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IADVERTISINC RATES. ~TItEH~ALDI 15PUBLISHED per quar-oneinch forfirst in-ertionl, ar,d 15 JUB .I EE ~70. fr each ubsequent insertion. Double g N I I, Noitices ofmeetings, obituaries and tribute 'M-Avlwberry C. J.&Petieens - Special notices in local column 20 cents GREN,rKER,tr a"e * ~. ~R KK~R, IAdvertisemecnts not marked with tbe DLt:m aMi r oprietor. . cio i kept in till forbd ig~$.4 per Jnum, A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. ! tp atthe expiration of Vaieoe xiaine a- Ol. X. WE DNESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 30, 1874. A.-O T9 erms casb. 12- TheX Mawk denotes expiration of gab- IV l 9-G E T 6C.-Wton. I-WE N S A M R U FOOLS. Of all the poor fooa who nhabit this earth FOQk 1!de@n 001s from their birth fools, and great fooL ts drunk is the greatest o thrift who revels in rioto us living spending, or losing, or lending, or giving Is foolish enough; but he has not yet sunk Tothe level of him who is constantly drunk The miser, eternally starving and slaving For what he is earning, or stealing, or sav ing, .-May be reckoned a fool, but HE is not quit4 So foolish as he who will get on a "tight." The man who will wager, and dicker, and lio On e tos of a cent, or the cast of a die, Teavrould think as foolish as foolish couk be, But the drunkard is even more foolish that be. Investments in "wildcat" are mostly a curse fut investments in whiskey are sometbln still worse; For stocks do not always their favors refuse But whiskey investments are CERTAIN t osie. And so I'm convinced of the truth of m. text, Thal of the aUl poor fools, for this world ant the next, The rich or the poor, the great or the small The. man who gets drunk is the greatest o all. IF WE WOULD. If we would but check the speaker When he spoils his neighbor's fame. If we would but help the erring, Ere we utter words of blame; If we would, how many might we Turn from paths of sin and shame? A.h, the wrongs that might be righted If we would but see the wa-? Ab, the pains that might be i:ghtened Every hour and every day, If we would but hear the pleadings, Of the hearts that go astray. Let us step outside the stronghold Of our selfishness and pride, Let us lift our fainting brothers, Let us strengthen, ere we chide; Let us, ere we blame the fallen, Hold a light to cheer and guide. Ak, how blessed-ab, how blessed Earth would be, if we'd thus try Thus to aid and right the weaker, Thus to eheck each other's sigh Thus to talk of duty's pathway To our better life on high. In each life, however lowly, There are seeds of mighty good; Still, we shrink from souls appealing, With a timid "if we could;" But a God, who judges all things, Knows the truth is, "if we would," A KISS. Khad met her at the ball, and our feet Had twinkled together in the busy maze f- the waltz; I had wh irigigged aroundi T3aarily in the "Boston," and .Capered ni-nbly in front of her in the jig square dances, until I was in love, , loving, longed to taste the ambrosial eets of her lips-yes, as a humming bird, there manipulate honey w ithout shadow of foul suspicion. One eve, ht1e dewy stilness, I spied her fair leaning languidly on her father's I approached, and tenderly slipped arm lovingly about he rwaist. She sighed eet girls!-but spasmodically drop. hacee upward, qa my shl34 . I vent those lips, and tQuchinlgWith spine, she hQve which blasted uty love and icnocked . the_ :... - into node a . had INDIAN SUMIM ER. }iothing stirs the stillness, save a leaf that slowly rustles down; ]Nm through sunny mists the trees uplift their branches bare and brown; Winds are ha.Thed, and skies arc soft and gray, and grassy slopes are scrc, Caln ind swea: in4l siilT; ah, sure is this the twilight of the year. There is in this these Octcher days, the mes sage that is sent feacetindvying, Rest, and sjweet and mea5sur: ipss Contg.nt, Life's wild fever over- !eep's soft mood en: chanting, such as fills Golden dreams of gods immortal, sits en throued. ujpon these hills. Off'erel in Day's golden chalice, deep and dreamy peace is mine All's forgotten, lying here and watchini tides of day divine Slowly sweep, along the bills, and vaguet. thrilling to their sway ill that Love h-ith lost, or Wrong bath won O calm and Royal Day. WA TCIIWolRDS OF LIEE. Hope, While there's a hand to strike! Dare, - hile tbere's a ygung heart brave I Toil, Whi!e there's a task unrought! Trust, While there's a God to save! Learn, That there's a work for each ! Feel, That there's a strength in God! Know, That there's a crown reserved! Wait, Tfhough 'neath cloud and red! Love, When there's a foe that wrongs! Help, When there's a brother's need! Watch, When there'sa tempter near! Pray, Both in word and deed! Plato, having raised his