University of South Carolina Libraries
A Family Companion, Devoted to literature, Miscellany, News, Agultr,Mres e Vol. Xe WEDNESDAY M3ORNING, DECEMBER 2,1S4No48 THE HERALE IS PUBLISHED EVERY WED-NESDAY MORNING, At Newberry C. R-.q BY THOS. p. GRENEKERY Editor and Proprietor. Terms, $2.5o per efjlan3 IL-;ariably in Advance. r-- The paper is stopped at the expiration ol time for which it is paid. SThe mark denotes expiration of Sub x-cription. Js B, LEONARD & CO0, Wholesale and RetaUl Dealers in TOB:HA,CCO, Imported and Domestic Segairs, Of which we always have on hand a large and superior stock. Imported and Domestic Wines and Liquors OF BEST QUILITIES. Always in store Pure North Carolina VOR'N WHISKEY, APPE and PEACH B RAN D IES. J. B. LEONARD & CO. Nov. 4, 44-3m. JINOs Es WEBB" & C0Os COTTON BUYERS, Will always PAY THE HIGHEST MAR KET PRICES FOR COTTO-N, and also make LIBERAL ADVAN\CES to parties wishing to ship to cither'.New York, Dos ton or Charleston. Pate wishingUD to STOR G COtTO wil doM11 wel to cal on IESS .WB J30try. TOMY OLD SILK DRESS. BY 3MATTIE A. SINGLETON. I have a dear silk dress which I really adore; About five tiusand years ago-perhaps a little mr-re Mrs. Noah in her kindness did bequeath il unto me, And the vessel which did bring it. navigated every sea, Red, Black and White and Yellow and others, as is plain, For in lovelinessupon it, from each sea there is a stain; And I never feel so queenly or so grand as when I wear This brave antedilavian dress, so old, and very dear! The rents upon its surface are quite nume rous indeed, But the ancientistof darning, and the mod ern, both succeed In helping well its brave old threads from falling into rags; And grandly as on battle-fields do flaunt proud battle flags, This venerable garment with me wepd its way to chureh; And in the congregation, let the busy body search For some gossip about dresses-she Is wel come, I declare, To be as spiteful as she pleases at the dear old dress I wear. Old friends are highest valued-and old wine, as I have heard, And old coins of rarest mintage-so the learned have averred Are most prized among the knowing, and the rule should be the same With old dresses, by the silly and the giddy worn with shame. But let others sport their muslins of the new est cat and print, And spend money by the million as if parents owned a mint, I shall practice my economy, and more, my love of thee, Dear old dress, which Madam Noah, my ancestress left to me! A MARRIAGE SERVICE. MINISTER. This woman wilt thou have And cherish her for life, Wilt love and comfort her And seek no other wife? HE. This woman I will take That stands beside me now, I'll find her board and clothes And have no other "frow." MINISTER. And for your husband wilt You take this nice young man, Obey his slightest wish And love him all you can ? SHE. I'll love him all I can, Obey him all I chose, And when I ask for funds He never must refuse. MINISTEE. Then you are man and wife, And happy may you be; As many be your years As dollars in my fee! KYa, oP the Ma3on's DaughteP, CHAPTER I. Faster and f.ster spread the flames, and now the ship was~ en veloped in a fiery sheet. Men and women rushed madly over the side to seek a quicker but less painful death. The boats, with one excep tion, had been overloaded and cap sized. There were hasty prayers, and heart-rending cries of misery and distress. Death hovered, vul hure like, over his victims; some clung desperately to the vessel's side, some supporting themselves in the water by articles snatched hastily from the burning ship, and with which they had leaped wildly into the sea. The Captain sang through his trumpet, "Take heart, and sustain yourself as long as pos sible. A ship is coming to our re lief." James Du.rant stood upon the al most deserted deck, with his only child, but four years of age, folded closely in his arms. His eyes swept the horizon in search of the ship to which the Captain had alluded. He discovered it at length, but it was at least four miles off. Before the ship could arrive, they must be burned to death; or, if he sprang as others did down into the water, both he and the child would be drowned, for he was not a swim mer. The little arms were twined about his neck, the pale cheek rest ed confidingly against his own, but the brave child did not tremble. "0, my God, is there no help ?" cried the despairing father, as the flames swept nearer, and he felt that his present position could be held but a little longer. "Here, give the child to me, and I will save her," and turn ing