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A Family Coipanion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. X. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JUNE 1, 1874. No. 24. THE HERALD IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY MO-NING, At Newberry C. 1U., BY THOS. F. GRENEKER, Editor and Proprietor. Terms, $2.50 per .nrum, Invariably in Advance. (7- The per is stopped at the expiration of time for wih it is paid. 27 The X mark denotes expiration of sub :cription. LITTLE-BREECHES. 'A Pike County View of Special Providence.] I don't go much on religion. I n.ever ain't had no show; Bat I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, On the handful o' things I know. I don't pan out on the prophets And free will. and that sort of thing But I b'lieve in God and the angels, Ever sence one night last spring. I come into town with some turnips, And my litttle Gabe come along No four-yezr-old in the county Could beat him for pretty and strong. Peart and chipper and sassy. Allgs ready to swear and fight And I'd lara't him to chaw terbacker, Just to keep hi6 milk-teeth white. The snew come down like a blanket As I passed by Taggart's storei I went in for a jug of molasses And left the team at the door. They scared at something and started- K I heard one little squall, And bell-to-split over the prairie Went team, Little Breeches and all. Hell-to-split over the prairie! I was almost froze with skeer: But we roastel up some torche;, And sarched for 'em far and near. At last we struck hosses and iwa:on, Snowed under a soft wbite mounad. ,Upoead- beat-bat of little Gabe c No hide nor hair was found. And here all hope soured on me, 4f.my fellow-critters' aid Ijest flopped down on my marrow-bones, Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. By &S;tie^torches was played out, And me and Isrul Parr f Went off for some wood to a sheep-fold That he sai i was somewhar thar. crfouW-d..iat last, and a little shed P Wherehely sAut up the lambf at night, WO,Joked in,and seen them hud lled thar, So warm and sleepy and white. And THAa.sot Little Breeches an i chirped As peart as everyou see "I want a chawv of teroacker, And that's what's the m:atter of ine." Bo d it thar? Angels. ndEcedoki never have waliked in that storm. They jeat teooped down m :ttid toted hien To whar it was s.ife and warm. And L think that saving a li-tie child, O Arx bringing.him to his own, Is a derned sight bet ter b'tsiness fhan loafing around Thme Throne.t B BOLT AND SWEET ALIOE.1 BY AMANDA MINNIE DoUGL.\ss. C '~i;don''t you rememiber sweet Alice, Ben .Bolt, Sweet Altice, whose hair was so brown Wo hblshe with delight when you gave her a smile, KX(drembld with fear at your frown? ( In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben B olt, . In a corner secluded and lone, 'they have fitted a slab of granite, so gray, And sweet Alice lies under the stone. ENGLISH. Don't you remember ? Are those hremagic words-akey wherewith 'sve ma.sy unlock the flood-gates of the heart, and send the sweet wat ters of the past over the plains and ..iown the hills of the fair land known ini our heart's experience as Y>y-gon?? Even so. There rises be fore s vii,ions of a tim~e when the bright, deep eyes of the young spring gazed -sh-11y at us frous be neaththe ermined mantle '-f winter -whar the blue viole-ts stole first tints from the blue sky above ; when the cowslips of May. And the goldezi-hearted butter-cups ft r s t jeweled the slender blades of grass; and the hawthorn grew white with its blossoms ; when we roamed the woods the whole of that long, warm, -Junte,holiday, weaving garlands and listening to the concert of birds in that dark, mistletoe-wreathed oaken forest. There wats one in years agone that prayed-"Lord keep my 1 memory gr-een," and the clinging tendrils of our hear-ts ar,s yearning to this prayer. B ut green and fresh as the poet's prayer, had the heart of Ben Bolt been kepte-from his eary boyhood to the hour he sat by his o la friend. and listened to the song of by-gone days. Not "through a glass. dark 11." did he review those seen, E of1 the past, but it was the going l ac of the boy-heart to other hearts Of childhood. There w~as a little red school j house with its dusty windows, and f dsk&~that.ldbeen knicked many a time, trying pen-knives; its tall t stern looking teacher, whose heavy voice caused the younger ones toj tremble; its rows of boys and girls with their beads bent attentively downward to their books and slates. The-viter wind sang and whistled1 without, andi though some few chil-. dish hearts tried to find words for Is its mournful notes they were too -onng and happy to know that it t carried desolation and heart-ace in1 its