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# ? TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM. J. god A-jntd otJH country. KftLTJME 5. SATUEDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 23, 1871. ?{ ALWAYS IN ADVAlfCK, -_-5- , uLULhOdX NUMBEft 32 THE ORANGEBCTRG NEWS -?:o:? PUBLTST7ED AT ORANGEB?RG Kvery Saturday Morning. BY TUB (0BAN6EBUR0 NEWS COMPANY TRUMS OP SUBSCRIPTION, 0ne Copy for on a Tear......... $2.00 ?? ?? |? Six Months. 1.00 Iny one sending TEN DOLLARS, Tor a 'Cl?h of New Subscriber*, will receive sn 'EXTRA COPY for ONE YEAR, freo of Jofcarge, Any ono sending FIVE DOLLARS, ^j4* ??v CB?iW of New Subscribers, will receive * ??sTTxf RA' COPY tor SIX MONTHS, free of **k?rg* ?!0t? "RATES OF ADVERTISING. 1 Square 1st Insertion. Si.60 " ?? 2d " . 1,00 A Square consists of 10 lines Brevier or one inch of Advertising spate. Administrator's Notices, .$5 00 Notices ef Dismissal of Guardians, Ad ministrators, Executors, Ac...$'.) 00 Contract Advertisements inserted upon the ?est, liberal tersas. > ?-:o:? MARRIAGE and FUNERAL NOTICES, H*?t exceeding one Square, inserted without efcarge. Mr Terms Cash in Advance, -?a ?an? j?ti _ . iL THE TOLLING KELL. A SAB HAT II MORNING TALE. HY AZA Ki.KLUS. m *Qr?N?d inniiy yuirs npn, in one rd* my ? *Summer ran.blcs. I found my??el ono beautiful Sabbath morning the guest of ;i worth.*." und intelligent family, in n t|ui?>t c<iiintty village. The curly breakfast was over; parents ^ tdtaptor in the7' bible ; Mr. Shelton. tin head tif* tin; family, had then offered up ? (brVcut prayer, tit t' e conclusion of which we all arose from our knees, when our Cars were greeted by the clear, deep prills riff the ringing church bells. ?Can it bo so late?' exclaimed Mrs. 1 Sbelton. looking at the cluck. 'Our tiine-piece must ba slow.' ?That's tint the Gist hull fi*T church.' answered her husband solemnly. -There has been u death in the villa-..?. The bell Ugnitig to toll fur Martin Lord.' 'Such, then, is his happy end," mnsed his wife. 'Well, it would ho wrong to mourn his death, fur I believe him vas ly butter, offj he" derived no comfort from earth. If death was ever a merciful providence, it is so in his case.' 'Is it a person who has been lung sick ?' TuskeU. Ins' ' of answering my ou'Stion di rectly, Mrs. Shelton, said : 'There is a very Hiclunchuly history connected with that young mau. It is quite sometime since the excitement occasioned by this strange tragedy died away; but the ,0j|l't"'?? of that bell this morning must hting it ^ack forcibly to every heart. Perhaps you /??y find lhe 8t0I7 w,,ich bring? about this tol,inS. interesting.' I expressed my dt*.1? tu li8ten lo ,,,e narration, upon which she ?"ve t,lc following dctuils of tho story, which I givo you with only a slight deviu-V00 Iroru the original: ?Maitin Load was once the flower nnd *? .? -. _. _ j ?*.....: *i*:pe v.* i..- - - t lies iu the village. His amiubld dispo sition and superior intellect procured for him universal lovo and esteem. Al though ol a slight figure, und pale fca ffirpf, wUiah iodiaatod a constitution by po means robust,Martin was remarked for his uncommon beauty aud indued, his fine, noble forehead, ?ba led by lock's of soft, brown hair, his larg?, expressive blue cycf, straight nose, thin Grecian nostrils, and rather voluptuous month, entitled him in some measure to that consideration. lie vm- a great favorite among the Ln)i*?.s, both old mid young; hut he never showed any marked pur. fiality to any one until he bcoamo ac quainted with Isabella Asbtoi), the daughter of our lato olorgyman, who died ot griof about u year ago. No two being* oould be moro diffcr pnt. Isabella was the youngest aud post thoughtless girl iu our village, ?he could littvc little sympathy with a parson of such deep feeling* and eleva ted intellect ns Martin ; nnd beoutif'ul as she was, it seemed strange that ho should have given his loviyto her. There is uu doubt but she was attached to him; perhaps she loved him as well us sho was capab'o of loVingf any one; but iu this instance, as in all others, her