The Anderson intelligencer. (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, December 23, 1875, Image 1

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MATES OF SUBSCRIPTION.-"?** DORLA? per ?nnrna. aid Olm Dollar for aix ??nth?, SnbMriptioM an not ? tekon .Jar. * !aos potted than six aaoBtba. - . .__ ! SSjoHxS^^'VOi^Oi? Doli?; Pf - ??narori oni?Sforth* totIiuertlta.?ndF?gr C?U por aquar? torso bafqwont lP^1,>n* W1?^ ihrM montha. No a4T*rtiwtoon* eountod I?ja ^borToontraot, Till bo ^7^^Uhi"dg to adttrtho for thro., ?ir or tvaljo Twtialnc by aontraot must bo wndBOd^to tt* ?n modiiUbuilnoM ofUio to* or tatttidial oofcliac *0&Lary Hollo* oxooodtog ^fe^ m?ttoi?Tf Udtrtdual intoroa^irfll bo charged Jar at ad'ertlsine ratea. AtiaouneaiMata oTmarriagta roapottfoUr aoltaitod, and *fll> faMcfcoVippU. LZQAL ADVERTmm.-Vft are ?oCZTlft require sash payments for ad**rtislag oY *; Bseeotora, A.dminbnniton **& other n?yTi~J and herewith append the rates .fer tho ot notloM, which will onlr be, iaaerted w^eVE? money comes with the oner: * ? * Citations, two insertion*, ?? ? rf '- - &c Estato Noilese, three InaerJaona, tL Final Settlement!, fire inaertiona ? 3A to corb,ESP0NDEJSJS.-=Ja otdar.to reeeiTO, attention; eommnnlcatloni mast be accompanied ^ by tho true aawy and addreae of the writs r. Re? jected manuscripU will not be returned, unless the noceesary stampf are furnished to repay the postage thereon.1^'" ?< &&? We aro not rosponilble for the Tiewi and oplnlona.of our oorrespondent*. All oomruunleatlons should be addreaced to "Ed? itor! In tolllgoncor," aud all checks, draft*, money orders, Ac,- shonld bo made parable to the order Of HOYT & CO., Anderson, 8. C. BOW TO Iii VE. Ho liveth Ions who liveth well! All other life la short and rain, He liveth longest who can tell Of hying moat for heavenly gain. long who liveth well! I is being fiung away ; iveth longest who can tell 'true things truly done each day; 'as'te'-not thy being;' back to Him*- - " Who freely gave it, freely giTe ; Else is that bemg but a dream? 2 'Tisjrat to be, arjd not to lire, ?i? /? L ? '' '? ? B*"wise and use thy wisdom well; ? - Who wisely speaks most liveit soo. HeIk the wisest who can tell. -VHow'-llret he lived, then spoke foe true. ? 3o'v?hat thon seemest; live thy creed; Hold no the earth'the torch divine; Be what thoa prajest to be made; - Let thegrcit Master's steps be thine. >.. j Fill hp each hour wish what will last; [ ?Buy up the moments as they go; The hft-abpv? "When thhris past, ~T? fEeripe fruit of life below. Sow truth, if thou the truth woulds't reap'; Who sows the false shall reap the vain Erec?.a?d'sound.thy conscience fcjep; . - * Froro^hollow words and deeds leftain. a ?SowTo^fflia^te^^-? "He that loveth plaasnre shall be a poor man."?Paov. 21,17. ?2tagjfi^ehZs, gSiiies,"^rts^eetintiea, the chase, tHelaole, wine, mirth,'softs ess," dress, effeminacy and books which only entertain are ordinary pleasures. - And f what are these bnt mefe"mtoriua*es*t6 ?fe solid pleasures of life, to She music of business. . All the pleasures of sense are meant to be sipped, as the first elegant -fragrance of flowers is followed by the <joat^)^^ertijgB^of tne^e^?T jj?de?[ which.it was extracted. .He that gorget pleasure r?'thar.than iasiei it, must swal? low the poison that -has. settled at the bottom of it. "U.jjm?e>i?Bn| is awayfioVn the muses??Ee patroheasSl "ofTearnimg. jUSu^^^d^iijji |f to students and 'learned men, who'unbend the bow only to recover its elasticity. The' worth of j the how is its use, not its dimie. Festiri? - 'iy. sings swoet songs i for -the weary and despondent, then wings her way to other hanqfy Those, who tarry in forsaken .halhi muit be content with tumid mirth and: coarseness. . 'All real pleasures are Qocl's gifts; angels ministrant cooing and going, holding to the lips of weary man the momentary drangt to encourage him to Work on. See how everything works, with brief intervals of playtime, as if j work were the main pleasure of exis 'tence. That warbler on his Lofty perch ! is not playing. He is singing notes of | consolation so his sad and silent mate. ' One is whistling up his comrades; for s. distant jaunt; Another is on the wateh * tower; not idly amusing himself, but re? porting to the feeding flock the distant flight of the winged forager. Another is diligently gathering winter supplies. All vegetable forms are now diligently hoarding and economizing their vital 'energies, picking;thehi?into seedsi clos? ing up their pores, drawing tight their garments of fibre around them to resist the power of frost. The bee now but tastes' his hoarded honey on a gala day. With the finest of sweetmeats in his pos? session, he is the best of workers, the - best of abstinent*. All things?the earth speeds/ -die sun move*, the star, that-soenrs t? stand still, like the scarcely t jn07:1'nS trai"n acr0i? the far distant plain, 'is flying "with the~speedof thetighten ing's flash. A'nd God wprks-^the won? derful, example to us all. "My Father worketh hitherto," said Jesus, "and work." Whst ao ineeative to ut to work wltVnlm^ ^ ' r?Y?W , "He that loYeth pleasure .?hall be a poor man" from the necessities of the case?the law of the world. Bread and meat will not flow out of their appointed channejsj. ' 5?or is^ there, found. here or, there !"a fire of coals with nahes laid thereon and bread?7 Pleasure seekers 'are' consuming ' their 'fortunes tor 'the want of higher and better entertainment; hot like the Jews, who gnawed potsherds during their seige for the want of better meat, bat because they lack the ,soul pluck and ambition of men to seek no? bler employment. They consider life a frolic, pleasure the business and work the momentary interlude. When they work they are looking for ?hances and hidden