hand ti eorreot a servmnt when in angel kept his arm fixed in that postur for a considerable time. To friend, coming in and inquirin he reason of his singniar conduci replied, "I am punishiug a pa to man." MURIEL. BY FANNIE FAIRFAX LEWIS. "Thank 1Heaven the crisis, The danger is past And thc lingering illness I over at last; And the fever called 'Living,' Is conquered at last." --E. A. POE. It matters little how we met. I knew and loved the lady Muriel. Graceful and well formued was he. Her face was bright and beautiful and had a story to tell. The face iras a proud one, too, and Mrs. Moreton was said to be proud, haughty, and self-possessed. The villa in v hich she dwelt stood at some distance outside the village; my father's farni was still farther off. 1 had been born and reared on the farm that had seen many gene rations of my fathers b-fore me. had been sent to college, cda. cated, and hal traveled in forei -n countries: had dreatmt bright and glorious dreams beueath foreign skies. And now I had returned home to settle down into a quiet firin life. A life which in some re spects Iwas totally unfit For. My ambitious spirit could not brook the calm quiet of the country. Yet iL seemed my destiny, and I tried to accept it. Moreton Grange was continual 1 !v tilled with visitors, all of whom delighted to pay homage to its youthful nistress. She had brii liant and wealthy suitors, and how could I hope to win her. And yet I was maly, (leeply, hopelessly in love with the queenly Muriel. I loved with a loe that was moro than love- I ceased to love, be. cause I began to adore. I was an invited guest to all her fetes and assemblies. She was kind-nay, friendly in her demean or to me, so she was to the tame deerin her park. She admired my humble verses and musical tastes. So, too, did she love to look upon thefountain that threw its silvery spray high into the sunlight upon the lawn, or listen to the musical tinkle of its waters as they shiver od and f'ell into the marble basin beneath. I bad knowvn Miss Moreton a year, and as the months sp)ed on I was no nearer the goal of my hopes than before. My hopes, if I could call them such, were cloudy bGcs, the sunlight scarcely broke through. My lady wvas the same calm,n kind and sweet spirit as at the first. Oh, so calm and kind. A rumor had gone fortih that ~he was betrothei. I gave it cred ence, andi determiined to suffer andK be still, to be silent and make no sig~.n. The last beam of hope ha departed. I had determined mae ~-ero~i-t be beautiful and Iglorious face that I1 loved so. It. was a beautiful day in autumn, the sunt was high mn the heavens, Iwreaths, of smoke curled up from Ithe hill-sides, the leaves had be ~gun to turn into red splentior, the Mbrill whistle of the partridge was heard far and widQ. It w:ts adayK fo.r dreams anid not for resolves I had taken my gun and wander ed forth. I had been walk"ig somne distance, and was just cross ing the road, when the sound ofj approacbing ho2fs at no great distance', told of the approach of oquestr-ians. I turned andl beheld two riders, it was Miss Moreton and a gentleman on horseback. He was a stranger, and I remem ber how bitterly-may God for give me-I felt toward him at that *moment. Her lover, thought I. It would have been awkward for nae to have isept on, not tQ sayv un courteous. I waite,l a moment until they came up, intendIing to speak and pass on. "WV hy, good moi-ning, . said the lady reining in her horse "I am gh~d to meet you. Allowv me to introduce nmy particular friend, Mr. Baxter, from the city. The gren tleman bowed hangh tily. :1 stood uncovered and she con tin ued. "Mr. Baxter and nzyself have just been talking about r,mture our grand old mother. Now, I have a capital conundrum for you this moirning: when is tbe best time to study the book of nature? Come, sii, be quick, and tell mc, and I'll give you this bunch of: violets." I began to stamgnzer qi, some Sthing when she said: ""Why, when autumn is turning the lear-es, to be sure. Y ou did Snot know I was so clever, did you, And she broke out into a fit of Smutsical laughter. The biirds seem; -to catch up the silvery ripples as t hey fell from her lips. "But you shall have the violets vf you will promise me to honor ats with your presence, this eve luing at the krange. I expect a i host of friends from the city, and we arc to have some charades ;I will walt you to assist." I could not do otherwise than )romise, and thuts it was written .hat we should meet again. i .urned aside and spoke to my dog, xho had been waiting patiently luring th conversation. He leap :d up toward me, and his leg strik ng the hammer of my fowling )iece caused it to explode. The xplosiori frigtitened the lady's iorse, so that he reared up, and )artly threw her off. Before