wail; yet did they learn it inf after days. s Then there came a few light, round! snow-balls, so tiny that it must have been the sport of the storm spirits in the eldrich revels, -cagnSyad yt4ete - -changing by and by to feather1 -y '~~pq flint danessl abont ~v~r a' -ides down hill, and the snow balJ ng that would make the plx !round ring again. The last lessonl vere said, books put aside. and ii lace of the silence reigned gav ,lad voices. Kate Ashley threN >aek her jetty ringlets. and laugh .d through her spark-ing eyes. a: ;he gavc Jamio Marvin that bit o curl he had teased for so long, >ecause she knew that Jamie hat ;he prettiest sled in the whol chool. Ah, a bit of a coquette wai ;hat same gleeful, romping Kate ad there was Sophie Dale, :ookinc 6s demure as a kitten walking fron pan of new milk, and playful as i :itten too, was she, in spite of he] juiet looks; and the stately Eliza )eth-Queen Bess they call her nd I question if England's Quee1 1ad haughtier carriage: but apar rom those who were eagerly lool or by friends to take them home tood Alice May-sweet Alice. Tery beautiful and lovable was she vith her winsome. childish face >lue eyes. and soft, brown curls. 1he was delicate and fragile, yoi aight almost fancy her a little snov hild, or a lost fairy babe. Nearly all the children had de arted, amid the joyful shouts and ingling bells, but yet the sweet lit [e child alone, until a rich bovisl. oice, startled her by saying: "No one goes your way, Alice. dc iey?" _No, I gness not, Ben.' she re lied, in her fine snow-bird likt 'Well, the snow is t!o deep for on to walk, so I guess I will carrY ou home "Oh, no, Tn to.) heavy to be car ied so far," and she langhed s >w and sweetly. "Hcavy: no, you're just like this e-own. or a snow flak'. Ally ; 1 old carry Von to> En0ald 1and(l ack again, withoat being at all fa igued:" and he tossed the littl irl in his arms. "Io, no, the boys will laugh ai ou, Ben," and she struggled. 'What do I care ? they ma3 mgh at Ben Bolt as much as the3 ke," and the brave boy drew him elf up proudly. and pushed th< hesnut curls from his broad, fail :rehead; "but I do not mean t< righten you, Alice," he continued s he saw how the little girl trem >led. So she put on her bonnet ani loak. and he took her in his arms a; f she had been a bird, while th< ttle tiny thing nestled down or is shoulder, as he went stumblin; hrough the snow, saymng gay pleas .nt things, that made the shy littli irl laugh, and when, at length, hi pened her mother's cottage door ie stood'ou the floor, saying, "There ~Irs. May, I brought Alice home est she should get buried in a snos ank; she's such a weeny littl ;hing;" and before Mrs. May, coul thank him, he was out of sight. But the winter began to wane mad now then a soft, mild da2 yould come that lessened the pyre nid andi snow house materially. 'Such a pity," they said, and wish '4 winter would last always; bu here was oije little wren-like voic ha p d~> for' violets and blu >irds. The pyramid tum2bled down, th now house grew thinnJ~ and thu Ler, and the boys jested abCnt it ~eing in a decline, till one day isappeared-faded away like s aany of their childish hopes. The glad spring came with it arks and daisies, and one deligh u day the children went a Maying tata Ashley was Queen, and rilint Queen she was too, hu sen Bolt gathered white violet: and braided them in the soft curl f Alice, and told her she was swee yr and dearer than a thousand Me ueens like Kate. Child as si .as, his words made the sunshin: >righter, and lent enchantment t the atmosphere of her existence. The long JIune day came, enell jg the green earth with a cor roses. and making it redolei .t < ume ; and in the war: one h.~ r the children strolle lie hill, andi cluste Sthe foot of L , .ve .W c g~ together-to' tre.o ish hopes of the ired by ambition; soi f quiet country repose. ay' city life :but there W 'hose eye kindled and young la ushed with enthusiasm, as 11 oke of the sparkling blue wat ers ad the brave ships that breasted iem so gallantly. Ben Bolt was going to sea. Cap sig Shirley, as generous. whole ul being as ever trod the deck as to take him under his protec on the next five years. Thern ere exclamations of surprise and >rrow from the children; haunts ere visited and revisited: they Lt down in. the shade of the olh Ramore, an.d listened to the musi d murmur of the brook, and the exchanged keepsakes. and promi d to remember the merry, brave s hearted boy, whose home wonid be I the wide. blue ocean. Alice May seldom joined them. I She was so delicate and tiaid. and the thought of Ben's departure fill s ed her eves with tears. so she wonld f stval away alone, fearful of the ridi cule of her hardier companions. 