quickly Mr. Durant stood face to face with a stranger who held a life pr-eserver in his hand. "Quick there is no time to be lost. The child can have my lifg preserver, and it will float her easi ly. Yonder is another ship ; I have been watching it for the last five minutes. It will reach us in half an hour at the most. There, is that fastened securely ? Now, little girl I am going to throw yon into the water. You are not afraid?" "No, nn- hnt my papn 1". The father caught her frantically in his arms. "My darling, Eva, you may never see your father again ; but do not fear-God will guard you, and some body will find you and care for you. If you never see papa again, re imember be is in heaven with mam ma. "Has she no relatives ?" asked the stranger. "None in this country; I am from England and am traveling for her health." "Take that pin from your bosom .nd fasten it to her clothing." "Heaven h e Ip you for the thought," said the father ; and in a moment the square and compass was glistening in the bosom of the child and the stranger took her from her father's arms, saying: "I am stronger than you; and she must be cast beyond the reach of these poor drowned wretches, or they will rob her of her life preserver." The white d r a p e r y fluttered through the air, and sank below the waves; then rising it floated lightly upon the waters. James turned to the stranger with tearful eyes: "May God bless and preserve you, noblest of men. But you 9nd myself must be lost." "No ; I am a good swimmer, and here is a piece of board with which you can sustain yourself till relief arrives." The father cast another glance at the white speck floatiing rapidly away and with an inward "God pre serve her !" sprang into the sea fol lowed by the stranger; but the two floated in different directions and they saw each other no more. Two hours later James Durant awoke, as from the sleep of death, and foaud himself in the cabin of a strange ship, with kind and sym pathiziig faces all around him. In a moment he realized all that had passed, and said eagerly, though feeble, "My child, my little Eva, is she safe?" There was no response, andl a low moan escaped the father's lips. "Courage, sir," said the lady with tearful eyes, "some passengers were saved by another ship." The father's countenance lighted, "God grant that she may be saved!" Mr. DurTant recovered 'his usual strength in a few hours, and sought among the saved for the stranger who had proven himself so true a Masonic brother, but he was not to be found. "He must be on the other ship," said Mr. Durant, "and he will care for Eva." Both ships were at port in New York the following day, but al though Mr. Durant found the stranger who befriended him, and who proved to be a Mr. Wadsworth, from a Southern city, Eva had been seen by no one, and was given up as lost. CHAPTER II. "Here, wife, is a child that has just been washed upon the beach. She ig now cold and stiff; but I think she is not dead. Let us have some waru flannels immediately, and tell Thomas to run for Dr. Hunt." It was long before the quivering lashes and feeble fluttering of the heart gave token that success would crown the efforts of Eva's rescuers; but, by and by the lids parted, and revealed two large, liquid sky-blue eyes, that wandered froLn face to face in a bewildered way, and then closed wearily. "I fear she will not recover very rapidly," said the Dr. "She has a delicate constitution and will re quire tiie best of care." "Poor child," said Mrs. Turner, "I do not wonder she is nearly dead, but who can she be ? Some terrible accident must have occured at sea." "You had better examine her clothing," said the Dr.; "perhaps you may find some clue to her rela tions." Mrs. Turner lifted the gossamer white dress and turned it over and over. The square and compass placed by Mr'. D)urant flashed upon the eyes of all at once. The Dr. and Mrs. Turner looked at each other, but neither spoke, and Mrs. Turner did not notice the tear that glistened in her husband's eyes. The doctor's fears that Eva would not recover rapidly, proved to be well founded; days and weeks of fever succeeded the awakening to life, during which she talked incohe rently of "papa" and "poor dead mamma" and of the "burning ship," and of "hunger." She finally ~awoke to consciousness, and ask ed many questions as to how she came in that dark room, and who were those who attended her, but Dr. Hunt forbade her being ques tioned until she was stronger. How interested were al in the littic convalescent, whoni the eie- 1 ments had cast