lie :ou!d run as he attempted to do, I iad caught his bridle, and assisted .he lady to the ground. She lean d upon my shoulder all pale and hite, and asked if I was hurt. LSSured her I was not. "I am so thankful," said she tLhat you are not injured, and that oU have saved my life." Her avalier assisted her to remount, Lnd bowing to me, they rode away. The evening passed off brilliant y, the glar and dazzleof worldly >auty and fashion was there. ced I say that in spite of all I vas restless and most miserable. ;e had seemingly forgotten the LImost tragie event of the morn n.;, and laughed and conversed aily with all. When I looked vith loving eves upon her glorious >caulty and purity, and uponth narked attendance bestowed upon ior by her friend, Mr. B., I was orry that I could not have died a her feet in the morning. I -ould bear the sight no more, and topped out upon the dark vine ,vered piazza. The night breeze 'uned my heated brow, and I had )yran to grow calm, when a cou )!o came out of the drawing room nd saurtered slowly up. I step-i )>d back in the shade to let them )tss. It was Muriel and a gen leman. I can hear her voice low, the low musical voice, she poke calmly and deliberately: "No, my friend. I cannot accept our proposal, and since you press ne, I must say that I do love one >ther than yourself; one who is uigh aud noble." They passed on by me, and we-e soon out of heaing. I lenched my hands, and stood till. "Another poor fool," I mutter ~d. "The chosen one is Baxter. have heard from hecr own lips ho wo:-ds that seal my fate. All ope is now gone. I am glad to' now the worst. I go out from ecr presence, and will see her face o more." I returned home and passed an ~loost sleepless night. Toward noruing I fell into a troubled lc'ep, when I awoke the sun was hiing in at my window, and I vas hot and feverish. From day I) day my fever- increased, such asof dreary restlessness, of osing to and fro, of times when he mind seemed to wvander far f, and then, like the prodigal n, to return, of times a strange hobbng of heart and brain, of imes when the faces of friends Lnd attendants would take strange ud fastactic shapes, of times ven the voices of loved ones voldi sound far' away, seihar away. ind then a strange calm feli upon ne, the old physician shook his ead, and my friends wept. I vas dying. The grave with all s friendly quiet was at hand. 'he last prayer was said, a friend oelt down to catch my last ords. The earth was slipping fast .way from beneath my feet. I trggled for strength and mur nured: "Tell Muriel I loved her to thbe Theo strange calm grew stranger -it grew dark, the friendly oices sounded miles and miles uway. I fet that my eyes were eing clsed, and then all was till. Peace had come at last. How long I had lain thus I knew not-it seemed years. I heard a sou nd--it was the melody > heavenly music. It grew nearer .nd nearer. I listened with rapt .ttetion, with awe. It wvas the solemn sound of the 2hurch organ, and voices singing funeral dirge. The fact gradual ly broke in on my bewildered mind. I was lying in my coffin in the church. M1y first impulse was to endeavor to~ attract the at cution of some one. I might have quivered an eyelid, by a most su)erhuman effort, and be saved, for I felt that some one must be at that moment looking at my cold upturned face. And then the thought came to me of Mur-iel. I remembered her mm.ds sh dn id not love me. Why should I live? -No, the grave wa: my waiting friend. I would di< and make no sign. Death woul( come in a very few minutes, painless death. The solemn chant was ended the perfume from the violCts lyin on my coffin stole in upon my senses, and a great and sweet calm descended upon me, as the well known voice of the village pastor fell upon my ear. Tle services were nearly ended, friendE had taken their last look, the cof tin lid was about to be replaced, when a voice said: "Make way for the lady ; she desires to see the dead." There was a rustling of gar. ments, and a deeper silence. I saw it was my loved Muriel, who was now looking down upon my poor, cold face. Something warm fell upon my hollow check ; it wae her tears ; flaster and faster they fell, and then I could hear the sound of sobs, some one seemed to force her gently away, when she broke out into a wail: "Io is dead, and I loved him so. Farewell, my own, my dear one, farewell." It was the glorious voice I had listened to so often, and loved so well to hear. Something warm tonched my lips, she had kissed mIe. I opied my eyes. I need not recount how, after long lays of careful watching, I was, by the blessing of God re stored to health, and to my own uriel-the one who had spoken and saved my lite. LIEUT.H1AItRY BUFORT. THE LADY OFFICER OF THE RE1EI ARMY-IlEt EXTRAORDINARY