nficctions were secondary to her iovo of sarcasm and mischief. Marlin and Isa bella had been pointed out as lovers, by village gossips, for several months,? he was now nineteen, aud she was the same age?when the tragedy occurred, which the tolling of tho bell has recalled to my mind. It was on uu Autumn evening, uearly five, years since, that Isabella took ad vantage ot her father's absence, and hud a social gathering of young people at their house. Martin of course irus ono of the party of fuir youths aud maidens, who, being under no restraint from tho gravity of tho clergyman, who was not looked for homo until lute, the ouipany eujoyed themselves freoly wiih jests, songs, nod social games. The hour at which such parties usually broku up had already passed, and yot there aocinod to be lio relaxation iu the gnjety of the young people. During the fun now biuding them, some otic innocently intro duced the subject of ghosts, saying rc port had it that one had lately been seen taking ndvauthge of the solemnity ol midnight and tho stillness thereof, in the vicinity of tho church-yard, patroll ing nnd keeping guard over hid sleeping comrades. 'Nonsense, it is a silly report,' inter rupted Martin. 'Nobody believes that one has been scon there, and I doubt if there is h perron in this room who be lieves in the existence of such thing--.' 'Hush Martin, you do, yourself; you know you do ; n't he Ugh you arc ashamed to own it,' cried Isabella ; hut Martin only laughed. 'Come, now,' continued tho thoughtless girl, -I can very soon prove to i he company and to yoursel*', the fact th t you have some i 'ea of their existence. (in to the ehurch yard alone in the dark, and rh-.'u declare, if you can, you had no dr^ad, felt no lc.?r.' ?And a hat will that j.f .Ve V ?Why you will be frightened though you should seu nothing. Your fears would put your belief to the test. I low Could you be afraid it you did not I .-el there was something to be afraid of V '1 do ii t think your logic the best iu the world.' sail Martin laughingly. I 'Men are often troubled with fear when their reason telU them ihero is no cause lo fear. Hut I mil forced to deny your assertion that a journey to the church yard even at midnight would frighten mo?no, not in thu least.' 'llow very brave your language,' ex claimed Isabella, indulging iu her cus tomary mode of sarcasm. "Yes, indeed, you are tremendously brave now, and yet no longer than yesterday, your moth er told you Would not help kill a rab bit.' 'I never like to cause or witness pain,' replied Martin, much hurt by Isabella classifying bravery and tender feeling together. 'IIa I ha ! ha ! u nice way to get out of it, an excellent excuse, yet it can't s.Vc you, fof I urn resolved to put your brave ry to the test. You arc brave enough, to be sure, but tender hearted ; so thcti come, now win your laurels, you dare not go to thu churchyard this night alone. You are not hall* so courageous as you would have us believe. Wheth er you think there arc ghosts or not, you arc afraid of them.' Martiu was extremely sensitive; out t\\\, taccusm of nobody except Isbclla ..?,,1.1 h vc stuntr '?im ?.?-? t.? ?'?? Scoruing the ?:,oputatiou of cowardice he was ready aud Wli.Vog tlJ do any despe rate thing through tho iustruincntality of which he might pro?c ins courage. ?Hut,' said he, 'although I have no more four of churchyards and ghosts than 1 entertain of orchards and apple trees, i am nothing to walk half u mile merely to be lauglmd at/ 'Ilul lull a not lue pies; but you shall not escape,' laughed Isabella. ?Here, before these our friends, I prom ise that this ring shal1 bo yours,' sho continued, displaying ouo given her by her old lover, which Martin had to part with, 'provided you go to the churchyard alone, in the dark, and declare, on your honor, when you return, that you were not thu least afraid.' 'Agreed,' said Martin, buttoning his coat, for the night wan chill. 