into the little sea board town! The ladies declared I that never before did a chld pos sess such lovely eyes, or such beau- 1 tifil curls; while the gentlemenj seemed not less interested, and I brought her gifts of everything I that might please her childish fancy. I "My dear little girl," said Dr. i Hunt, when Eva was at length able j to ride out, "will you tell me your I name?" "Eva," said the child, "I thought you knew it." "Yes, I know your name is Eva, t but I want to know the rest of your f name-your father's name." "Eva Durant, Mr. Durant , ny papa." "Yes, now I want you to tell me 1 all you can remember about your father and mother." I "Eva's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, S sir, my mamma, died and went to live I with the angels. And I do not know where father is. He said if I C never saw him again I must know t he had gone to mamma." "Where were you when he told 1 you this ?" t "On the -ship; and oh, the fire c burned me so; and papa held me t in his arms until a strange man r took me and tied something under f my arms, and threw me into the f water, and I have not seen papa since. 0, sir, can you tell me where t he is?" - . "No dear child; but perhaps we v may yet find him." il And this was all that Eva's new t friend could discover. It was plain 4 that she had come from the ship d which had been burned a few weeks before; that she had been cast v upon the sea and had floated upon the shore; but where was her t father? Had he been saved; and s was he searching for his child ? Every possible effort was now made to find him. The circumstances of t the case, with the .statement of the f child, were published fully in the c newspapers of the neighboring t cities; but the grief-stricken father, n believing his child to be lost, had v sailed a week before for Europe, a and it soon became evident in the la minds of Eva's protectors, that he s had perished. But the little one v still prattled about her "papa," and t said he would come by-and-by, and 14 those who believed differently would t not pain her by contradiction. l The square and compass that had c been found upon her clothing was g regarded as a powerful appeal fro~m ii a Mason to his brethren to care for ii his child. So it came to pass that Eva became as it were, the special y charge of Hiram Lodge, No. 93.- b Mr. Turner would gladly have taken t the entire care of the little waif, and o the wealthy Senator W-requested v to be allowed to adopt her as his n daughter, but the Brethren in Lodge assembled, declared by vote that ti Eva should be reared, educated and n protected by the Lodge, and that as Providence had placed her in Bro- d ther Turner's house that should be b her home. h And so the years went by, and a Eva became a healthy, joyous child, h flitting here and there, and every where meeting the warmest of wel- a comes. The Masonic Hall was but a a few rods from Mr. Turner's resi- " deuce, and Eva often went with him V as far as the door, and then return ed alone, always bidding the Tiler t: "take good care of Pa Turner and send him home early." b CHAPTFR III. The six years that followed the 0 death of his wife and the loss of a his child, passed wearily to James Durant. He visited nearly every 0 country in the Old World, seeking et among scenes of beauty and gran deur as well as historic interest for ~ the mental rest that could never be found. Once more he turned his steps towards America and sought his Masonic friend, Mr. Wads worth. Finding that gentleman ~ about setting out with his family s on a journey to the Atlantic coast, Mr. Duant accepted the invitation to accompany them to Saratoga, and r Niagara, then to New York, where, leaving the ladies, Mr. Wadsworth t and Mr. DJurant wandered from ' town to town along the coast, en joying the beauty of the scenery r and the quiet hospitality that greet 11 ed them, more than the crowdeds hotels and the fashionable styles of' l the popular wvatering places. Fancy and the kind hand of Providence at length led them to the little town a of B--, and the second evening t< after their arrival they visited the a Masonic Lodge. A warm welcome was extended to these Brethren from such distant homes, and both si were invited to address the Lodge. o: Mr. Durant said:I "Brethren: Ihave traveled much~ and long. I have found Masonic sympathy in every part of the globe, n mad eorywhr. iu maaonry sanbutan- pi ially the same. I can hardly tell vhere I reside. The world seems o be my home, as I remain but a -hoit time in any town or country, )ub my name is