CA. REER DURINO AND SINCE THE WAE -SIIE IS WOUNDED THREE TDNIE ON TIE BATTLE FIELD-HER EX PLoITS AND 'MARRIAGE IN ATLAN TA. Wed nesday morning a represen tative of the Constitution had th< pleasure of an introduction to Mirs E. W. Bonner, who is at preseni in our city, and who claims to b4 the original Licut. Harry F. Bu fort, ofthe Confederate army. Mrs Bonner has such documentary proof of the truth of her assertion! in her possession as to leave scarcely any room for doubt. lie: career, taken altoget her, is proba bly the most extraordinary of any woman who ever lived in th4 Southern States, and it is of pecu liar interest to the citizens of At lanta, from the fact that she wai here repeatedly during the war and was married here to her sec ond husband in 1864. It will bi imp>ssible, in the scope of this ar tile, to give more than a brief'al lusion to the more prominen1 points in the life of this remark able lady, for it would take a vol ume to contain in detail her wal record arnd travels since. M1RS. RONNER's EARLY IsTORY. Mr's. Bonner is a lady slightly above the average height, thor oghly educated, and very fluent She is fine looking, and when ir cnver'sationI her face lights up witl interest. She has no hesitancy ir talking about the strange eventi of her life and answered readil' all questians that were asked. 11er mnaideai name was Lorett: Jeanett (lapp ; she was born ii Havananrd is now :31 years of age One of her nucles, a Mr. Trheodor< Clapp, flourished for mrany yer ii New Orleans as a Universalis minister arnd was widely esteeme< and known. Thre family move< from Ilavana to thre United State: wh' M rs. Bonner was quite young 11r chihilhoo)d days were sp)ent in Mississippi, but after she grew ui to gir-lhood her famuily remove< to Te.1w. The early part of Mrs. Bonner'i life is entirely uneventfuT am< about thresame as that of any othe: young lady of the same year's. Mrs. bonner has no brother's ol sisters living. 11er father, Samue S. Clapp, died a Conf'ederate pris oner in Fort Hamilton, N. Y., ii 163. Ier mother died in Texas in 1860. WVh!le the family wer residing in Texas, Mrs. Bonne made the acqaintance of Mr. Wil lam E. Burnett, at the time a sta dent in the military academy a West Point, and whose famil: were her father's neighbors. Al attachment sprung up betweei the young people and they wer married in 185775Irs. Burnett be ing at the time under fourtee1 years of age and her husband: little older. The fact of this maz riage was not allowed to becom known beyond the families, asi would have resulted in the expu 'sioni of young Burnett from th his graduation, Mr. Burnett was made a lieutenant, and ordered to duty in Pennsylvania, where his young wife followed him. TRANSFORNED INTO A REBEL LIEU TENANT. C The extraordinary part of our heroine's career commences with the war. She followed her husband about previous to that time, from post to post and became acquaint. ed with a number of the old army officers. In the early part of 1861, at the inauguration of the war, Lieutenant Burnett determined to t follow the fortunes of his State. le threw up his commission in t the United States army, returned to Texas, raised an independent company, and was ordered to duty at Pensacola, Fla. This brought about a separation between husband and wife, and now Mrs. Burnett first concieved the idea of entering army hersel'. It was arranged between her hus band and herself that she should raise a company and join him in Pensacola. Thus making him a 1 battalion commander. She ac cordingly donned the FULL UNIFORM OF A SECOND LIEU TENANT in the regular Confederate army, and went to Arkansas, where she succeeded in raising a company I of one hundred and thirty-six men. She also assumed the name of Licut. Harry F. Bufort. She speaks even now with much pride of l e r conipany. It was com. posed of splendid material, and vot one of the men knew that the gallant young commander was a woman.- The Lieutenant, with her company, joined her hus band in New Orleans, to which place he had been ordered, and the two companies were merged into the "Louisiana Greys." In the latter part of 1861 her husband was killed, and the young Lieuten ant was left a widow. She went to Fort Pillow with her command, and was promoted to be a first Lieutenant by Gen. Pillow, then commanding at that place. The Lieutenant did not remain long attached to any command. She became what she called "an inde pendent officer," and so remained until 1864, being employed by the Government most of the time in carrying dispatches. It would take a book to hold all of her trav els from point to point while on this duty. woUNDED THREE TIES. Lieutenant Bufort has seen con siderable service in front of the enemy. She wvas in the first bat tie of Manassas, with