'And an au ovidence that you go the ontire distance, you can bring buck with you the iron pin which you wdl Gnd ut the OQtranoe mi the gate,' said Isabella. Thus driven by taunts to a commis sion of fully, Mania took leave of the company, full of courage and spirit, and set Out ou his eirund, i It was near a i-uaiter of a milo to the - -? i churchyard, which was uppronchcd by a lonely, dronry path, seldom traveled ex cept by mourners. It would bo impos sible to state precisely what happened to Martin ou that gloomy road. I judge from the circumstances which afterwards came to light, and conjecture, his adven tures must have beau as I am about to relate, f Slight ns he was in frame, nod tender in feeling, he wns not destitute of cour ago. I dare not think ho wuh frighten ed by the sighing of the wiud. or the rustling of dry ant um leaves as he trod along the avenue pointing to the 'city of the dead.' Ho marched firady to it, stopped a tuomcut, I have no doubt, to gase sadly but not feuringly. upon the white tombstones gleaming' faintly in the dark and dessolate ground, fur the stars shone brilliantly in tho clcur, cold sky above. All this must have drawn in his mind tho sweetest of solemnity. He f und the pin, und started back, but hud proceeded but n short distance, when, in the gloomiest part of tho road, he noticed a white Ggurc emerge from n clump of willows and making its steps towards him. It looked liken walking corpse in a winding sheet which which trailed upon the. ground. AH Martin's strength of nerve was gone in an instant. Courage gave way to desperation, his hair stood erect, and his blood run chill, yet he stood his ground. The spectre drew nearer, seaming to grow whiter and birder as it approached nearer, seem ing to grow whiter and larger as it up pro ehed. We cannot tell what phren zy seised upon the brain of the unhappy youth at that moment. The guests tit the clergyman's house heard terrific screams. Dreading some tragic termination to the fane, llioy rushed to the spot, one of the number carrying a lantern. They found Martin leaning ou a pn strate form clutching convulsive!v its threat, while lib still uttered frantic shrieks for help. His wild features exhibited the very extrem ity id'terror. Only two of the must courageous young men dared approach him. Otic of them forced Martin relax his h dd on the throat ol the fig ure, whilst tho other tore away the folds of the sheet. At thit moment the hear er of the laut rti came up. Its light fell on the blood-stained, distorted fea tures of Isabella. Martin uttered one I more unearthly shriek, and Ml lifeless'! up-ni the corpse. He never spake again, but lived?an idiot. A frightful contusion on Isabella's temple bore evidence tlat in his phren 7.y he had struck the supposed specire with the iron pin. The blow was prob ably the cause of her death, although such a rrnsp as his hands must have given her thro it, might alone have de prived her of breath. He never kt.cw afterwards what he had done, for never again did one gleam of reason illumine the darkness of bin soul ; mid yesterday morn bis spirit was filially freed from its shackles of clay, and given life and light in a better world, which the toll ing ofthat bell declares 11. ist BojeUiuly. ******* That wns indeed n sad, sad tale, and to this day I remember with what feel ing it was told to me. I remained with* that family two days, and when 1 occa siouully muse over the wanderings of my early youth, it claims no small part in my reflections, for I remember 'twas .!,-.?. I '? -_e.su mo melancholy stoiy of Martin Lord and Isabella Asllion. [Sunilcr Aetr*.] How Parson Blake Subtltied Iiis Horse. {Well,' *aid llcubon, the story-toller, 'father OlWys wanted U horse, because the folks in Greene livo scattered, and ho has so far to goto attend funerals and wedding*, and visit schools von know ; but he never felt a* if ho could afford to buy one. Hut one day he wjs coining afoot from Hildreth und a stranger asked him to rido. Father said :' ?That's a handsome horse you are driving. I should like to own ?ut h a horse myself,' 'What'will you give me for him?' 'J)o you want to .sell V says father. 'Yes, I ilo, und I'll sell cheap too,' says ho. 