recorded in an nglish Lodge. I love my English )rethren, for they first brought ime foa "darkness to light," and I love 1nglish soil, for within it sleeps the vife of my youth. But I love Lmerican soil also, for here have i ound the warmest welcomes, the indest of brethren. And, too,- my wn child is sleeping in American vater, even beneath the very waves hat wash the shores of your beauti al village." "Six years have passed since this ear friend and brother robbed imself of his life-preserver that my Ittle Eva might perhaps escape, nd we hoped the elements might e kind, and that Heaven would end her relief; but she was never .eard of more." The voice af Mr. Durant was nivering with emotion, and unable D speak further, he seated himself. Glances of surprise and pleasure 7are cast from one to another among Le brethren of Hiram Lodge. No ne spoke however, but all eyes arned upon the Master, Mr. Tur er. For a moment he seemed re ecting; then taking a slip of paper com the Secretary, he wrote "Mrs. Turner-Do not allow Eva retire until I return home. I am oing to bring a strange gentleman rho wishes to see her." And call. ig the Junior Deacon gave him ae. note, saying in a low voice, Take this to Mrs. Turner, imme iately." "Why, Eva," said Mrs. Turner, rhen she had read the message, you are to have company. A gen [eman at the lodge.room wishes to e you." "Who can it be ?" Eva l o o k e d perplexed and aoughtful; suddenly her cheeks ushed, her eyes brightened and iapping her little hands, she sprang : her feet and exclaimed: "Oh, it must be papa! no one else would rish to see me; no one in the world;" nd before Mrs. Turner compre ended the child's interpretation, he had passed the threshold, and ras flitting through the moonlight >ward the lodge-room. The Tiler >oked amazed when Eva burst into de ante room, her cheeks burning, er eyes flashing with joy and ex itement. "Do not stop me ! I am oing in !" she exclaimed. But the mner door was fastened, and the npatient Eva cried with vexation. "Wait a moment," said the Tiler, !ho having heard nothing of what ad transpired within, was at a loss > account for the strange conduct f the child. "wait a moment pind I ill send your requcst to Mr. Tur er." "I shall not wait ; I do not want > see Mfr. Turner; I want to see iy papa." "The child is crazy, that is evi ent," said the perplexed Tiler to imself; but calling out the deacon e bade him say that Eva was there ad determined to get into the >dge room. The deacon went to the East, and elivered his message in a low tone, nd a moment afterward moved that the craft be called from labor > refreshment." "Now," said Mr. Turner, "tell ae Tiler to let her come in." And Eva did come in, or rather ounded into the hall, more beauti 1 in her excitement than ever be re. She advanced to the centre the room and stood beside the tar ; half poised upon one tiny Ot she scanned rapidly the faces f all. Her eager eyes soon detect the strangers, who were seated eside each other, and for a mo ient she seemed irresolute, then ar ting forward with a glad cry, she drew her arms about"the neck of ir. Durant, crying, "Oh, papa ! my ear papa! you have come home at Lst ! You were not bued in the bip?'' We will not attempt to paint the ene further, but will leave our eaders to imagine the joy of the >und father, and also leave them >decide whether the tears that ret the cheeks of the Brethren of [irana Lodge were caused by sym athy with the happiness of their tle charge, or grief that they ould lose one whom they all >ved. In five hours and three quarters n Indianapolis fireman ate seven men and three quarter watermelons, d lives to tell the tale. Thirty-four vessels laden with this ~asons wheat are reported to be their way to England from San rancisco. Witnvsitn ad antb aie*tls -hnlterrtso riten iiigcrd antb ailed at less than lettcr rates of ~~tage. T- - I isutllanuns. [Correspondence of the Courier-Journal.] WILD BILL. A DAYS IDE WITh A NOTED WESTER: cmur.n-crE--T1.E SCOUT AS 11E REAL LY IS. After a. month's sojourn in Colo rado I stepped on board the easteri bound train and bade the city o: Denver and the grand old Lock3 Mountains a final adieu. I had seen the wondrous Garder of the Gods; I had feasted my eyes upon the glorious sunsets equal tc those of Italy ; I had stood on moun tain tops, with eternal snow arouni me, and the gray, misty clouds roll ing at my feet, and yet I ws re turning home, a weary and disap pointed man. I. was returning home to meet the jeers of sarcasti< friends, with no better record t< show than