1 But one night Ben camne to Mrs. May's cottage. to bid them good bye. Alice stood by the windows watching the stars, wondering what made them so di.n-niiv(-r tiinking of the tears that dinuned her eyes. Ias Ben told over his hopes so joy fully. She could not pat with him - there, so she walked through the little door-yard, and stood beside the gate. looking like a golden ' crowned angel in the yellow moon light; and when lie told ever again - how large she would be on his re - turn, that he would not dare to call her his little Alice then, as lie look ed back lingeringly. she laid i soft brown curl in his hand, saying: L "I have kept it for you this long, long time. Ben : ever since you brought me home through the snow. do you remember ?* He did remember, and with one passionate burst of grief. he pressed the little girl to his bosom. and the brave hearted boy sobbed the fare >well he could find *o words for. But five years are not always a life-time. True, it was snch to the qiet. thoughtful Charlie Allen. whose large. dark eyes ha. stolen brilliancv from his book, and tle langhing, Belle Archer -Iioth were laid to sleep in the old chnreh yard, when the night stars shone on their raves. Others went out to seek a forn- in the gay world. and - s1me grew into miniiature n-n u1( wom( Inby llir own swvet fire I )s :- bt Ali-. May s*:ne sti a ehild. Yet she was taller. aid he sligh fr more gr e4ily d Veloped : but there was the saml!e angel looking through her eyes as had watched there in the olden days. She stayed at home now. to assist her mother in se,ving, their chief support; but she was the s:iue shy. sweet Alice that Ber Bolt had carried through the snow. Ben Bolt came back. How strange that five years should have Sp:assed so quickly and stranger still that this tall, handsome sailor. lwhose voice was so full and rich, Sshould be Ben Bolt. Kate Ashley Swas not thinking of the sweet Sab ibath rest, as the chime of the church Sbell floated through the village: - there she stood before her mir.ror. 3 arranging her shining curls, and Sfastening her dainty bonnet, with , its white ribbons dropping blue bells, thinking if she could not fas , cinate Ben with her sparkling eyes, 7 wudbe delightful to have his e chief attention during his stay. I He thought she did look very graceful as lie sat before service, , looking on olden faces-but therE Swas a fairer one than her's he fan e- cied, as he saw the sweet face od - Alice May, with the half-closed eyes, tand long, golden-edged lashes. t shadowing the pale cheek. He car. e red in his bosom a curl like the e one nestlinig so softly by her tem ple. and it a talisman, keeping hir e from the enchantment of othe2 - eyes. s When the service was closed, Ber t Bolt was thronged about by olk fam1liar1 faces-they had so muel to say, .5o many things to speak of s so much joy to express at his saff return, that it well nigh bewilderei - him. It was very pleasant to be s( a warmly welcomed by old friends .t delightful to ehat of by.gones: ant .it w~as indeed a Sabbath of joy t< s Ben Bole:. t-Sweet Alice ! Ah,. howv long an( Iweary the time had been to) her. e Sometimes her heart died within lie: eas she thou ghit of the broad ocean >but when she looked so shyly at Bec that morn. anid saw how hau dsonm -lhe had grown,.a heart sickness cai -over her, and the sarshine fell ona it dimly on the grass at her feet. Shi n knew she had hidden away to ti~ a depths of her pure heart. a wild -earthly love aind she strove to pu 1- it from her, for wedld he think o eher now ? So it was no e d sTh d shil slip her slender hand in he >mother's and mteal gnietly froml th e joyou throng. SIt was Sabbath eve-one of thoc, n4eY ynoonlight evenings of th ~d saiiier ; Mrs. May ha< aet p si/4 neighbor,an one to te w.ndow with th Alice sat by ' h-r slender whit Bible open, anc words fallir, igers pointing to t~ musically from her lips 'And there shall be no there; and they shall need no cani4 neither light of the sun ; for the Lord God giveth them light, and Ithey shall reign for ever and eve' S he looked tremnblingly upward it - the moonlight, for close beside hea knelt the manly form of Ben Bolt Ther was told a sweet story o love and hope. not the less sweet for being the lana of evey hunian heart. and the tiny hands of sweet Alice were folded in his as she said very low and sweetly: "If I live. Ben. wlin five vears mere have passed and Von return a second tie-' Sha did not finish if-it was never tinished. So they plighted their troth that cail holy Sabbath eveninig. and the buoyant. heart of Ben, in its gushing sunniness, pictured radiant hopes for the fture. He was young and so fill of vitality-every pulse of his heart was beating gladly. and the coiming five