hoards in the earth. Even poor men with stinted earhingsjara consuming their fortunes on their loaded tables, by putting all they make into the kitchen stove. If even poor men affect a lordly indifference to waste about their homes; if they cannot condescend to dig a little tank to catch somewhat of the tiny rill of fortune that is running thro' their house, they must be content to lose a higher grade of happiness. There are hundreds of grumbling poor who could begin at once to grow richer and better in the good sense of the term, if they had the courage to put an interdict upon their pleasures. But the worst thing about making pleasure the business of life is that it makes the soul poor. It taps the moral circulation and draws off the true life of | the man. It weakens him down to an imbecile. It rusts off the cords which hold him to honor and immortality. Ko will be a poor man now, and he will be a poor man in that great age which is to come. Rise up, man, thou that rollest in thy hod while the morning sun is measuring time. "Do something; * Do it soon with all toy might; Ad angel's wieg would bang if long at re.it, And God himself iaictlre were no 1 ?Dger blast." Anderson, Deumber 15, 1875. ? Little Willie having hunted in all the corners for his shoes, at last appears to give them up, and climbing on a chair; betakes himself to a big book on a side table. Motrher says to bini: "What is darling doing with the book V "It ith thej dictionary; papa lookth in the dictionary! for things, and I'm looking in it to see lfy I can find my shoes;" ' 1 a A WELCOME WINDFALL. - ' 7a. a luxuriously-furnished drawing room whose wiudows faced Hyde park, odo lovely afternoon iu June, IS?, sat * liuly. whose age, judging from her appear anco, was about 23. She was alone,.but, by her restless movements and , varying espteafioh, it was evident that some; one vi as momentarily expected. Her face tsas a fair one, but bore upon it the uu n,isLaL-able impress of anxiety, which shaded features of no ordinary beauty. She was simply but eiegantly dressed in a pale mauve muslin : and cn her white finger glittered some rings of great value, in addition to the one plain circle which proclaimed her to be a wife. " She glanced with an anxious look from the window towards the park and sighed. ; "Not a sign of him. What can it be ?" 3?ben the paced up and down the room until a knock at the door arrested her, {,nd her maid entered, holding,in her j.rrcs.a fragile and perfect, dress of white tulle and costly lace, which had just ar? rived 'from Mmo. Elias, with an inquiry whethor Mrs. Vivian, would ? wear. i.tcthat ?vening, or. decide .upon another.'''Mrs. fVfoiaoj-for such, was the lady'a name? replied: "No, Forrest, you can put it * Forrest i^ireMt-bfecef- S?t%itB?nt sundry suppressed, comments .on the ex? traordinary 'decision of her young mis trees. Not to go out lifter ordering this lovely dress, and to the duchess' ball, too, ?MW^S^^E! xria^f^Ecus? ctoiiod/l)L dnjo ^Mrs. Vivian's dressing room, and deposited it carefully" on the sofa. "Maybe "she'll changejhfrmini^ when master comes in," sae*fflA*adiaagely, "so I won't pnt it in the wardrobe." ... . ? ..? At 7 o'clock a hahiiom dashed up to the door of the Viviana' house, and in a moment or two Mr. Vivian wa? with hie wife/ ? ? '?"' ? ; "Ohr my dahlias Charley, why are you so latet 1 .hikeJueen in despair about "I cooldn/t, help it, Alice : you don't know-how gltid ? \tim:to'-geu'back, even now." He ki^ed his wife fondly, and they sea tod themselves .together, whilst he prepared.to explaic the reason of hi? delay. "?' v \9 ??.? ?" ?' \ "I see it is bad, Charley. Don't be afraid to tell me," sho said eagerly. "It is .bad indeed, Alice; it could hardly he worse,; I have moved heaven aud earth to try to get some more mon? ey ; but unless a miracle happens, noth? ing can >ava us. Everything has gone down?down, down; and nnless a marvel? ous rise corner 'within the next week, I shall be utterty smashed." "We can but hope," murmured .Alice; "and if this crash comes we have each other." ? ?' !?, 4'My own Trife, mv brave,, hopeful, lov? ing wife," res^ondea Mr'. Vivian fervent? ly, '.'you are indeed a precious comfort. Yet' it is'principally on your account.. I dread it." "Don % think of me. I shall be happy wherever we are, and feel I caoTbear any thing rather than tbftt uncertainty ; it seems lika being on a precipice." V The two sat talking for some time, in tarn comforting each other on the sub? ject of some coming disaster, which it was evident they considered imposible to avert They had only been married six months; and;when Alice Annesley be? came the wife of the rich hanker, Charles Vivian, the world in guueml smiled on her nuptials, and considered her a most fortunate girl; for he was young, pros f>erous and handaome, and most truly in eve with.her, whilst she, entirely return? ing hit affection, thought little of the pe? cuniary i advantages of her marriage in comparison with the fact that her lot in the future was to be* linked .with that of one who so thoroughly possessed her heart. Miss Annesley was an prjDban, and up K> the time of. her inarm go had.' lived with a married sister some ten years her senior, a -lira. .Frederick At wood. Mr. At wood was !a city rhah of considerable wearth, and- it was through him that Alice had made her. husbands acquaint? ance^ ^Bk?