a few insignificant squir rels and mountain grouse. In the bitterness of my spirit ] went into the baggage car to wreal my vengeance upon all lucklesE prairie dogs or jack-rabbits thal came within range. I was so for tunate as to knock over twQ or thre of the comical little "pups" and a rabbit, while the train was a full speed, much to the delight o the train-boy, as true a type o: bright, saucy young America as ] ever saw. In the course of the day several passengers dropped in to see th< sport. Among them was one wh< appeared to be "a spirit kindred with my own," for he stood by and watched the success (or failure) o: each shot for full an hour with una bated interest. He was dressed ip a neat gray suit, and was to all ap pearances only an ordinary travel er, of medium stature; but I have since fancied that I might have de tected in his keen, sparkling. blue eyes. some of the traits which have made him famous. Now one of the pleasantesi things in the Colorado tour is thai you are liable to be thrown in con tact with some distinguished persor at any time without knowing it, Still, I was really much surprised~ when the train-boy whisperedin my ear, as the gentleman walked leisure ly away, that "He was the regula old injun fighter, Wild Bill." I had heretofore clung to the stage conception of the Western desperado-a being some six and a half feet high, with long, flowing hair, scarred face, tobacco stained mouth, and buckskin vestments adorned at all available points, with some offensive or defensive weapons. So when I was informed that the mild, gentlemanly young man, look. ing exactly like a clerk out on a holiday, was the celebrated scout and Indian fighter, Wild Bill, I naturally supposed that the train boy was exercising his propensities for mischief upon me by endeavor ing to perpetrate a "glorious sell," and it required the united asser tions of several passengers an4d the conductor to convince me this was really the veritable "Wild Bill." "Oh, what a fail was there," etc., and was this dapper little fellow, who, from all appearances, might have been a patent right man, or a dry goods drummer, the same ro mantic dare-devil of a scout who figures so largely in the dime novels and the imagination of Young America. "It is all on account of his hair," softly whispered the train. .boy, seeing my look of incredulity ; "if you could only see him when his hair is long." The ellipsis was left for my imagination to fill, but the impression intended doubtless was that I would be rooted to the ground by awe and amazement. Actuated by a~ pardonable curios ity, I seated-myself by his side and proceeded to interview him accord ing to the best known models, In this I succeeded far beyond my ex pectations, as Wild Bill is usually very shy and reticent with stran gers. He informed me that he was then on his way to an Eastern city to meet a large party of English gen tlemen to whom Buffalo Bill, Texas Jack and himself were to act as guides during a three months' hunt in the Yellowstone country and in the Rocky Mountains. They were to receive for their services the small sum of $8,000. These famous scouts are always well paid for their skillful guidance and are fre quently the recipients of valuable presents from generous tourists. Wild Bill wore in his breast, at the time I met him, a magnificent dia mond pin presented to him by an English nobleman. I could not help wondering, as I looked in the face of the quiet, reso lute man beside me, whether re. morse had ever laid her evenomed lash upon him, or if memory did not someltimes call baQk his vi@tims from an untimely grave to haun1 him with their awfal presence. AnC I was afterward informed, on credi ble asuoity, that he lives in con stant fet of assassination, and thai he fregnwntly suffers under somc h1-orrible nightmare, when, after ut tering the most dreadful groans, he will gradually awaken in an agony of fear. We passed through a lit tle town in Kansas, where it is said Wild Bill could not show his face without being shot or strung up. He was once United States Marshal there, and ruled the town with a strong and heavy hand. It is said that he killed four United States soldiers there in one . drunken squabble, and it wq not ~a very good night for soldiers either. But this article would be incom plete should I pause here. It is my duty to gently but firmly dispel the illusions fondly cherished by many young persons of an ardent and romantic nature. Many boys have an idea that the Western scout is a person of rare bravery and nc bility of