Col. Chiarley Drew's battalion, and was near Drew when he was killed. She wvent into the battle of Malvern Hill in the 12th Mississippi, under Col. Taylor, and was here wound ed in the right foot, She was in the battle of Shiloh, and on the Monday evening after the fight, was wounded badly in the right shoulder and hand by the burst ing of a shell.. HER CAREER IN ATLANTA. The lieutenant was in Atlanta a number of times, from 1861 to 1864 and was married here in 1864 to her second husband, Capt. By ron De Camp of Van Dorn's cavel 1ry. She knew Capt. DeCamp be Sfore the war, he being a regular army officer. After the death of her husband he courted her by Sletter, and the correspondence was Ikept up for some time. After the battle of Franklin, Tennessee, she met the captain on the batJle field, atnd wa introduced to him. She bad recognized him and had a bun. dle of his letters in her pocket, but he did not for an instant sus pect that the young officer by his side was his sweetheart. On her trip through this city in 1864 she found the captain sick in the hos Ipital here, when she made herself known to him and at his earnest solicitation married him. T be cere Imony took place at the old Atlan ta hotel, and was performed by a -resident Methodist minister. Af ter a brief stay here with her see o nd husband they were forced to -separate. She had dispatches t carry to a distant place, and he r "turned ',o his command in Missis sippi. Before she could join him,I rshe received news of his death, and did not reach Corinth, where -he died, until after his funeral. RUNNING THE BLOCKADE, ETC. SAfter the death of her second, 1 and, at her request, she was employ-. ed by the Government on a differ ent kind of service. She made several trips to and from Havana *to bring supplies. She was also re peatedly in the northern lines and smuggled through supplies as well tas much valuable information. She, at this time, devoted much of eher attention to alleviating the ranffrings of southern prisoners. TRAVELS SINCE THE WAR. After the war and in 1866 she vas married to Mr. John W. Was. on, of Kentucky, and with him vent into South America with the xpedition o:ganized by Dr. Henry . Price, of Virginia. The emi Prants went out under charge of fr. Fred Johnson to Venezuela, nd found that they had been gross. y deceived, as to lands and assist nee from the Government. Here ier husband ded. After remain ng in Sout h America for a short ime our heroine returned to New Cork. From this place she went o Austin, Nevada, and there, and m the 29th of January, 1868, was narried to her present husband, Ir. E. H. Bonner. le is in the nining business, and is at present vith a mining expedition in New vlexico. MRs. BONNER'q MISSION HERE. Mrs. Bonner has come East to ce about a book she contemplates )ublishing, coutaining a history of er life. The book is to be writ en by Mark Twaiu, and will sell veil. She is now on her way to cw York, to see the celebrated Ilmnorist. REMEMBERED HERE. The reporter has seen a number f people here who remembered Jieut. Bufort, and several who vere at her marriage. She was requently seen upon the streets Jnd at the depot, in her full lieu enant's uniform, and a lovely in )erial. S h e certainly made a iandsome officer, and was as gal ant as good looking. Not the east interesting among ber col cetion of papers is a number of ove letters from young ladies bere ind elsewhere, whom the lieuten. int visited while in the army. She says that her sex was onIy liscovered after she had been ounded, and that she passed for i man here until her marriage. Jonsiderable interest has been aken in Mrs. Bonner by a num )er of our cityofficials and citizens. Bhe has been an object of great cu iosity during her few days visit aere, and her army acquaintances, is Lieut. Bufort, with several ex .onfederate officers is well remem bered. She yesterday removed for New ork, but she will return to the 3ctober fair. During the fair she bas, by invitation, consented to en er the riding con test, and arrange nents are on foot to have her de iver several lectures. Mrs. Bon 2er has one child-a boy five rears old-at present in New Or. eans, and has lost two. The people of Iceland for a ihousand years have been famed ~or their simple virtues and a civ lization and learning strangely in 3ontrast with the bleak desolation >f their rugged island. Thbe nation il character was strikingly dis. played in their celebration of their millennial anniversary, which be gan on the 2d ultimo, continuing several days. The Republic of [celand wvas first organized in 874, s that this year completes the millennium of its national exist ance. The ancient Repubile was betrayed to Norway in 1241, and passed under its rule in 1264. By he union of Denmark and Nor way