every other blessing this earth can afford; and advise you to bear it in mind that we are often decieved by appearances. You mistook me, by my dress, for a country booby; I from the same cause thought these men to be gentlemen ; the deception is mutual —I wish you a good evening. One Reason FOR NOT SUBSCRIBING.—The Anapolis Gazette tells the following story of a citizen of that place: “ A person better known for his wealth than for his liberality, was requested to aid in the erection of a church. The subscription book was placed in his hands. He looked at it anxiously and earnestly, and handed it back witli tlie astonishing remark: ‘No, sir ! I will not give anything; not half as many people go to hell now as ought to go. Standing on Etiquette. Those who are termed ‘Simple minded peo ple,’ adopt a curiously innocent mode of ex pression occasionally, which comes so near art, at times, as to render its simplicity doubt ful. We heard of a young married couple— from the country, of course—who recently attended an exhibition of ‘Dissolving Views.’ The bride being pretty, attracted the atten tion of a stylish looking city gent, who hap pened to occupy the same seat with the twain. During the exibition the audience part of the hall being already obscured ,by some accident the light was entirely extinguished Pending its recovery, which occupied some little time, the city gentleman (perhaps accidentally) gently pressed tlie hand of the bride, who was too much alarmed to offer resistance.- This bold act was followed by a bolder, cer tainly not accidental, for the city Lothario absolutely kissed the bride! This was too muchand the young wife resolved to tell her ' Little Sallie Angell. BY MARIA. Sallie Angell was a very interesting-look ing little girl, of twelve summers. Her pa rents were poor, and Sallie had but few of tlie comforts of this world. Her mother was a pious Christian, but her father was a miserable drunkard, and would not suffer his daughter to go to Sabbath-school; but, as he was often from home, her mother sent her without his knowledge. She was very at tentive to tlie instructions of our kind teach er, and always knew her lessons well, altho she sometimes had to steal her Bible and Question-book out, and go to the woods to study her lesson. She became convicted of sin, and during a protracted meeting held in tlie village, God was pleased to speak peace to her soul. Never shall I forget how slic prayed for her wicked father, and witli what a heavenly smile she met her saintly mother. She shouted the praises of God, and embraced us all, telling us how happy she was. But alas ! this happiness did not last long; for as soon as her father heard of her turn ing Methodist, he beat her and drove her from his house. But she could not be fright ened in this way ; she went to a neighbor’s until her father became sober, and then re turned home. But God would not suffer her to be thus abused long: He took her to himself. She was taken ill one night, and calling her mo ther, told her she was going to die, and wished her to send for her brother and sis ter, who lived in a town about twelve miles distant. They came the next day. Sallie called them around her bed, told them what Jesus had done for her, embraced them, and exhorted them to meet her in the bright world to which she was going. She sent kind messages to her teacher and classmates, and calmly fell asleep in Jesus. Her brother and sister followed her exam-| ple, and soon felt pardoning love. But her wicked father continued to drink, and was| finally drowned in the Ohio river, while ska ting on Sunday. Now, I hope none who read this will ever drink intoxicating liquors, or break the Sab bath by skating, or in any other way. But I hope you may all do as little Sallie did, and then, when you come to die, you will have no fears of death, but sweetly resign your breath to God who gave it. He is only a Printer. The following tribute to the noble preser vative art we find in a cotemporary, and we commend its strong contrast to tlie intelli gent reader : He is only a printer. Such was tlie sneer ing remarks of a leader in a circle of aris tocracy—the codfish quality. Who was the, Earl of Stanhope, IIc was only a printer. What is Prince Frederick William, just married to the Princess of England. He, too, is only a printer. Who was Wm. Clax ton, one of the fathers of literature, He was only a printer. What was Washington Irving, G. P. Morris, N. I’. Willis, James Gales, Charles Richardson, James Harper, Horace Greely, Bayard Taylor, Charles Dickens, Thiers, Douglas Jerrold, Geo. D. Prentice, and Senators Dix, Cameron, An-I thony and Niles; They, too, were printers.| What was Benjamin Franklin; He, also, was a printer. And last, though not least, what is James Buchanan, who occupies the most enviable position on earth; Only a printer! Every one cannot be a printer- brains are necessary. Recipe for HAPPINESS.—It is simpl husband, which she did, when the following whispering colloquy took place: ‘ John.’ ‘ What ?’ ‘ This feller here’s kissing me.” “ Well, said Jolin, who was a little shy of the citizen, ‘ tell him to quit.’ ,No, Jolin, You tell.‘ ‘Tell him yourself. 