-rn?x-weekVaftcrr--nr?eting for the first time, they were married. Little was knonrn of Mr. Vivisn's an? tecedents beyond the fact'that ho waaja distant relative of a vary old family of hia own name; that he posuessed no near relatives, but was eminently agreeable, belonged to a' first-rate club; was a gen? eral favorite with both sexes, and' was invariably, met in the.best circles, which was conclusive proof that there was noth? ing objectionable about him. fie had, not many years before meeting Alice, be? come a partner in a. banking bouse in the city; and, as from that time his wealth seemed to be constantly increas? ing, it was generai'y believed that hia business was a first-rate, one. And, in? deed, so it had beer,; and when he mar ried he could afford to install his, bride in .one of the nicest houses.in London, with every appliance of comfort and lux? ury. It was a wonderful marriage for Alice, who only possessed a small yearly income of ?100, which, however, her father's oldest friepd and family lawyer,' Mr. Upton..insisted should be safely set ti(5d npori herself, j This caution on the part of the lawyer was deemed by Mr. At wood 6o he- superfluous; but Mr. Up? ton -was ? r m,- and, in.spite of re monstran? ces from sven Alice herself, did his ut? most to make the bridegroom elect settle, a certain amount upon her in addition }" but here heTailed.ahd was obliged to be satisfied with 'having secured her own .money?a good deed for which no one t$asked him at the\?jne.-; r j' I ? ? ? Mr. Viviavi made his- wife magnificent presents; the Atwoods were most liberal; and friends seemed to-start up in every direction, eager to add their offerings to theiuture|Mn.I.yiv^an. bebrieX the mairinge' >6ok place, w'i.-iho ^afiDwent abroad; for ? a-'few'weeks,'- wtornrop to England first to pay a few country visits, aud then to take their part in in due time in one of the most brilliant seasons ever known in London. Mr, Vivian was rich, Mrs. Vivian was ? beauty, Was the rage. Every one called ; invitations were show? ered upon them ; and they both agreed in thinking a quiet evening now and then would he very welcome; it Was al? most impossible to achieve uuch a thing. But a shade seemed suddenly to envel? ope Mr. Vivian, and though his devotion to hia wife *??"? ovident,"still it was ap Earent that his marriage was changing im, for he 'was- nol ?be- same man.? Alice perceived the alteration, and first wondered,'then trembled, and then, charged him with it, nor desisted until she had gained his fulleat confidence; Inj the midst of their gayety and magnifi? cence she heard that her husband was on the verge of ruin. He told her all, on-; burdoned himself to her sympathizing; ears, and so relieved himself of half the anguish which concealment had entailed.; It was the old story ; speculations had failed,-wliicli as a partner, he shared in ; others hw "teen ventdfea -bn, vat were; equally nnfortunste, and it required but* one whisper against the bank to infUTej its ruin. To avert the possibility ofsUrf-j picion, Alice went out as usual and re? ceived visitors in her splendid home, with' a Broiling exterior, which covered, alas! a sinking heart; while he struggled to .fvert the; dreadful crash, return i ug home . qvery afternoon jaded, and wonjj only ? to have to brace himself up to accompany his wife to some gay scene, sadly in die cordance with their feelings, but a neces? sary effort to avoid suspicion. Mutters, thev vainly hoped, might yot bo arranged, and they would he able to auietly with draw frotn thoir- present position without the fiasco a sudden collapse would entail. They must fulfill their/engagementa, and wbrse still, allow a ball, for which Mrs. Vivian had, little, drei rrring ,/hal; J was immenent, issued inni merablc,' i;.iv; ta tioni. Poor Alice! . lifo,.wonder .that, ?her ,'iea :t sank when eke thought of. what might be in the future,or that she clmost ? reco i 1 ed from the lovely robe held pot for inspection by her maid, and which she had intended'for that particular ov ining. Her hnsbahd bad been most anxious to havo her go to the duchess. of-'s ball, a'ad When bn invitation lame, Alice, too, had been:highly delightud, and sent an acceptance, Tittle dreaming what 'an or 'deal ;it would prove. '', [?. Tired and miserably aixious. as ho was, , Mr,' Vivian decided that he must, go,. if ? only for -a short time. So they went. Whit a scene of splendor and magnifi | cence it was, that brilliant throng, with ! their gorgeous dresses) glittering did . monds, and their smiling, animated fa? ces : All seemed happiness and' radi 'anc i. Every'one was cordial, every .one was . kind. Alice was surrounded at onc-j; and during the i.hort time they remained, the : Vivians only saw each other at a die tan co. Alice's eves were constantly looking toward her husband, while his as .constantly sought hers. At last,.heartsick and weary, they departed, ; finding themselves rolling rapidly home? ward in' their own luxurious carriage. The next' day Bin. Atwood . ca ne to , speed the; day With' her''sister, .and hay? ing mnounced her wish to rem a j.. on til dinner time,. Alice found, herself alone with her after Mr. Vivian had set, off for the city. No sooner had the door closed on h is retreating figure than Mre. Atwood iwniiTsred.*' 1 .' ?'.'