years were more precious to him than all the past. "If we both live, Ben, God will have us in his holy keeping." she said in auswer to his parting words: but as he pressed her convulsively to his beating heart he replied: -God will he merciful to us wh: love so dearly. Alice darling. She knew it, but she knew also that. God did not alway auswer the prayer falling from th hopeful lis. Sweet Alice! and down the futur looked tremblingly, and saw the iragile form1 and spiritual face. with lilies braided in the soft. hro wn hair.r eyes grew dim with tvars. for she knew not if it was a br1Ld or a burial. fV>r close beside the uahar w.as a grave yard. The w(re nut wanlting who wOiIdertd at 1en Bolt's choice.an1d thoaugIt it stralnge le should t:tke and My-, 1i preferenice to thp fairest aNd ie . So:e ther-e were who held thir heads loftily when they pasL.. hat her heart was away oil tile bhne waters. an( slh heeded it not. How she wvatched the days in their pssin.she notIed low the slmer wanl-h the tiolc of sunlf'iht-she heard the gl voie-s of t I ;t i rs: all(l w:.en ihe i l -avs Wel taing. the llercI chiWz-(eL gatherii in tile woods : tien the nlO10(.4uss snow fell and lav on the hillside is in the olden days until the genial spriig-tide sun melted it awax, and the violets and hair-bells dottld ;he fields-so passed a year. She was growing fairer and inore beautiful-too brilliant for anything earthly. Once she knelt at the altar in the little church, and listened to the words uniting her with tie Savior's redeemed on earth. bhat it was only an outward form. for her heart had long been in the keeping of angels. Again she watched the wvaning of the summuer days, andi wvhen the soft wind swept over the silvery rye fields, she thought of the sea afar. with its broad waves.Al through the winter days she gren more spiritual in her beauty. and the slender white hands were ofter folded on her breast, as she prayed for those who would soon be lefi desolate : for she knew she wvas dying. It did not startle her, she had Ifelt long ago that the fair greer ear th would hold her pulseless hear1 crc it had left the cloister of girl hood. Life was sweet and beautiful yet in her sinlennmess, death had n< agony, save her sorrow for thos< left in loneliness. It was only little way to the land of rest, and her feet had never grown weary vet shen longed to look once mort upon1 the flowers, and have then: hridedh c in her hair, and so sh< lingered on until the voice of sprint was heard on the hill top)s. One morning when viewless handu were gathering back the misty car tain of the night, and the starm grew dim in the glory of earla morn. sweet Alice stood on th< thr eshold of Paradise. and th< gfolde gate:ds were opened to th< fair, imeek girl. There trembliled 01 herilips a prayer and a blessing fo: Be~n Bolt and her nmotheor. giving raidiance to thet fair. dead face. anc they braided spring flowers in lie: wvy, browni hair. Tihe church bell chimjed softly t< the. few~ years earth had clainget -the'~ sanless soul of Alice May. ai: they brought the cohin in the little old chnrehi. Howv beautiful slit -lookedu in her white burial robeC toO f.tir and sw~eet for death : toi -holv. had1 there not bee-n a resurree tionbey. Close bes5ide her sto1od the friends of her girlbmoot aingi' on1 that youngit face. :s the: v;oulid fain call her back to life. an< -it. sweet love. So they laid swee IAlice to' sleep in the old uhnreb~ 1yard. and those who had looket coldly on her. took to their sorrow ing hearts a sweet memory of tl early dead. There was; agony too deep Lo t terancee when the strong, ardeni hearted man, whose guiding sta a-~ been the love of that sweet gi 'back to find the cottage homn came and Alice sleeping b< desolate, stone in the churcl: *neath a gray But God and Time' a h meci an as years passed aw'7 ..e caf t> think of her as garlanded as the gold(-n fruitage of Eden land. This was the memory that his friend sang of. as they sat in the s-ulinner twilight years afterward. and talked of the faces that had glimmered and faed in their early pathway. how, of all the glad hearts of childhood had clustered togeth er only they two were left. Some slept in the tremulous ocean : some inl the jillu depths: others inl the forest shade, and beneath the wav ing prairie grass. Some there were who slept peacefully in the green old church-yard, and amoig these the fairest andl best was "sweet Alice." Ah. he ?ould nev, r have forgotten that. Years afterward. they laid Ben Bolt, to sleep by the side of "sweet Alice." Ai5scdlllineouS. AM ItICA PItEVIOUS TO ITS DISCOVEtY BY CIIRISTO PILER COL MBUS. Hon. George S. Boutwell, of Mass., in a lecture, began by stating that America must have been known to the ancients ; but that, on ac couniit of the difficulties which then existed of interchanging ideas ard preserving thema, a link had evi dently been dropped in the great chain of evidence which has been since taken u1p. without, however, efl*ectnig a satisfactorv conniectionl. From evi(h.nces which have been coi!ated, and e:camined by scientifiC m11-n, we can safely affirm that all parts of the world were populated as sol as they became inhabitable. Aiter giving some theories about thk divisions of the human family b).se on the color of the conI )!