1 ‘No, John, I don't like to‘, you tell him. The gentleman,s a perfect stranger to me!" A String of Mishaps A man named Wragg was brought into one of the City Courts in New York for dis turbing the peace. No witness appeared against him, and he was requested to tell us his own story : Judge Mr. Wragg, will you state the facts connected with your arrest? Mr Wragg Certainly Sir. Last night about 10 o’clock I was going along the street quietly and unostentatiously, with my mind occupied in profound meditation; suddenly my thoughts and vision were simultaneously ar rested, not by a member of the police, but by an old hat which was lying on the sidewalk. Now I have a deep aversion to an old hat. In fact I might say that the whole world has a rooted antipathy to old hats. It may be because old hats are emblematical of a man going down the hill of adversity. Men under such circumstances and old hats recieve the same kind of treatment, namely kicks. Now nine out often seeing that old hat lying on the sidewalk as I did, would have given it a kick, and that, sir is just what I did. I kicked that old hat, and not only that, but kicked a frightfully large stone which was inside of it; I felt myself falling forward, and unfortunately I fell against a fat woman with sufficient force to cause her to fall; in falling, she knocked down a ladder; one end of the ladder struck me, the other hit a cart- horse; the horse gave a jump and the car man was thrown off from his cart; lie fell on a bull terrier dog; the dog gave a yell and bit the carman, who rolled over me; a nigger rushed out of an alley and kicked the earman for falling on his dog; the carman picked up a stone and threw it at the nigger, but unfortunately it went through tlie window of a Dutchman’s grocery and fell into a butter tub; the Dutchman came out; by this time I had got up and was about to castigate a boy whom I saw laughing, from which cir cumstance I was led to believe that he had put the stone in the old hat; I ran after the boy. When he saw my belicose attitude he yelled out for his father. The Dutchman ran after me, and just as I caught the boy the Dutchman caught me. Sir my physical pow er was not sufficient to cope with both. I am not a Sampson. I was vanquished; not only that, Sir, but when released from their grasp I was taken by three or four other Dutch men. Farmers’ Daughters. Girls, don’t look towards tlie city with longing eyes; if you would preserve the rose freshness in your cheeks, stay in the country air and sun ! Dont persuade your fathers to sell their farms and go into town to deal in dry goods, if you do they will probaly lose farms, goods and all. Don’t ape city customs by wearing cloth I gaiters when you walk : they are not adapted to rough country roads; or by inviting an evening party of your neighborhood friends to meet at nine o’clock ; for that is their usual bed time. W hen you would not adopt a custom, ask if it is suited to country life, not if it is fash ionable in tlie city. Don’t paint your faces; exercise and the fresh air will do that. Dout stand in awe of a young lady just from the city. We should rather look for a wife where there is less starch and carmine among farmers’ daughters who have the glow of health in the cheek, and sparkle of intelli gence in the eye, Don’t look upon city beaux as a superior of being; you know nothing about them. Rest satisfied to be farmers’ daughters; you know not what you would sacrifice, were you to change places with the envied girls. Go to work and make yourselves and homes as attractive and lovely as you can. Read and study and use all the means with in your reach to cultivate your minds. Select from your associates of both sexes those who are equally aspiring witli yourselves meet in social gatherings to improve your conversational talents, and perfect, easy, un embarrassed manners. Many a glorious speculation lias failed for the same good reason that the old Texas Ranger gave, when he was asked why he didn’t buy land when it was dog cheap. “Well, I did come nigh onto taking eight thousand acres onest,” said old Joe mourn fully. ’’You see, two of the boys came in one day from an Indian hunt, without any shoes, and offered me their titles to the two leages just below here for a pair of boots.” “For a pair of boots!” cried one. "Yes, for a pair of boots for each league.” “ But why on earth didn’t you take it? They’d be worth a hundred thousand dollars to-day. Why didn’t you give them the boots?” "Just‘cause I didn’t have the boots to give.” said Joe, as he took another chew of tobacco, quite as contented as if he owned two leagues of land. An Irishman complained to his physician that he stuffed him so much witli drugs, that he was sick a long time after he got well. Why is France like a skeleton ? Because only a bony part is left. - a ed trifle to be saved in every household. It is not in economy alone that the wife,s atten tion is so nesessary but in those niceties which mark a wellregulatd house. An un furnished cruet stand, a missing key, a button- loss shirt a clammy spoon, a soiled tablecloth, a mustard pot, its old contents sticking hard and brown about it, are several nothings; but each, can raise an angry word or cause discom fort. A Thought for PARENTS.