in 1380, its sovereignty pass. d to Denmark, where it has since continued, and the feeling of loyal ty is very strong among the Ice landers, although they detest the Danes. The millennial anniversa ry was signalized by a visit of ing Christian, of Denmark, and the promulgation of a new con stitution, by which Iceland secures local independence and released from the taxation of Denmark. The first day's celebration consist ed of a visit by the King to the cathedral in Reikiavik, where af er a sermon, a noble anthem, both music and words composed by Ielanders in honor of the day, was sung with r-emarkable powe! and sweetness, the emotions of the audience responding to the words, so that tears of joy fiowed down their cheeks. Later in the day a banquet to the King wa givea, in which he gave the firs1 toast to the honor of old Iceland in the true Norse style. As he touched the goblet to his lipS the cannon boomed and the peopl< cheered. In the evening the peo pie of the to.vn gathered at a hil near by, and songs and speeche closed the day. Bayard Tayloi contributed a fine ode, "Americt to Iceland," which was rendere( into Icelandic by one of their poets and sung on the occasion. Fo: several days the celebration con tinned, marked throughout by dignity and simplicity surroundi n it with more true grandeur tha could have been conveyed by th greatest pomp or elaboration c displayo THE DEACO'NS STORY. It was coUrt Ltime in W., and the place was crowded to its utmost capacity. The jolly host of the Black Bear rubbed his hanr1ds and stroked his well developed waist coat, as room after room in the tavern was filled. The bar.room was, as usual, well stocked with' customers, and frequent were the calls made on "mine host's" sup. ply of liquors. A crowd was con gregated in the iminediate vicini ty of the fire and seemed in a hap py state of mind cullectively. Jesis and repartee were bandied from'! one to another, and inirth-pro voking stories were told. The chief talker, however, was a smart, dapper little lawyer, who had gained a case that day, and therefbre seemed to consider him self as "something considerable." le had a smart saying for every one,and but few escaped his jest. His principal victim, however, was Deacon Jones. Many stories be told about deacons, and inquir ed if Jones was the Deacon who, when he was elected to that high position, was so overjoyed tiat, on his arrival home, happening to meet his cow, he threw his arms on her neck, exclaiming, "O, Nun ny! you are no common cow now; you're a deacon's cow," and many other questions of like import. The deacon stood it pretty well, and bore the laugh like a martyr. At length, he said he had a story to tell, and demanded a hearing. Silence was obtained through the exertion of the little lawyer, who was overjoyed at the thought of getting a story from the deacon. "Ye see, Mr. Lawyer," began Jones, "last summer when the chol era was around, I cetched it. It went mighty bad with me, I tell ye, so that they gave Ie up, and I bid my family good-by, and made up my mind to die as only a Unris tian -an ; I hope when your time comes you can do the same, but I'm afraid ;" and the deacon shook his head salemnly. "Well, ye see, I didn't 'zactlv die. but I came pretty near it. I wet off in a trance." "In a trance !" exclaimed the lawyer. "Yes, in a trance?" "What were your sensations ?" "T hat was jest whbat I was comn ing to. I thought that the angel Gabriel came to my bedside and raised me up and carried me through the sky, until we stood before the gates of heaven. "I thought that the angel turned to me and said, 'Mortal, you are brought here to see some of the glories of heaven and the miseries of hell; then you will return and rejoin your friends on earth, to abide there a short season, after which you will return to heaven, and p)artake of the happiness of the elect. "Then we entered the gates, an d my ears were saluted with sounds of melody and praise. But Iwill not attempt to describe all I saw and beard. The angel was very com municative, and readily answered all my questions. Wishing to know about a few of my friends, who had gone before me, I ques tioned him concerning them. Some he called to his presence, but at the name of some he signi ficantly shook his head. I inquir ed for 'Squire Grasper.' The shake was repeated. Supposing he mis understood me, I again inquired. Another shake. "'lile was a member of our church in good stanrding,' said I. "'He was a lawyer,' said the angel, 'was he not ?' S'Yes,' said I. "'We have no lawyers here,' was the reply. A burst of laughter went up from the entire company, and the law yer's themselves participated there in. The deacon continued: "'We then left hearen, and pass ed through a dark cloud, entered the confines of hell. We paused at the gate an-d knocked. The door swung slowly back, ar'd we enter ed. For a short space 1 could see nothing but a confused mass roll. ing here arnd there ; but my eyes soon became accustomed to the sight and I perceived spirits dart ing now here, now there, and seem ing as if trying to escape some terrific fate. The Prince of Dark ness himself did the honor-s, and showed us round. Still wishing to see the Squire, I ing:gired for him. Satan clasped his fingers to his head, Ias if' in a study, and slowly cx claimed: r"'He is not here.' "'Not here! Ireplied. Why he must be here ; be is not in heav. en,' "'He was a lawyer, I believe ? 