. ou're indeed a tajqkv girl, ,^-llce). Charley seemn. to grow daily more de vo? ted, and what ? ho ji o you have I" "Charley is everything to me," replied Mrs. - Vivian in a low: tone, at the same moment bending ot< r her ambroid- rv, to 'hide the quick ;fluali' that mounted;over her Air faoe at her a star's words, ' "J red says he is a perfect millior airo," , punned Mrs. At woo i. "Does he ?" *esponded Alice, faintly. "Suppose we change the-subject: Clara." "You are a curious being, Alice," ex? claimed Mrs. Atw?od'. "I don't think you kno w w h en y?? are well off; but I won't enlarge' upon your good fortune, .since you don't 1 ik 3 it -We want you and Ohtirley to spend August with us in Scotland.. Fred has eeoujod the shooting he. wrote,.about, an d he would rather have Charley with him than any one else. Do ypn.think you can promise to ebrnof''' '.""''' "I must ask Charley," answerd Alice. It ii very'kind of you, Clara, and you I know- how much we should both enjoy it."'' ' ' V v. ' "Tfteh I shall eonsider it settled," said j Mrs. Atwood. "I am sure you need a change, Alice. I.heard you were look ing shockingly pale last night, i and even Charley does not look jib if a gay life suited hint. How nice'be is/' she added,1 reflectively. "lara raall/ very fond of him ' myself." Then sh' e indulged in many self-congra iuiator'. remarks on having, been the ?promoter- of Alice's good, fortune, wuilst the latter quietly acquiesced, bearing the in meant shafts' which ' Mrs. ' A t wo od's ai lusioiis to her 'husband's prosperity inflicted as best she could. . Two nights afterward, the Vivians' house was the scene of:a splendid en? tertainment-rich and noble guests thronged the brilliantly lit drawing rooms, and amongst them.their &ir host? ess moved with a glow on hor cheek of almost unearthly radiance. .'. Never had she looked more lovely, but never had her heart been' so -.wrung as on that last evening in the house in which: her brief reign -was now over; for, before the first guest had arrived, Mr. Vivian had heard fatal tidings, and his wife knew that the worst had come. It did not look li re it. Those, u!agoificant apartments, the signs of wealth in every direction, surely did -not mean ruin, but the words rang in f Alice's' - ears. - As'' eaeb arrival' wsaV' a n - ; nouncod, she pictuned their, laces on the morrow when they should hear of the Vivians'i ruin. - ."Ruin" was written on the walls; "ruin?' rang out above the voices of the multitude; "ruin" seemed everywhere- jto. 90fftn$^P9P. Only on* mortal eye guessed oar secret?one hon? est heart felt for her, and that was good John j Upton; her.;lather's friend, who 'hail known hor from childhood, and had loved her as though she had bee. i his own .daughter. John Upton had always doubted, and he resolved to watch over the fate of one whose interests he always tried to guard. With a sad foreboding he; rejardod Alice and har husbat d al " ternatoly. But, .ominous afl . his fears wore, the reality, far surpassoi his-worst; suspicions. Alice had always, been ibad of Mr. ? Upton, but now she avoided his -kind i and pen et rat in 5 glance. 'She bad invited him frequently to ier house, and included ' him .'on this occasion more be? cause ilie. did not wish to omit him than /rnmAny.ideathaU^ She was surprised,to :,eo him; and if he had known now keenly hi* fatherly man? ner toward her touched the heart of the Unhapjpy girl,' he perhaps would 'have been less- gushing in his greeting. But at last the entertainment ended: "Tha llghu were fled, the are .-lands dead, And all the guosta departed.'' .Mr.' Vivian and his wife wer* alone now; arid in her ball clress-^such a mock? ery it seemed?she' sat beside him until another' June morniing shone ^proudly "Torth,J corroborating tlie ?ilaT particulars of the previous evening's information. They woro ruined, utterly and complete? ly i It was only a nine days' wonder, and then it was forgotten, except by those who had lost money by it, and who in consequence heaped the strongest cen? sure upon Charles Vivian. Fortune makes friends, ruin loses them; and when it became known that the Vivians were absolutely penniless, it was marvel? ous to note the change that came over their summer and sclf-conutituted friends. It is useless to describe the ordoals through which the unfortunate Vivians had to go, and painful to detail their departure from their luxurious home which they quitted, of course, immedi? ately. Mr. and Mrs. Atwood did come to soe them, but neither assistance nor oven temporary shelter was offered; and du? ring their visit the unhappy Alice had to< endure the most painful part of the trial, that of hearing her husband's conduct called In question, and terms applied to him in her presence to which no wife should be called upon to listen. Late one afternoon Mr. Vivian and his wife set out upon a dreary quest for lodg? ings. Very humble ones they would have to be, for their money was all lost. Only one little pittance could be relied oh, and that was the despised ?150 a year, which the wisdom and forethought of John Upton, had' secured against the Erobability of loss, for the daughter.of U friend, Miles A an eshv TO the north of London they went, and, after a fatigu? ing: : walk, for which Alice, especially, wait.Tittle, able, .they decided upon an abode, whose principal recommendation . cor sis ted .in its cheapness and cleanliness, in addition to the pleasant ways of the landlady. The-latter was evidently at-a lossi to imagine how people, of 'such np ppaient position, coula condescend'to so . humble a ;j dwelling. However), after giving Mr. Upton as their reference, they secured the rooms, and departed, promising to take possession the follow? ing day. Their few remaining things Here' easily packed up ;' ill' their super-1 fluides were left behind to be sold ; and 'ea),ly the next morning a wh conveyed .th'jm. from .the scene of their prosperity to the little lodging which, for a time at -least, they would nave to regard as their he mo. But if fortune had-frowned on them and friends had failed, the love 1 which in brightor days had been precious, in .no war diminished now; and the darker their prospects became the more devoted they seemed to become to each other. ' Bitterly did Charles Vivian blame him- i self, and bitterly did he repent the irre? vocable past; but he was a young man yet, apd dnstead of giving himself up to despair, he cheered by hi* wife, deter 'mined to do his utmost to procure em? ployment . of some kind, .and by every effort to achieve, if not the wealth he had J so madly.perilled and lost, at least an in dependence, which, for her