-xiou. the formation of the body And the growth of the hair. the spcsaker proceded to prove that fni the specimens of architecture and miinng which have been dis eovered on this continent we can natnrally infer that the ci-:ilization of the old countries was transplant e.1 here at an early date. In the vicinity of Vera Cruz,. in Mexico, there are to be found the ruins of cities and town buried beneath the earth which give evidences of an enlightened civilization and which silently wait for an interpreter to ehronicle their history. In Califor nia. there are extensive mines, at the. bottom of which have beenf found specimens of human b)ones and altars for wvorship, whose for Imation plainly indicate that they were (:rected by Europeans. In the Lake Superior regions, too. mines Ihave been discovered which show unmistakable signs -of European skill, eqnal if not superior to that which now exists. Mr. Boutwell gave three reasons for the belief that the population of America was not indigenous, and that this continent wvas visited by Eastern mariners at an early age of the world's history. The sp)hericity of the earth was known in the time of Herodotus, and taught by his dis ciples: it was handed down from generation to generation so that Columbus mnade it the basis of his theory. The mariner's compass is not a new invention b)ut belongs al so to the ancients. Herodotus, in his history, alludes to an instrument in the possession of the Indians. which always pointed due north. andl it is a matter of history that in the fourth centiury of our era the Chinese mariners used the magnet ic needle. Then, again, the enter prise of the ancient mariners was equal to a p)assage over the Atlantic or Patcific Ocean. In the sixth cen tury, the Phoenicians had so far pro gresed in the knowledge of navi ga"tion that they occupied the Black Sea. the Mediterranean. and even as fa a *s the Baltic Sea: they be comec familiar with the p)ags inlto the Indian Ocean ;had ob)tain ed possession of ports along th~ costs.and were famiiar with the tides and changes of the sea. Their ships were known to bme away for three years at a time, and as theyv had so far perfected navigation as b- be able to sail 158 miles per day, the distance which they~ could travel in a three-years crnise must have been considerable. Their great success Iwas i voyages after silver an i golic .and as the mines of Spain and Eng lnd con1ld riot possibly yield th< larg-e supply which they constantll eNhibited we can easily infer tha another and a more prolific lani had been discovered, whose exist ance they were unwilling to disclosc lest its treasures should be utilizei by their neighbors. It is wel known they made their ordinar: drinking-vessels, and even the anch !ors of their ships from silver, anm this further proves that they ha<t more extensive mines than thos, which existed in Spain and Afri ca. LHe further proved the possibilit; e o thes hardy mariners havinm reached the Amerlin ((-ast. fro i the fact that varions instantes < sea-faring men having. bt-en carri by the currents and deposited c islands inl the Pacitie Ocean. exi ted. We are also Avd to belim that the Old World contributed ti inhabitants of the western hemi phie.e,froill the fatt that there is striking similarity betwcen the A afic and the kncric:n aborigil TheI)omhern portim 1Af AsiA thiek poutdby an iladr!i5 n ep while the n.rth11 is ov'.1mI I)v sa ag( holdeS who live in a nomad life. which womld indleatu- imriigr tion prevailed in that suction: an. as the distance to the northei shores of the American continel is but short, it is clear that the e odis was in that direction. Ti inhabitants of the same degrees laticade in both continents have tl Samlie cllstloii and manuels, anJ a: con:sequently of the same extra tioni. A Kansas paper gives the follo, ing report of a judge's sentene lately passed on a criminal : "Bru lev. vou infamous scoundrel! You': an unredeemed villian : You hair a single redeeming trait in yoi character. Your wife and fami wish we had sent you to the per ten4tiary. This is the rifth time P had you before me. and you ha pIt me to more tronble than yoi neck is worth. I've exhorted a! prayed over you long enough. vt counidrel: Just go home and ta] a glimpse at your faily. and be il short order: Don't let's ev here of you again: The grand ja have found two othir indictmei against you. buit Ill discharge y on your own recoNizanices. and I keteh von in this nick of woods 1 m1orroW Imorn'ling at daylight. I sock you right squ.re in jail a1 hump you oly to Jeffersonville less thanl no time. vol infamo Pscoundrel ! If ever I catch v, crossing your filger at a man. N man or child-white man or nigg -I'll sock vou right square in the jug ! Stand up, you scoundir while I pass sentence on yon 1 A CUTE Cix,K.