—A New York daily inquiries and replies', "Who arc our aristocrats? Twenty years ago this one made candles, that one sold cheese and butter another butcherd a fourtli thrived on a distil- lery another was contractor on canals, others were merchants and mechanics. They are acquainted with both ends of society, as their children will be after them—though it will not do to say out loud, For often you shall find that the toiling worms hatch butterflies—and they live about a year. Death brings a division of property, and it brings new financiers, theold gentis discharg- ed, tlie young gent takes his revenues; and begins to travel—towards poverty, which he reaches before death, or his children do, if he does not. So that, in fact though there is a sort of moneyed race, it is not hereditary it is accessible to all—three good seasons of cotton will send a generation of men up—a score of years will bring them all down and send their children to labor, the father grubs and grows rich, tlie children struts and spend the money; they inherit the price and go to shiftless poverty, next, their children rein vigorated by fresh plebeian blood come up again.’ Too late for Church.—An old negro in Connecticut, who had always been very con stant in attending church, and prided him self furthermore in being the first there, hap- pened to be detained far beyond the usual hour one morning. “John,” said Cuffee, as he stood carding his wool for the occasion, “ hab the kindness to tell me what o'clock him be.” “Can’t tell you, Cuffee, de clock hah stopped. I should think it am pretty con siderable late.” “ Ise wouldn't be exposed if ’twar half an hour top o’ dat,” returned Cuffee, and hur ried to churcli as fast as his bandy legs would carry him. He entered toward the end of the sermon, just as the parson was reitera ting the text for tlie last time. “ The last shall be first, and tlie first shall be last.” Cuffee turned upon his heel and went out exclaiming— “ Dat means me—I come last, but Ise out fusser anyhow ; de next time dis nigger goes late to meeting, he no go at all. Yesterday morning, about four o'clock in the afternoon, a man with a licel in the hole of his stocking' committed arsenic by swallow ing a dose of suicide. The verdict of the inquest returned a jury that tlie decreased came to the facts in accordance witli his death. He leaves a child and six small wives to lament the end of his untimely loss. In death we are in the midst of life A man greatly in debt, on his deah bed. said to his friends: ‘I only wish to live till I have paid my debts.’ His friends com mended the motive to his prayer, and tlie sick man in a low tone proceeded: ‘And if heaven would grant me this favor I know my life would be very long indeed. 1 A western orator in 9 speech to his consti- when you rise in the morning, to form a re: olution to make tlie day a happy one to fellow creature. It is easily done—a lei off garment, to tlie man who needs it ; a kin word to the sorrowful man, encouraging t the striving—trifles in themselves light a air—will do it, at least for twenty-four hours and if you are old, rest assured that it wil send you gently and happily down th stream of time to eternity. Look at tlie re suit! You send one person, only one, hap pily through the day; this is, three hundred and sixty-five in the course of the year- supposing you live forty years only, after you have made fourteen thousand six hundreo beings happy, at all events for a time. Now, worthy reader, is not this simple? and is it| not worth accomplishing! We do not often| indulge in a moral dose—but this is so small| a pill, needing no red currant jelley to dis-| guise its flavor, and requiring to be taken but once in a day, that we feel warranted in| prescribing it. It is most excellent for di-i gestion, and a producer of pleasant slumbers.| London Atlas.■ Important TRUTHES FOR WIVES.—In do mestic happiness the wife’s influence is much‘ greater than her husbands’- for one’ tho first cause—mutual love and confidence—being gratitude, the whole comfort of tlie household depends upon trifles more immediately under I her jurisdiction. By her management of small sums, her husband,s respectability and credit are created or destroyed. No fortune can stand the constant leakages of extrava gance and mismanagement, and more is spent- in dimes than women would easily beleive. The one great expense, whatever it may be, is turned over and carefully reflected on are incured; tlie income is prepared to meet it; but it is pennies imperceptibly sliding away which do the mischeif., and this alone the wife can stop, for it does not come within a man’s province. There is often an unsuspect 00 DC Kinits U1 saicopco ulations; and f observed by buisness men, would take the edge off of panics; Brethren, my rule is thisand I advise you to adopt it:— Never owe any more than you are able to pay, and allow no nan to owe you more than you arc able to loose.’ A NEWSPAPER.—It was Bishop Horne’s opinion that there was no better moralist than a newspaper. Of it lie said: “The follies, vices, and consequent miseries of multitudes, displayed in a newspaper, are so many beacons continually burning to turn others from the rock on which they have been shipwrecked. What more powerful dissua sive from suspicion, jealousy and.anger than the story of one friend murdered by another in a duel? What caution more likely to be effective against gambling and profligacy than the relation of an execution, or the fate of a despairing suiscide? What finer lecture on |the necessity of economy than the auctions of estates, houses and furniture. Only take a |newspaper, and consider it well, pay for it and lit will instruct thee, ;Why cannot a deaf man be legally con-. 1 demned for murder ? Because the law says, no man can be condemned without a hear- ing.