Bake, he would think no labor too great or too hard, if he could in the end .attain - to it. But to want employment, and to get it, are two very different thing*, more especi? ally for a man who has been unfortunate in business; and this he soon discovered. ITo called on many Of;his old friends, but the interviews were cold and nnsatisfac-1 tory. Even those who had received sub? stantial assistance from him in his palmy day a now either ignored that fact of for got it; and after expressing some word a of conventional condolericji, and. regret that they had no influence, etc., ha would I take his departure, depressed and de- [ spending, but resolved, nevertheless, not to be quite dismayed. The At woods as- j eumed an attitude of righteous indigna- ] tion, and stood aloof.. Such a 'scandal? such monstrous behavior had never been equaled?but Alice had chosen hor lot) I so she must stick to it. Neither she nor Fred would-hare anything more to do f wi >h such a scamp, proclaimed Mrs. At wood, and, aa Alice -had indignantly re fused to listen to the' in?st tin measure d | abise of her husband, her natural out- | bu rat was immediately seized on by Mrs. Atwood as an excuse for withdrawing an acttuaintance.withiher unfortunate sister. Mr. and Mrs: Atwood left town shortly afterward for Scarborough, en route for the ir shooting lodge in Scotland, without J a word of farewell to the sister for whom, j in whose brighter days, they had pro- [ Tested so much affection. One friend -only remained to the Vivians, one honest, 'manly hand was held out to them in their I adversity, and that hand was John Up tor 's. John Upton, the hard, uncom? promising man of business, possessed, nevertheless', a warm heart, and though but few guessed it from his rough, exte? rior, still it. existed, and for no one did it beet more faith fully than for the child of his boyhood's friend. He had never I liked her marriage ; .the non-settlements { had aroused his suspicions ; and during | the few months, of hpr fancied prosperity he i>ad never.doubted that a crash would I come sooner or later.: ? I He resolved to wateh well Charles j Vivian's conduct now; and, from a hard? ly confessed dislike, Mr. Upton became slowly but surely convinced that his mis? fortunes had: proceeded more from the fence' of circumstances and an unprin cip ed partner, than from any other cause. Meanwhile, the . little money 1 Alice had got for her ornaments melted | rapidly away, and, on calculating their j :daily expenses, they were horrified to - find their little store would soon ba ended. How they were to exist until even the .time when the payment ?f I Ali:e's half-year's interns* was due,} nei .her knew ; but : that "something would turn up" neither doubted. Nothing did torn up; however, and when November came matters looked de? cidedly dreary for them. Mr. Upton had J done his beat to hear of some suitable employment for Charles Vivian, but had not yet succeeded; and so despairing was j the latter, that at length the former offer-I ed him a post as clerk in a very small office, belonging to Mr. Andrews, a quiet, I Sledding man of business, who was in- j uccd . after some persuasion from. Mr. Up:on to give the ei-deiwnt wealthy [ banker a trip.I. Bravely-and well: he bore hit altered 'fortunes, and thankfully did he accept the only employment which it seemed posrible for him to procure. The pay waa. sniall; atiU.it was a beginning, and anything was bettor, than nothing. He 1 made the beet of it to Alice, describing the case of his duties, , never alluding to I the different kinds-ofdrudgery he weatt 'through; hut she guessed it from hie pale I and worn face, but', whet could she' do ? I Alas I hex hands were filled now, for early in December, the birth of a child added to iheir expenses, and involved j Alice is an occupation for whiclf; in her j woak and unrecovered strength, She was. little able'. But the baby throve, in spite of its unproeperoua surroundings, and though its future caused them'anxiety, still the little "Alice Annealoy" became the sunbeam of their dingy home, and, as-months wore on, grew into a blue eyed, fair-haired little cherub, the image, as John Upton could have told them, of what her mother had been before her. A year passed i slowly away; it was theseaaon ones.more, hut how changed for the Vivians I Charles Vivian might be seen wending hia footsteps daily to Mr. Andrew's' office in shabby garments, returning toward evening to toe home that held hia earthly treasures?his wife and child. They had always a welcome which never failed to cheer his tired and aching heart. They had a little house of their own now, as with a baby, lodgings had been not only ten times more uncomfortable, but more expensive. It was but poorly furnished, even necessary articles for it had been as heavy item at the time to de? fray out of their straightsnod means. Often did Alice think of her rich sis? ter, who, though reveling in luxuries, and living so near, never by word or deed acknowledged her existence. Mrs. At? wood did not know what poverty rrisant; she had no conscience; therefore, the claims of her kindred did not trouble her; and if, by chance, anyone inquired after "poor Mrs. Vivian," ahe shook her head ominously, and decanted upon Al? ice's base ingratitude to herself and Mr. Atwood, which had precluded the pos- j sibility of further intercourse; aud'she I would throw out vague hints infinitely damaging; to the character of both her1 siaterand her brother-in-law, which were instantly disseminated far and near as authentic facts by thoae who heard them. Her heart was hard, for once she saw her Bister, saw Alice shabbily dressed and . looking thin an ill, whilst ishe, child of the same parents, leaned back in her luxurious- barouche- and passing the pale wayfarer, looked the other way 1 Shocked ana grieved, Alice reach od home after the recontre, feeling'more worn and ex? hausted than usual; her baby was fra'c tlqus and the day was over.pdweringly hot. When'the evening came, and. her husband's welcome figure stood in the, doorway, poor I lice; without rhyma'dr reason?so it seemed to him?threw her? self into his arms and relieved 'Her feel? ings with a .good cry.. He proved a very efficient comforter, and by tea time Alia;, was herself again.. 