soul, who generously de votes himself to the business of res euing disconsolate maidens or burst ing in at the eleventh hour among Indians engaged in burning his bosom friend, whom he invariably succeeds in freeing before the amazed savages can do either ol them any injury; while his leisure time is engaged in such agreeable diversions ag "chasing the Buffalo qver the boundles prairie," "1decoy ing the timid antelope," etc. In conclusion, I will draw a slight sketch of what I conceive to be the true character of the average Western scout: He is sometimes, but rarely, a gentleman in deportmenti very often kind hearted in a rude, rough way, and generally an inveterate gam bler, besides drinking frequently and copiously. Valig his own life at but little, he is ever ready to resent any fancied affront with the bowie knife or pistol, In short, he is a being leading a most unnatural existence, destitute of the feelings which lend polish to civilized life, and generally perishing by the hand of violence before the priJme of life. THrE WAY To CoNQUE.-"fIl mas ter it," said an axe, and his blows fell heavily on the iron ; but every blow made his edge more blunt, till he ceased to strike. "Leave it to m.e," said the saw ; and with his relentless teeth he worked backward and forward on its surface till they were all worn down or broken ; then he fell aside. "Ha.! ha!" said the hammer, "I knew you wouldn't succeed; "I'll show you the way." But at his fierce stroke off few his head and the hammer remained as before. "Shall Itry?" asked the soft small flame. Now they all despised the flame; but he curved gently around the iron, embraced it, and never left it until it melted under his irresisti ble influence. There are hearts hard enough to resist the force of wrath, the malice of persecution, and the fury of pride, so as to make their acts recoil on their adversaries; but there is a power stronger than any of these and hard indeed is the heart that can resist love. THE Ha.-Profound study has led Mi~. d'Arpentigny to the conclu sion that the hands represent three types. Those whose fingers have pointed tips are possessed of a rap id insight into things; are extra sensitive and pious, impulsive. To this class belong the poets and ar tists. To the "square tops" belong scientific people; sensible, self-con tained characters, professional men. The spade-shaped tops-thick tips, with little pads of flesh on each side the nails-are materialists, commer cial, practical, with a high appre ciation of all that tends to bodily ease and comfort. Each finger, no matter what the kind of hand, has also one joint-that which is near est the palm--representing the body; another the middle, the mind; aad the top, the soul. Each of these divisions corresponds with one of the types above given. EcoMor.-The most economical Governor is the Governor of Wis consin. The Chief Justice of that Commonwealth rendered a decision some weeks ago, in the railroad cases, which was thought the most important decision that was ever rendered in that State. But the Governor sent a message to the Chief Justice requesting him to cut down his opinion to about one third or one-half its present length, be cause it will cost too much to print The proportion of the illiterate under eighteen is smaller in San Francisco than in any other large oity in the Union. A TRUE TEMPERANCE SKETCH. BY MRS. ALICE RANDOLPH. Paul Remington was addicted to the terrible vice of intemperance, which his friends greatly deplored, I and strove in vain to break him of. But what his friends could not do, it was reserved to a beast without I reason to accomplish. He had a favorite goat, which was very tame, and, as the sequel shows, was very sensible also. In his dai ly walks to the village -tavern, he was always followed by the goat, 1 which generally entered the place a with its master. On one occasion I he thought to play a joke on the sensible beast, and gave it so much 1 ale that it became intoxicated.- t From that day, although it follow- a ed its master to the door, no per- < suasion could induce it to enter e again. It knew that within those doors it had been disgraced, and it s fdetermined to shun the spot for- s ever. The lesson was not lost upon r Paul Remington. He pondered it I thoughtfully in his heart. He was t an animal, a beast, without reason, I that refused to go into the place where it had once been made drunk; yet here he was, a thnking, reason ing being, going day after day into the tavern on purpose to get intoxi cater]. Ho could not but be struck by the superior wisdom of the f brute, and he resolved to emu late the goodwexample it had set him. From that timelhe set about - reforming, and became a sober and respectable man. Oh! t t e would, - like the wise goat, shun the spot where they were once made drunk Taverns and drinking places would cease from out the land, and man would be saved from degradation and de spair. SusEM Mn STzo.