1said Satan. "'Yes,' I a' red. "'Ah hae snot- here. We had zo many lawyers sent lere that ivith their demiriurrers. their mo Jons, atfidavits, indictments, etc., fny prerogatives were in dauger. so Ahat I was obliged, in selfdeleense. o banish them fi-on mv king oim.' "Thanking his highness for his -ourtesy, we left. I retiurned to 'arth and clonscionsuess, and ever ;ince then have been pondering on he question, WheIre do !awyers o to?" Peal after peal of laughter greet ,d the conclusion of the deacons lar-rative,and the little lawyer was lumb. Ne.t morning he left, as ic could not answer the question o often proposed to him of -Where do lawvers go to ?" A STORY FOR YOUNG MEN. Several years ago, a youth of ;ixteen years of age, of good sense. ,nd a fair English education, not [aving profitable employment at bis father's home in Kentucky. iought for employment among his anterprising neighbors a few miles distant, and aiLthough wages were ow in those days of gold and sil ver currency, he saved from his first year's wages seventy dollals. lie was then seventeen years of age, healthy, lively-looking. aspi. ring and ambitious to become use Cul, noble, and perhaps great. He had already learned that money loaned at high rates of inrerest was oppressive to the borrower, and reacted on the loaner, and in the faliing of prices of nearly all the articles in the commercial world; that men sought justifica tion for their delinquency and bankruptcy in the fact that they had paid large rates of interest. Feeling. therefore,that liberality as well as justice was necessary in every man's dealings with his fel lowmen, this youth loaned his severity dollars to an exemplary, enterprising and prosperous trad ing man in his neighborhood, at the lowest rate of interest known in business in that State, viz.: six per cent. per annum. ie work ed another year,clothed himself in Kentucky jeans and other cheap but neat articles of apparel, and went to a country .school three months in the winter of that year, and learned the rudiments of' Lat in, and something of the higher branches of' mathematies, working for a pr-osperous and li ber'al fatrmer-. evenings andl mornings, to pay the board, andl at the end of the second year, or when he was cigh teen years of' ag'e, he had saved ninety-six dollars more. The young man's character for industry and integrity began to be better known in the neighbor 1h00d, and his services were sought for. le wvorked on a farm, and i-ode as collector for tr-ading men and the sher-iff of his county; and at the end of his nineteenth year he had saved one hundred and ten dollar's more. With the interest accumulated on his other two years' wages, he had now threce hundr-ed dollars. was comfortably elathcd, and had a good business edncation, which he imiproved fr'om one winter to another-, till he became a scholar. both literary and scientifically. His influence and usefulness in creasing, he had at the age of twenty years, fonr hundred and eighty dlollars. At the ago of twenty-one, this young man had accumulated six hundred and fifty dollars, and1 was well known foi- his activity of life, as a young man of' inteliigence,vir tue and usefulness, as well as being a young man of very~ attractive wanys. HIe moved to a Western State where !and was cheap, and entered one hundred and sixty acres by land warrant, which he put-chased with one hundred and fifty dollars of his money. lIe made a good selection of land, in a good r-egionl of conn try, and used a por-tion of the balance of his money in impr-ovinig his land, buy ing~ a little stock and a few imple ments for farming. and the second year he raised a small crop. After he had gone to his new neighborbood with about four hundr-ed dollars in money, and used it cautiously, he, by degrees, gained the name of a responsible citizen and a good paymaster, and his influence rose gradually from his appearance among his new and scattered neighbors. Year after year he raised a crop, read the best newspapers, periodi cals and books, which still furthei improved his mind, till cattle sheep, and other stock grew u; in flocks around