'After,, that cheering-meal was ended they went, out for,a quiet at roll, which was. the oho pleasure they, could have, for it cost noth? ing. What castle buildings went on du? ring these evenings walks, what pieces'of impossible good fortune they suggested as possibilities, what things they were to do if they ever got rich again, and how differently they would spend their lives ?poor souls I They cheered each other up with visions, of what certainly seemed highly improbable events, until some more: prosaic subject connected with im? mediate contingencies dispelled their bright beginnings. f Ley aaw little of Mr. Upton now; he had been very busy lately, and though Charles called occasionally, Alice was loo constantly with her baby 'to be able to -leave it much; sometimes he,, sent them fruit, gome or other little delica? cies, and on very rare and*, unexpected occasion he visited them.. He hau eees. a hard-working man all his life, and even, now, though he had passed the three score and ten years allotted .to him, did, not relax from his business habits. H< lived in a handsome house in Russell, square, solitary and with apparently no inter ;st in life beyond hit chambers in Lincoln's- Inn ; occasionally dined out; but there John Upton's gaieties ended. He Was wonderfully punctual in his hab? its, and on his not making his . usual ap Seart? nee one morning at 9 o'clock in the ining-room, where breakfast awaited him, his worthy old housekeeper became alarmed and proceeded to hie bed room, wher; she was horror-stricken to find her old master lying in his bed stone dead. , "Died from natural causes." was; the ver? dict at the inquest that followed ; and ;a few days afterward,- in presence of a few friends?Charles Vivian .among the num? ber, and Mr. Atwood, who "cut", him without any- hesitation?John Upton was. laid in his last resting place. Who was his heir ?. Nobody, knew: but it .was; supposed that: the principal Sart of his property was . willed away to iferent London charities?if a will. ex? isted.. Doubts and. surmises were speed iily.ended by Mr. Wentworth, the lawyer .who had now succeeded to Mr. Upton's business, requesting the return of those who had goue to the funeral to Russell equtre, to hear the last wishes'' of their departed friend. By a singular fatality, the same carriage that carried Mr. Viv? ian back to Russell sqaare also contained Frederick Atwood, who resolutely avoid? ed giving the other the faintest sign of recognition. The drive soon ended, and i very speedily the servants wore summoned to join the assembled gueata, to hear the contents of the will. Mr. Wentworth seated himself, and; with due- formality,, producing the docu? ment, proceeded -without preamble tdj .read the last will and testament of John Upton. Various Iegasies were left to his servants?in amount far beyond what they could have expected?s nd handsome sums to each of his executors, of whom four were named. After that, the., rent I of his property, real and personal, to ho bequeathed, without .reserve,, to tho j daughters of his deceased friend, ilil.ee Annealey?Clara Atwood and Alice Viv? ian, for their sole and separate use, free from the debts and engagements, of their husbands,' to be. invested?and here fol? lowed many business-like and careful details?after which came the signature, witnessed and dated, in due form, just j one month after the date of. Alice Viv? ian's marriage. Mr. Atwood's face was a study. Joy, impossible to be repressed, shone on every feature for a fow moments. "The amount?" he asked. ". "There U a codicil," replied Mr. Went? worth ominously;. and silence: being re? stored he proceeded to read . John Up? ton recalled the foregoing will as regar? ded the disposal of his property to the two daughters of his deceased friend, Miles Annesley,. and added a codicil, de? siring that the whole of his property, rwnl 'and personal, should be realized and invested, the legacies above only excepted, for the sole use and benefit of Alice Viv? ian, wife of .Charles Vivian, a change which the devisor wished it to be known had been decided on by him in: conse? quence of the unaistorly. conduct which Mrs. Atwood had displayed toward her sister, and which had come under the personal nottce'of himself, and whose pros? perity rendered any addition from him unnecessary. Then came his signature also witnessed?In due form. A dead silence followed, broken again by Mr. Wentworth, who approach!ng Charles Vivian, shook him warmly by the hand. "I must congratulate you, Mr. Vi visa, on so splendid a fortune coming i* your wife!" "Splendid , fortune I" echoed Charles. ^Considerably over ?200,0W," returned Mr. Wentworth. . It was enough aid too mush for Freder? ick. Atwood. j He'waited to hear no more, but rushed off without the ceremony of leave-taking, to tell hi*; wife what she had done for herself.'1' Of her' rage', .and fury it is,needless to speak?or of tue mu? tual recrimination thatnever'e'eased from .'that time forth between tho angry and disappointed, but justly punished pair. Better only to follow Mr. Vivian to the shabby little d weling, ? whither he lost not an instant in returning, and where Alice awaited him, little dreaming of the marvel? ous.tidings he was to. bring. He drove back, a