'Oh, woll,' says father, 'it's no uuo talkin?, for I hureu't tho money to buy with.' 'Make mo au offer,' Buys he. 'Well, just to put nn end to the talk,' sajB father,'I Will give you seventy-five dollars 'for the horse.! J it it's i .?. .i; h.i . 'You may have Into,'says tho man, ns quiek, as a flas!:, 'but you'll repent of your bargain in a week;.' ?Why, what ails thc&orso ?' says fath er. 'Ails him ? lie's got old Nick in him, that's what uils^im,' says he, 'If he has a will to go, he'll go; but if he takes a notion to :-t<u>, all orcatiou can't start him. I've stooiJ aud beat that horse till the sweat rut?<off mo in streams. I've fired a gun off o*{gac to his curs; I've burnt shavings pundur him. I might have beat him to death aud roust ed him alive before hv'jjL budge an inch.' 'I'll take the horife,' says father. 'What's his name ?' 'George,' says the mau. 'I shall call him G^rge,' said fath er. 'Well, father broughg&bim home, nnd wo boys were mighty iteused, aud we fixed a place for him ?h the barn, and curried him down nnd fed him well, ami father said ' talk to him, boys, and let him know you feel frwudly.' So we coaxed nnd petted him, und thu next morning father harucsaftd hitu nod got into the wagon to g?. Hut George wouldn't stir a .stop. Fnjher got out aud patted him, and we bciya brought him apples and elovei tops^'uud once iu a while father would Mflk'Gut up Geor gia,' but he didn't strike a blow, 15y and-by he says : 'This fe going to take him. Well. Georgie, Wtfifwill see, which has got the must pat touch, you ur I.' So he sat iu tho wagon and took out tho sko'etons-' 'Skeh tons V said I'cp^et, inquiringly. 'Of sermons, you ktiom Ministers al ways carry round \m bo ik to put down things they thin of when they arc walking or riding, drat her say> he's planned out many a serittjL'U whet he was In.eiug in t e garden.' *I saw him \. r:ung^u%".rown si thg un it pntatoc hill, said Leti. 'Well, don't be interimpt i ig me or I skull never j.?t through. Father sat full ' two In tus before the horse was ready to j stint; but when ho did. there was no I more trouble for that d y. The next mollliug it was the same thing over again, only Geoigiu gnvu in a little soon : er. All the while it boomed as if father ' couldn't u<i enough for the horso. lie V US around the stable, feeding ami fuss ing over him, and talking to him i i his pleasant, gentle way (folks say lather can quiet old e.-.izy David Downing across the street, any time, by just spanking to him), and the third morning when he had fed, mid curried and har iiossed him with his own hands, there i was a ditftyent Jook iu the horse's eyes. But when lather w ;s ready to go. Georgie jiul his feet together and laid his ours back, aud wouldn't stir. Well, I Dove was playing about the yard, she [ brought her stool, and climb d up to the horse's head. Dove tell I'op what'you said to Georgia that morning.\ '1 gave him an awful talking to,' said the little girl. *l lold him it was per fectly 'udiculous for him to act so ; that he'd come to a real good j lace to live, where everybody helped everybody; that he was a minister's horse,aud ought to set n good example to nil other horses. That's what I told him. Then i kissed hitu on the nose.' 'And what di-t Georgia do?' ?Wl.y ?? '_; J.^j MUUi , gjVld, and when 1 got through he felt su 'shamed of himself heciiuldli't hold up his head; so he just dropped it, till it linst touched the ground, and he lookud as sheepish as if he had been stealing a hundred sheep.' 'Vcs,' said Reuben, 'aud when father told him to go ho was olF like a shot. Jle has uover made any trouble since, 'flint's the way fallier cured a balky horse. And that night, when lie was unharnessed, he rubbed his head against father's shoulder, ami told hi ill as plain as a horse could speak, that lie was sor ry. He's tried to make up with father ever siucc for the trouble he made him. We boys have great times catching him. when he is loose in the pasture. He's full of his tricks. He'll OOlllC galloping up, almost, within roach, and when we think wc are sure ot him, he'll wheel uud be off to (he other end of the pas ture. He'll tool with us that way half an hour, hut father has only to stand at t>- 'ars ami cull his name and he walks i< quiet as an old sheep. Why I've seen him buck himseif between thu shafts of (he wagou many a time, to save father trouble. Father wuuldu't take two hundred dollars for him to-dsy ; aud it doesn't cost much to kcop hitu, for he cats anything you give Hi til, Sis very often brings out some of her dinner to him.' 