-It is related tL a dry goods merchant was ve hard on his clerks, and when a v itor left the store without a pu chase lie would discharge the clei He took up a position near t door', and as customers p)assed o would inquire if they had be properly served. On or.e occasi, a lady was negotiating with a ele for a shawl. but the sale was r made. The clerk called the lady's: tention to the old gentleman, w: was as usual standing near the do< waiting to wayliay the lady with t customary questions. "Thatc man," said the clerk, -is crazy. He may attempt to stop you as y go out and you had best avoid hi as he is sometimes dangeroun The lady started for the door. al as the old gentleman approach her. gave a shriek and da: ted o The merchant was greatly astoni. ed. and, walkii.g back to tihe ele asked. "Do yon know that lady --No ir'.' replied the c'lerk -but thtink she is crazy" "You are righ~ returned the old gentleman, 's must be crazy." A minister met a ragged iad the streets of Jersey city, the oti day, thinking to learn something his circumstances. and perhaps y him into Sunday School, also ir a more decent suit of clothes. ask -"Iy little fellow, where is yc father ?" --Dead. long ago," was the rep "Where is your mother ?" "She got married again and s1e edl out West." "And wvhere do you live f "Nowhere." "What. have von no one to lo out for you -" -Not mnelh, only the copis (poli' I looks out for myi~self " "--Well. are'L you not very' unhiapi *miy boy) !" --nhappy : Gus not. Giot hul paper of tobacker, ten eenl three bully cigar buts, and' I ji know how I'm going to crawl urnd Barnum's circus tent ter nite,: se the show for nothin.' *Unhapl Gve me teln pence, old man. a: Ill turn yon a hand spring. ai stand on my head and chaw toba< er. The minister passed on his with new food for retiection. It is announced as an evidence American influence overEnl taste that felt hats are worn fori first time in the House of Comnmo Farmers gather what they s< while the seamstresses sew wi they gather. An unpieasant sort of' arithi ai-Divisi- -am g families. ON SLANG. eA. !>. L:U a t.jin in V s 1!:J xvi sil0n, In Fi ii LIo 1ne phasanIt August atfter n); . hi LoughILtS intent uponl his I unhiy .re'n.1ad his mni;d ithraw fr.om earthly ':arts. Ile wh'11 his t r::r; o thought was rol-iy i ere.-ted by 1 1.e ft')n!i, h. Nk-ll10. where aro you yord !:ht to have b-en there t ad r.tilyt! ''V;Oon he heard his daIuh an S\. ;ol,I,, tio -1 I that youI, .M .:ie U --Y c e d)wn quick. I've got omething to tell you. Il be there iI half a ji ffy.' Then a door opened and shut, An in a few minutes Whnt do yoN think, as I was e cing' over h.2. jher was just ithe stuningLt fellow. r~ight in front o ie. Ju1ut as I go oppo site tle nW1-V chure . n1v mu11sie V- roll sliped and eLy paper in it e. fell out on the sidlewall. a Gncr:ious I shoul i have been ce dumbfoullded." It "And so I was, but it was so r r i diculou.s tiat I almost died a Iy laughing. Well. that tellow, do yon think. ' 1tOped. turned round, and helped ;e me to pick theml up. I was all ir bunky dory, then. lie walked as ia far a 'Lere with m1e. and I thL.k All Cd hiim, of course ete., et'. "You eknow hil--ow 'tis Voirself.0 >ff The goi doctor sra;cLced his Or head. Culd that '. his Nelie, ,y whoml he thought so lady-liku? ts I ie 0peILCd thu door 6oftly, a little n crack, think inz no doubt. that he if hi.1 a r ight to liay th: paL lf 0- li,ener t.0 o rangel lIXed a. 1! coveraLtion.nd ini his UWn Ilouie d c:rv sooll it waIS co nno-d. f his in time llhis daughter com:i-ineCd the iis conIIvecrsatio n. m "There. how's that for hi!h h -- "Oh. isn't that sweet,how much ar was it?" to "Only fi v c dollars - c b e a p ill. enLough'." "Yes, indeed ; but you said you were going to have pilk. this is Never mind, it's all the same - in Dutch." r The doctor peeped in to see what they were talking about-and Miss 10e Nelic was exhibiting her new at bonnkt to the admiring gaze of her le frIend. )fn "It's rag'ing hot here." rk WelI dXon't know as enn ot make it any cooler." sail Nellie it- looking round. "I 'spose father'd 10 kill me if I opened the door." Her >r fther had requested her the day he beforeo to keep the door closed. 