him, more land adjoining him being purchasec from time to time, till now h finds him,self, when scarcely ar rived at the age of twenty-sever years.jthe fortunate possessor o anapefortunc and an enviabb renntatioD. TABLE CUSTOMS. While certain forms of the table etiquette may seem altogether con ventional, even fanastic. the forms usual1v observed are founded on good seLlse, and adapted to gene ral convenience. Table etiquette is not, as is often alleged, merely a matter offashion. altLough sonic things that were in vogne, a gene ration or two ago, are no longer deemed polite. The reason is tbat mauners and table furniture have undergone so many changes; have really so much improved, as to re quire a mutual re-adjustment. For exam ple, everybody was accustom - ed twenty or thirty years since, to ue the knife to carry food to the mouth because the fork of the day was not adapted to the purpose. Since the introduction of the four tined silver fork, it has so entire ly supplanted the knife that the usage of the latter, in that way, is not only superfluous. bat is re garded as a vulgarism. Another example is the discon ti.nuance of the custom of turning tea or coffee from the cup into the saucer. Although small plates were frequently employed to set the cup in, they were not at all in general use; and even when they were used the teaor coffee was like ly to be spilled upon the cloth. The habit, likewise, of putting one's knif3 into the butter arose from the fact that the butter knife proper had not then been thought of. Such customs as these, once necessitated by circumstances, are now obliviously inappropriate. Certain habits, however, are re gulated by good taste and delicacy of feeling, and the failure to adopt them argues a lack of fine percep tion or social insight. One of these is eating. or drinking andiblv. No sensitive person can hear any one Laking his soup, coffee or other liquid without positive annoyance. Yet, those who would be very un willing to consider themselves ill bred are constantly guilty of such breach of politeness. The defect is that they are not so sensitive as those with whom they come in contact. They would not be CIs turbed by the offense ; they never imagine, therefore, that any one else can be. It is for them that rules of etiquette are particularly designed. Were their instinct correct, ther would not need the rule, which, from the absence of instinct, appears to them irration - al, p)urely arbitrary. To rest one's elbow on the ta ble is more than a transgression of courtesy, it is an obsolute incon venience to one's neighbors. All awk wardness of position, such as sitting too far back from, or lean ing over the table. arc reckoned as rudeness, because they put others ill at ease through fear of such ac cidents as are liable to happen from any. uncouthness. Biting bread or cake, instead of utting or breaking it into mouth fuls. is unpleasant, since it offends our sense of form or fitness. These and kindred matters are trifles; but social life is so largely composed of t? ifies that to disre gard them wholly is a serious af front. We can hardly realize to what extent our satisfaction or dissatisfaction is made upof things in themselves insignificant, until their obser-vance or non-observ ance is brought dir~ctly home to us.- Scribner's Monthly. In the northwestern corner of the territory of Wyoming is located one of the most beautiful lakes on this contcinent, if not in the world. Ad jacent to it are four majestic rivers, the Yellowstone. flowing into the Mis sissippi at a distance of 1,300 miles; th issippi itself, which finds its way to the Gulf through the fa.thers of waters; the Columbia, which leads to the Pacific, and the Colorado, which, passing through the most remarkable canon in the world, discharges its wa ters in the Gulf of California. Group ed around this lake and in the inidst of this water-shed is perhaps the grandest display of cataracts, hot springs, geysers, mud volcanoes, and natural architectural beauties to be found on the face of the globe. At a meeting in London to receive a report from the missionaries sent to discover the tribes of Israel Lord H was asked to take the chair. "I take," he said "a great interest in your re searches, gentlemen. The fact is, I have borrowed money from all the Jews now known, and if you can find a new set I shall be very much obh?zed." A Western Postmaster writes to the Postmaster-General "that hell will be full of country Postmasters before long if they dont get more pay than allow ed this offiee." "I should have no objection," said a hen-pecked husband, "to my wife's having the last word, if I could only be assured that it would be the last." Why is the letter K like a pig's . tail ?-Because it's the latter end afonrk.