'He .likes to cat out of a plate.' said Dove ; 'it makes him think he's folks.' 'How much Did he Lose?' A New York gentleman at dinner on board a Cunard steamer laid a wager witii the Captain that he could not give him a correct answer, within a minute, to tho following questions: "A Yankee rushed into a bootmaker's store, in Broadway, "Here, look sharp!"' cried he, "just off for Culifcrnia?ship sales in half no hour?want a pair of boots? look alive!" Down tumbled tho boots off she shelves ; from which he was soon fitted. "How much '{" "Five doHara.'' "Ciive mo change for this fifty dollar bill?sharp?quick." Tho bootmaker, not having change, rushed to a money changer. "Quick, give change for this fifty dollnp bill?passenger just off to California!" and in a few minutes away ran the Yankee with his boots oud his ? hange?off to Colifornia, of course. In about an hour afterwards the money changer enmc down to tho boot-maker. "Hollo ! see,'" quoth he, "this is u bad bill ; pay me down fifty' dollors at once;" which tho poor fellow, much disgusted, had to do. Now how much did the bootmaker lose V '?Come, Captain, answer, quick ?no thinking r?bout. it. Kb. sir ? How much did be lose ?" ?'Why, one hundred dollars- of! course." There wus.a shout of laughter round the table, and cries of '-right," "wrong" in all directions ' Why. you forgot ' cried one, "that the boots were paid for." "What's that to do with it?"' said another: "didn't Sue Yankee carry them off and Wasn't It-.: b'll had '/" "OfcoiirSO it was." said his neighbor, 'the Captain's sight." 'Bit you a sovereign he's wrong." ??Done; what do you say it is?" "Why fifty dollars ami the boots. Am I right, sir?" Hut the New Yorker only laughed, and the chorus with him became louder. The question spread from table to table, light down, round the rti. and up the port side, "What did tho bootmaker lose?" until our ears were deafened with tho answers and bets. At length it reached a great big Bos ton man. who had set up among us a sort of oracle, for he wore long, straight black clothes of a clerical cut. and above his ;_;rey head and huge, flapping ears, a moustous shovel hat. Wo had nil ta ken him lor a superannuated bjshop. until his friends let out that be was bead of a great insurance office all his life, deep in all the misteries of policy and premium; so that verily it was thought assurance intleed, when a pert ensign sai I, "Now. I'll tell you what, old buyek bet you that you don't tell right off ? what did the bootmaker lose ?" "Sir," said the big man with much gravity, "I decline the bet, but shall be happy to answer your question if you put it." So he was fold and then the pert ensign again, "Now tell us quick, old boy?what did tho bootmaker lose?" ??What did he lose, sir? Why b" lost, uf cum so, uuy uoiiars on the cue hand, which ho returned to the moneychan ger, and the forty-five which he gave the rogue?he lost, sir. of course, ninety live dollars und the boots." Hut, alas ! for the bishop.looking brother, u ludi crous shout ofdcri'iou from some one who had found it out greeted his reply upon which he rose with a heavy frown ami went ou deck. Then rose the cry, "What did tho bootmaker lose?" from all parts of the table. "Fifty- five dol lars," cried a ventursoino guess, "Forty five." cried another, equally confident of his reasons. Hut the New Yorker smil ed and laughed withal, telling us to i. i; reasons for our answers. Tho very wai ters carried it into the pantry, bake house, and galleys, whence it. went to the Bceond-ehsfl passengers and the fore castle, until all round (he ship, in a