-Sleepless persons should court the sun. The very worst soporific is laudunum, and the very best, sunshine. There fore it is very plain that poor sleep ers should pass as many hours as possible in the sunshine, and as few as possible in the shade. Many women are martyrs, and yet thev do not know it. They shut the sunshine, out of their hearts, they wear veila, they carry parasols, they r do all possible to keep off the most r potent influences which is intended to give them strength and beauty and cheerfulness. Is it not time to s change all this, and so get color i and roses in otr pale cheeks, o strength in our weak backs, and s courage in our timid souls ? The women of America are pale and deli .i cate, but with the aid of sunlight u they may be blooming and strong. ui WORKED Too H.Um.-If woman could be free from hard labor until u she reaches the age of twenty, man- s kind would be the gainer. This is v a pbysiological matter, and the re- a suIt of our investigation of facts in t this connection, and our careful v consideration of the subject leads r us to express the_ hope that, if no L other subject connected with the y labor question is thought worthy r of legislation, this may be selected for legislative study and action.- n No argument is necessary to con- d vince people of the importance of I giving the years under sixteen in a d girl's life to the growth and de- a velopment of her organization, on a the healthy condition of which so s much depends-her own health and t usefulness, not only to herself, but t to those dependent upon her. d An editor in Illnois having en gaged a new reporter, received the following as his first effort: "We are informed that the gentleman 'I who stood on his head under a pile il driver, for the purpose of having a C tight pair of butes druv on, shortly d after found himself in Chiny, per- I fectly naked, and without a cent in s his pocket." 'l A party of young men went out s serenading a few nights since.- a T bey sat on the pavement which b had been recently paved with a I tair souin Next morning the t rear of six pair of pants dotted the a sidewalk, ar.d music is heard no 9 more around that cottage. Plain women wvear spectacles; Ii handsome women, eye-glasses. ir Things that must be pushed-- tl Wheel barrows-. In Milwankie they call Mile Cor-h onetti Redetti, "Matilder Reed" An Oshkosh judge got two bars of soap for a marriage fee. a - - - - - - - ~ Maraeimfe teedo a aroibleiste h end of man r ---+esbt hiend--- t Green-gares-LQoer' Vows,P .h ADVERTISINC RATESO -Ad *1b~~s 140 per square-one inch-forfirst inserlion, and 75c. for each subseqaent insertion. Double column advertisements ten per cent on above Notices of meetings, obituaries and tribute of respect, same rates per square as ordinary advertisements. Special notices in local coaum 29 -cents perline. Advertisements not marked wnt the num ber of insertions will be kept- in jM pwb~ 3nd charged accordingly. Special confteatstzade with IXard iver 'isers, with liberal dedncedons on aoankes. f/049 wrn Done with Neatness and Dispateb. Terms Cash. LOVE ON THE YELLOW STONE. O1)c of Gallatin's fair daughters, Vhile returning from Wonderland, It0l)PAW with her'companions'at -a ,ellow.-40e ranche. They bad %een there scarcely an hourwhen me of the proprietors gained- the ,ar of our heroine and ifre ier that hard by wds one of the inest, I;irgest, best and most sknn 'am raspberry patches be, ever aw, or heard tell of. UWhy, they on d jnst scoop them up,"? CU. He irged upon her the necessity of he berries beingr picked imimedi Itely, as thQy were dead ripei,-mil ions of them. She was delighted At the prospect of. going for-lthe erries, but when she scertained hat our hero was.bent; -on. Aatng s guide, then her ard6ir 'beeame lampened. However thb e start id. We bid adieu to Any. fuqher.de eription of this novel love scene, s now follows the converstaion jai vhicb a mountaineer Iwooed,-a for ner city belle, who m..two honurs ief ore he had *uever seen, showin~g he absurdity of the old 'fAint, keart" and "fair ladyr busitiess. "Say, do you see them. fenC68? "Wel0 h e fences is oura - :at have 1on~ since ceased to