circumstance . which surprised her; and as she watched him alight the extreme pallor of his face made her fan ; cy illness must have caused him to in? dulge in the unwonted luxury of a . han I "Alice, my wife, my darling,. our -trouble*are over 1. Mr. Upton has left his fortuue to you?at the least he has left you ?300,000!" Poor Alice had borne her reverses braroly, and when actual poverty had faced her, strengthened by her love for her husband, she hud never utterly given away; but now. to hoar of sueh a sudden, marvelous ana unexpected change in their prospects was too much for her, and to the infinite alarmand consternation of her husband, she fainted dead away. It was a happy waking for her, and of tho evening followed only those who have suf? fered reverses and recovered prosperity can imagine the happiness. By mutual consent, tho first years income was cheer? fully devoted to discharging with inter? est, the unpaid claims against Mr. Viv? ian, and at the end of that time ho stood once more a clear and independent man. If the money was in Alice's name, ii in no way detracted from their happiness? they were too truly devoted to each other to have any feelings on that score, and their days of adversity had not been in vain,: for they had made them feel any amount of pity and sympathy for others which proved a blessing to many. John Upton's money was not squan ,':?',? !'i U*? " ; ,:.7^3R?)r?n/7?^^r^' dered, in thankless extravagant entertain ments. The Viyiaqs.retired, to a Lovely STace in Kent, where they spend their ays now,'doing good with a lavish hand, and enjoying in happiness and modera? tion, the splendid fortune which had ad unexpectedly become theirs. Shortly after their accession to ft a son .was born, and in him'the name of their benefactor lives again, for they call him "John Up? ton Vivian.'' ....... ... . So, though no public charities were enriched by his death, and no newspaper record paraded the magnificent bequest* of the departed 'solicitor, one family ? was raised to nappinesa and comfort by his means,; ana through them many, and many a porerty-strickon home has been cheered and gladden/and many-a despon? ding-heart has; cause ? to -bless the thought that prompted John Upton's welcome windfall. ? The Trea?nry ISeport. WhaJ a shara, a fraud, the claim of economy on the part of the administra? tion ist Grant advocaiiea economy in public expenditures in his' message, and right-on its heels, right sJong with. it;, is an accompanying document, comes the report of the Secretary of the Treasury containing estimates for the coming fiscal year.: We will let the' figures tell their own story. Tax-payers are invited to study them: Estimate fur Appropriations Osjscta 1877 ' 187? tongreaa;.......* 6,958,475 10 . $ 5,083,419 80 Exec'vo prop'r 78,400 00 78,40Q 00 :Dep't of 8ute 1,601,095 00 1,682,085 00 TreaVv dep't .171, 193,267; 98 174,150,685 45 War dep't. 57,430,499 17 40,630,557 29 Navy dep't...... 22,792,426 40 13,577,545 90 Interior de'pt. 40,984,125 64 39,894,106 68 Poato'ce dep't. 39,962,714 19 8,930,667 OQ Dep't Justiee... 3,850,040' 00 3,887;54Sl 46 Dep't agricTra ' 351,566 89 249,120 00 Tota?l.. $314,612,608 48 $293,106,177 57 In other words, the administration asks from an embarrassecTpeople for the next! fiscal year, $21,446,431 more than was1 appropriated for the present year. The Secretary absolutely has the face to ask for Over four arid a half million more than he did in 1. last report. This is economy -with a vengeance. That .our readers, may see the difference between the estimates that the Republican party; has just furnished' and those' which the Democracy made in 1860, we preselrt a table that includes the two entire, al? though under different heads income in? stances: .:'?<,, i! -' " 1877. .1800. ?Congress...'..'.-.$ 6,958,475 Executive propur... 78,400 ; .. I Departm'nt of State ?? 1,801,095 , 1.146,143 Treasury aepartm't 171,1931907 J 3,177,314 War department... 57,430,499 16,472,203 Navy department.., 22,792,426 11,514,649 Interior. 40,594,125 4,091,923 Pofltoffice.;...:.!. 9,865;714 - ?Department justice 3,850,040 Dep't of agriculture 251,6*0 Civil axpenees. : .. - .6,077,608 Miscellaneous.... .' ( .20,70.8,253 Totals.!...$314,612-606 '$83,187;472! These pregnant figures include interest on the public debt in each of the years mentioned. They tell a story that no amount of words can soften. ? They show that the "increase of expenditures has 'quintupled the increase in population, and yet the Secretary of the Treasury de? mands from' us at the close of twelve Jeara of unprecedented waste, followed y two .yean of commercial distress, > an increase of taxes to'the extent of twelve bar cent Further comment on the econ? omy of Grantism is unnecessary. Th>. rapacity of the different departments is greater than ever before, and it is the duty, the absolute duty, of the new house; "to protect the people from such- reckless and bare-faced extravagance. The ds-j .^articents will*scatter all they can get, and there is no power to lighten the op? pressive burdens which ar; driving men to; the wall except the House of Representa? tives. The country looks ioit for hssvyj reductions in the estimates, and we-'hopui .for :iti sake and for the sake of 'G?nser va-; five rjle that'such anticipations will be1 ?'realized. ? ,i - Tho othor parts of tho report are not as. Interesting or as diacourofring as the esti? mates we have given.