cir cle from the red-hot fuuucl where mostly wc did congregate, was heard the famil iar cry?"wh it did the bootmaker lose ?" Header, how much was it, ami why! An Irishman direct from the sod had got into a muss ami was knocked down. "And be sftre you wouldu't be after batm' a man when he isdowu ?"said Bat. "Certainly not," said his antagonist. ? TVix, theu I'll just lay whern \ am." A Scared Duelist. On a curtain occasion since the begiu ning of 1871, the little town of Ouachi ta City, La., on the banka of the Oun chitu River, about twcnty?vc miles above the city in nlonrou, two gentiemen (Johnsou and Jones) concluded to play a game of "aeven-upi: at ?5. They took ihcir time, and intcT.*pcrsed the game with several drinks. '1 hey finally fin ished the game. Johnson, being wii - uer, raked in the money. Jones studied about it a while. He made up his mind thai it wus not rght for Juhnson to take the money, as they were neighbors?uot gamblers, anyway ?and were only in fun. lie fund : '?You arc not going to take that money nrc you ?" ??Yes, indeed, I am," said Johnson. ' Well," said Jones, "you had as well take it out of my pocket." "Now, Jones, take that back." "I shall not lake that back ; and if you arc not satisfied, help yourself in any way you choose." "Hut Jones, I insist that you take it back, because I don't steal, myself." "I shall not take it back; and I now lepeat that yon might as well have stolen that money out of my pocket. If you wish a difficulty, you can have it any way you like." '?Well, then, we will shoot it out," said Johnson. "Very well, sir " said Jones, "mention your lime and place." Without further ceremony, all the ar rangements were made for the duel to take place that evening. ' Many of the neighbors were there, and at onco con eluded to have the fight conic off. They knew Johnson, who proposed the thoot ing, would back out unless he could be encouraged. They knew on 'the other Land, that.Jones wculiLeJaud ?p witlioaV flinching. The seconds loaded the pis tols with blank cartridges, and informed Johnson of the fact, but did not let Jones into the secret. They did this to make Johnson stand, which, of ci ursc, made him fearless. He went to the ap pointed place, and .Jones was there, cool and calm. The moment for action ar rived, and all parties took their positions ?the distance being ten paces. The pistols were handed to Johnson and .(ones-, iu deathlike silence?every one being as serious as death. The count commenced : "One !" "St< p !" said Johnsen. "It is under stood by all parties that there ain't no bullets iu these pistols !" .Jones, healing this, and knowing nothing of it before, rather staggered forward, reeling, looked into the muzzle of his pistol, and cried out, "I'll b. hacged if there niu't bullets iu mine !" and at the sa ic time pulled dowu on Johuson. This was too much for Jobosoo. He broke for the nearest house, which was ahftut two hundred yards, and they say I he doubled up like u four bladed knife, aiul has lot been seen since, but son; word buck that all might "shoot it out" who choose, but he wanted none iu his. i Jones won the field against all odds. -?????_>--ai?i - A GOOD Joke.? A rich juke is told o"Tim Murphy, of Atlanta, now dead i ntiici! is too good to be lost. Tim was traveling on the West Point Head, on a train controlled by Conduc tor Moore and Engineer Buico. One eight, nb"ut swo o'clock, the train ran into a large embankment of dirt, usually called a slide, by railr ad men and mi ners, which completely upset everything to the injury of many passengers, inclu ding all ugCB, colors 'ind sizes. The conductor and engineer, neither being injured, was going the rounds to see the extent of the disaster. They found the passengers piled out in utter confusion, one badly suspended from a window by her crinoline, hollowing in a mournful voice for help, who was rescued. Next they came to Tim Murphy, who was going on at a mournful rate. "Well," says Conductor Moore,? ?how am you getting along." "Oh!" says Tim : "Scalded !" Upon exami nation, they found that the cooler, con taining ice water, had upset its contents upon Tim and so great wus his fr.ighjk, that he imagined that he WVi. baCJy scalded. A wag. observing ou, tho diau; Qf a house the e. viuc qf t\yo physicians., vc u)&rkc.d ih^it It put him in mind of a duvtJe barrelled gun; if one missed^ tlie other would be sure tu kill. **I Giie?8 Fm ih? ?an.w The praiseworthy fwhfcoe?rtti^ entira absence of self prido that charaefawises the houcat old farmer of Maine ia.ijlus trutcd by another honest former ojf, the* same State, who, desiring to purchase ft yoke of oxen, and being-informed that ?