'l Irguess it's time for- me to ab - squatulate," said Magie, risinLg. o "o't tear yourself away. Arce mI you going to the lecture to s.night?"' d: -Yes, I had a staring? old time edl last Tuesday night." It. "George Saunders said lie should hl- Lohoe( it younto-nih. Th lat's so. If there is anything~ tI hate 'tis the -boys bothering he0 round;- they ought to be put into a barrel and fed thr-ough the ,bung-h1'ole, until they arec old in enough to behave." er~ " must bid you a fond adieu, DInow. I've grot thLousands of' er et r-nd to do. .to 'Well good-by." ed Oh, the Dickens. I've left my ur L.Iere it is." "Nw,god.y he 'sure and "Yes good-by. p r~Tn the door c,losed andi Nellie went upstairs. The doctor wais surpr-ised, but 110t too) much so not to thinLk of a tunaite habit i nt o) whiebi his daug LIhter had falh-n. The planI wasi' di%cussedl with the youngr la Idy's mother andL adLopted. The toneC for tea had arrived. and L when a all were fairly seated at the table. st ou ha,ve someLL tea Y CI In half a jiffy, matiami.' Ne ~ollie looked up, but hem- father took no nlotie. a llyI this cake is quite stun IJust then his napkin fell to the floor. "Gracious, Vnm condumib-i founded ?" ejaculhated the doctor,I getting it a little wrong. Nellie of gazed at her father in perfect sh amazement. he "My dear, this sauce is staving. ns. Where did you buy it ?" "Im made it," said his wife cool av,ily. tat I"Oh, well,it's all the same in Ger man.'' Nellie dropped her knife and ne- fork. "You must give me some mon aid Mr. fHall. XY :ill hav, I, speIl abilitY' Irst. grow t h ditor. sSVafe T'hen sudnytakt:g t Is IT leiI. I !)V ,reendous. bl-ow. IiTh~e, sail ie. "how's that for0 high ?"' "f know h w ' 1 n.vs)lf.' m -nk he cllimnx. The k that merC!no(i'.)f VInL oner !u) wa.- too nu--1h 1'or -N i. S e b r t n 0 ud. a . wl.tn !Shec. g)t out oi e in2 exci:aned, 'te. . wif'e. CI!S we shall har no more dang phrase fiom her." he dQOtr was right. for -Neilic vas eued >oCL n'atm- a!tv man over' for. v. He bristles with habits ais lish youug ladies do with an 'les. D-o i t m-e!Ty the li vey man. Don't marry a mr a who stop your mouth with Coml,imnts, rakes desnerato love to tN C first time he zCS you, aIId talks about kissing. That ma thinks women are fools: but he ic mistaketi. Dlon'tL arv a nan who tell: wonidel-rfil St.oriCS of, whicbI hre i5 aways the lern. and in whicl It extraurdirnary wit, or sagacity, o1 courage, or lleele o mind these (u.alities not being as a rule Dmn't marry a man who has grea-:t mrany -Sters-. Su:ch a mmi is niwxays ,poil besid which i is not lea ant tu be ngaged to maln Who knows all about vou falso hair, and h( %w nmeh vo:1 dress cost a yard. No woman eai ever be an iden! divinity to a 1ma who has a whole squadroin of sis ters. Don't marry a man who say every wolnan ought to know hov to cook. Don't marry a ian who keep bull dogs. li is sure to be lik, them. Doln't marTy a man whom no body ever sayv.: any evil of. I. SUrne that he is a poor creat ure. Doen't marr-y a man who invents thring"s. In vention is th Don't marry a good-nature manm. G;ood-natur-e is to a ma what the gilt lea naughty boy sometimes adorn a sparro;v wit is to that tunhappy bird. All tb other sparrows ge-t round him an, peek at him. Not long since a very nervon lady took passage at the Tip-To House to descend by the abQos perpendicular railroad. Her fear were aippar-ent to evry one. an, the following iunigne dialogue too: placc between her and the corndut tor: Lady-"-Mr. Conductor-. how ai you hold these cars whe-n you wan to make a stopr? Conductor--Madamu we app)l the brake. which von see there.' Lady---Suppose. Mi-. Conducto: that b)rakce shoild give way-. wha do von do then (' Conductor-- Madam~ we then ai: ply the double acting h. rake. whiel you seeC at the other end of thr car-s. Lady-aBut. Mr. Conductor. sui: pose that brake should not be suff cient to check the ears. where wil we go to then ?! Conductor----Madam, I (cant de cide. That dependstl entirely upo how o hiave lived inl this world TI f lount owe- theC piniIter any th;ing the: e is no d-wger. A wide-awake minister, who foun< is c(ongregation gog to slh+(p b. fre he had fairly ' commence . su delyll stoppedl andi exclaimeld: till I get alonffg. and then if T airn w. rth listening to, go to sleep buit don')t b)efor-e I commence-gir a man a chance .A Frenchman being about t< miove his shop1. his landllor-d enquit n-i t rason. stating at the sama time that it was considered a goo, stand for business. The Frenc1: man repliede "yes, he's a very goo stand for ze busin?ess. Me stand a day ; nobody come to make m move. When Arthur was