> certain wealthy farmer in OnmbSHaadu couuty had superior cattle fersadev 'Weft* dowu thither to purchase) Meeting ft man driviug an ox team, he inquired: "Can you iufortu me where Mr. Weafc lives ?" "There's a number of Weste living around here. Which one do you wish to find ?" returned the stranger, who was a stout built, keen-eyed man, habited iu homespun, but bearing iu general ap pearance unmistakable tokens of e&sa and comfort, so far as finances sre con ecroed. "I doti't know what his Christian name is," pursued our friend, 'but Be is the owner of some very fine oxen." "Well," responded the stranger, <4d?ey all own some pretty fair oxen." "Hut the one I wish to fiud baa oxen for sale." "As for that sir, I guess they'd any of 'cm sell if they could get their price." "Hut," exclaimed the Oxford county man, "tho Mr. West I wish to find is quite wealthy." '. "Yes? "Well, I reckon there oiu't#ny of them very bad off," replied the ether with n nnd. "Why Mr. Wes-t," continued oar friend, hesitating "has been represented to me as a very close-fisted man, and not seru pulously honest in- all his tratisneetrjm/* With a curious twinkle of the eye, and a gentlo pat on tho paunch of? hia ncaj ox. he said : "To tell the truth, sir, t guess thej area close-fidcd set nil around, aud I family, (ant there sxjmcthiug else "Yes," replied tho sea roller for oxen. desperately, "they say he has, been caught in tho net of robbing his own brother's chikcu coop."; The stranger bowed and smiled. "I goers. I'm the man. Come.'with mo, and I'll show you as fine a stock of cattle ns you can Gnd iu the State ; and if you know what oxon are, there is no danger of being cheated. Ufi "Staid."?Lately, when - the body of Geo. Kirk was lying at Wil son it Brown's midcrtukitig establish ment, on B. street, Virginia City, a maty who appeared to bo n stranger in the city, seeing! something of a crowd abuts the door, approached and looked in at the body lying in th< coffin. "Man dead ?" asked he of a person standing near. j uYe*, sir," nhortly answered he who was questioned. Fidgctting a littl?, the stranger tried l again : "How did he die?" "Uuug," was the laconic reply. ? "Hung! Ah, hung himself?" 'No; he was hung by the Vigilante*. ** Stranger again?"What did they hang him for ?" "He had been notified to Icavo tho town, ud he came back." When a man has boon notified t > leave, can't ho never coiuc back hero ncniin ?od ?-Yes, sir." "Yes? Then how ii this?" "Well, he caino back, aud"?pointing to the coffin?uyou sc he staul." There is a man out iu Wyoming who, did not want for woman's wit when forced to do woman's cork while his wife waa on the jury. He appealed to her to come home, but she wasn't in any pur lioular hurry, us "be would now fiud out how nice it was to stay at homo and mind the children, while she was loafing around the court house as he used to do." The man went home aud hired a good looking cook, and sent bin Wife word to bj sure and not coma homo until she wanted to ou his account, but as soon as the news reached her she Wit od im mediately, and is now one of the loudest op posers of female suffrage. IIBIBW? ? II country poet, after looking about over life, has come to the following rhyming conclusion: lCth, I wouldn't lire forever, I wouldn't if 1 could; but I needn't f? it about it,, fot I cotdaVt if I would.' !t An old ucgro wonmu, near, Ilichmoud,. Ya., is the veritable "oldest inhabitant.'* She says nho cooked for do mnn " ? ? m duggod 1c deems llivcr. <