a very sma boy his mother reprimanded hin one day for some misdemeano: Not knowing it his father bega to talk to him on the same sul ject. Looking up into his fac< Arthu;i said solemnly, "My mothe a 'tetded to me." ADVERTISINC RATES. Advertizemcnts inserted at the rate of $1.00 per square-onc inch-for first insertion, at,d 73e. for each sutsequcnt insertion. Double column advertisements ten per cent on above. Notices of meetings, obituaries and tributes of respecr, same rates per square as ordinaiy adverLi,-ements. Special notices in local column 20 cents per line, Advertiszments not marked with the num ber of insertions will be kept in till for-id aud charged accordingly. Special contracts made with large adver tisers, with liberal deductious on a tove ratt s. J4 PRIZAV Done with Nestness and Dispatch. Terms Cash. M11. JONES'S LOVE-LETTER. -BILLY NONPLUSSED. A young rman. whom we w:ll call Diy Jones, could be seen at 1he post-05iee, a few days ago. ho:I- I to a crowd of friends 1,'the :oul-inspiring letter which hie wonld son receive from his Diu!cinen. The mail-bag distribn td. Mir. Jones hurriedl y eek-'i ils box. there. befbra him11. to his~ hear' Ls delig~ht, W.s the longed for. whLite-wingcd messenger, bear ' Lhe weli-known,initials of his 'i:niet :ail correspondIent. Desiring :o Hw tae productions of* her probfV Lcaglination to a Couple f hs .imate fricnds, he sat down on the stair-wav in the post-offlee and broke the letter open. I bewildered countenance plainiy sWedl that something Was not exactlv right, and folding t u). he gave it to o:e Cf his Con. pauions to read. That corm panion1 has kinly furnished us with the following copy : October 6. 1S73. MY DARLING; BROTiHER: I have just written Bil!y the spooniest lettr i"Ver pcnned by a :i!l "i tO I molnstruck youth. I dislike tO Con!iri"u c'orrCspouding with bn v hile you str'Cnuouny opp,-s th nonscnsical answers to my fish ltters nffOrd me so 0 eh i ausemenit tht 1 canno v it up at present. I write him pa 'o the m.ost familar quota ",z From Shakezpeare. and he thik, i, fill origia; v:!th noe. Us oV*ew mypn. inmr pracitic:al, you must r'emember that I um twen)ty-five years of age, -with' nthing to support me, and n.r l ~ it pospects of ge'tting maied.Ici True. Mr. - nd my sa are engaged but he is too slow, Hnd I fear he wvillI eventually sever ouri association. If I thougtt so)n haw nA o favorable opportu llity of doing better, 1 believe 1. *wou'ld mnarry Billy as the last ye ort Y ou nmust admit that he is a young~ main of somte ability, how ever lmted that may be. and his s prospe'ns of making a living. at l e"st, arie pretty good, con.sidering the times and his childishness; af t ai few years of' contact with this~ working-day world, [ think Bil wil be somnethling. and if not. hi~ submnissive disp)osition and genuine~l affection fur me are comn mc ndalel qualities in his composi Ition.Now, brother-, give eI me y'our consent to keep~ Billy on handl until I am sure what course Mr. will pursue in relation to our engagement. if you can spare fdfty cents, please send it to me, so I can have a gem taken of eme for Billy's watchease. Your ioving sister. ......now went to his box again, an?d rneeivd a p)ostal card bear ing the following brief and ex plaLnatory message: DnMa Bana:Isent you broth er' s lttr through mistake. Mail itt himn in immediately, and he w:il send you yours. Your s weet ch uck. - Bill i s now in a quandary in re'ltion to the course to be par. s ued by him in the future. The. editor ,f the Danbury News ask :Caa tile watermelon be sue t essfuiy cultivated on sandy soil, in a rural town of 4.000 inhabit ants.anid a theological institute 10 eated near by, containing 120 student studying for the minis A. German writing from Phila delphia toLI an American friend who wa in (rermany on a vigit, con elud'r.i his l.tter' thus: "If I hifs til I -e. tell my fr'iends at home -that I rbal visit mfein F"aterland pufbre I leaves Philadelphia. SHlf a pounld 0f shot adminis tered to) sympia: hetic cats af this seasoni o: hOb year' Will bear f'ruit - in in creased hour's of sl umrber' throughnout the 5unmmer. and hav ing~ a t enlnc it'1C prevent a cot'ner tin the cic:ke nmar'ket. e it rather hit the nail on the head when a lady, on being asked what she thought was the mean ing of the words, "The pestilencee -that walketh in the darkness," an swered that, in her opinion, it was Ibedbugs. rLeigh IIunt was asked by a 1 lady if he would not venture on e an orange. "Madam," he replied, 'I should be happy to do so, bat I Iam afrai d I might tumble oft'." A. maiden lady says that if sin gie life is bad, it stands to reason that double life is twice as bad ; btIadiesrrl undrtn buthl atdicesrrl ndrtn meh ameim