- The1 net recipts of, -the past-fiscal year were '$288;000;051; .not expenditures f274,623,292,' leaving, a .turplv:s re venu? of $13,S7(>,658, exclusive; .of previsions' for the sinking fund, i That ?fund will require this year i$32,298,691', but it is thought that tho surplus reve? nues of the year will fall short of that -amount* about three- and a quart H mil? lions. - The revenues of the coming fiscal year t,re estimated at-$30-1,000,000. - The: .rcducion of the -public dabt during the last fiscal year was $14,399;6l4i The balance of the report.'relates to whisky frauds, national banks, speedy re? sumption, government claims and other, -evil* of the times. Wo have no space for the Secretary's opinions and recommen? dations on thesa-subjects.? Chronicle and Sentinel. .- hit . ?I-'A?rrr?^?^- . i ' ? .' ? . ? S?rjKD ?DvTcfc?Whtle^he'ttUthOr of; this piece may be unknown, the advice' eertafnly corned from a good heart lind1 sound1 head:". * ,V ;. !lJ '\: ' Would you show yourself roaily good to your Daughters? Then bo generous to them in a truer sense than .that of heaping trinkets on I hair necks. Train them for independence first, arid then la bor to gi ve it to them. Let thorn, assoon aa ever, they are grown-' up, have- some! little money or means bf making m oney, to be their own, and teach thorn' hon to deal:with ft without needing every mo? ment somebody to beip th ;m. ? Calculate' -whatyou give them or will 'bequeath to them, not as ia usually done, on .the chances of their making a rich marriage, but on the probability of their remaining single, and according to the scale of liv? ing tg which you have accuatomedthem. Suppress, their luxury. nowhii. need be, but do not leave them with scarcely, bare necessaries hereafter, in striking contrast to their present home. Above all, help them to help themaelvetj Fit them to be able to.add to their ow a means, rather than to be forever pinching and, econo? mizing till their'minda am narrowed sad their hearts are sick. Give all the cul? ture you can to every povrer which they may possess. If they should marry after all, they will be the happier and the bet? ter for it. If they should remain among the million of unmarried; they will -bless you in yonn gravel and any of you what cannot be said of many a doting parent by hia surviving child: "My father cared that I should be happy after his death as well as while I was nis pet and hia toy."?Rural Sun. ' . --- ? Little words are the sweetest to hear;; little charities fly furthest, and . stay longest on the wing, little hearts tho fondest; and little farms the beat tilled. Little books arc the most read, and lit? tle songs the dearest loved. And when nature would make anything especially, rare .and beautiful, she makes it little pearls, little diamonds, little dew.' The Sermon on the Mount is little, bot the last dedication discourse was an hour. Aga's is a model prayer, yet it is but a little one, and the burden of the petition is but for little. Life is made up of lit? tles ; death ia what remains of them all. Day is made up of little beams and night is glorious with little stars. The Ct?.oCTira Tl?asant Vice?. . A strong[ argument of the Free Trade party, irr reply to the objection' of their opponents that a Revenue Tariff and aj i Proactive Tariff are equally necessary, and.amount substantiallj to the same re-; suit, is to point to the financial exhibit of | the'British Empire, where the 'entire! Customs Revenue of $100^000,000 is de 'rived ? from duties on six articles on I7. . . It pray in iS?2, under Sir Robert Peel,1 that Free Trade superseded the time-hon? ored protectionist dogmas. In the one tbO articles' were relieved" of doty, leav ing450 on the C&stom-House .list fciii.ee then, under Mr. Gladstone, .4441 out of the. '450. have "been, emancipated,. 'and lrom the d?iybn^h?se.remaining six,' the enormous sum mentioned above Is an? nually'collected. ? f , .The half-dozen article 1 which now con? tribute so largely to the customs' receipts in Eilgland, are foreign spirits, tobacco,, tea, wine; coffee,' ana fruits.' Ere-long, j no doubt, the Wo last will be struck ot' for the duty on coffee, yearly diminish - log, produces only $1,000,000 to the rev! ientte (the average consumption by every! man, woman; and' child in the1 United, Kingdom being 15j-oz.}-, an i the duty on currents, figs and raisinii, yielding only. $1,250,000 a.year. The duty on tea now! realties nearly.^ |17,r600,900. .Foreign', spirits, tobacco and wine vi eld the bal? ance-of $77,750,000 a year. ? Until the duty up0:1 tea is reduced, .Mr. ^right's idea of a ''free breakfaiiti table" cannot be realised.' Of course it '-la ?n ir^rsallv conceded that'tea, which; cbeeis,. but does not inebriate, is a wholly' - unob eetionable article of domestic con - sumption. This cannot .be.uaid of tobae-. co, spirits, wine, beer, and malt, the du-; ties upon which,' id the' Year ending ? Marc a 31,1875; contributed'the enormous,1 sum of $234,735,400, which is- cons idem-, bly more than one-half of .the,, whole vear'.i revenue of the British Islands, the, net amount of which 'viras $850,000,000.1 ! Th 5 finance account j'ast published in London gives ua the exact amount paid, on. etch article., The e aormo is sum i>f 337,6:11,035 was paid in one year on to "baccc?smoked, chewed1/ and ' anuffed. In tie same time the excise duties on ?home-made spirits produced $74,478,840. thect-stom duties on foreign and colonial' spiritt imported into the United King-, 'dorn in 1874 produced $28,594,785; the excise duty on'malt brought in 538,723, : 700,- the -custom -duties on -foreign and; .colonial wines imported ,was $8,592,720, and on beer import-id, $16,795, the du j. on licenses taken out by manufacturers and vendors df those articles Was $9,172!,?' 405. 'i - : ' Iqi ? ??? ??' '- -ill ,! ? Thiso amounts are immense. - We are cl o< ir g t h e th i r d qu arte r of |be. nineteenth. < century, and the fact boldly faces us that "itfohuof the f?rem?st 'hafl?ns" 'bf ?ivH-i ire Europe, which has an animated pop? ulation of 34,050,000, th? mere, fiscal; duty upon strong dunk and ..tobacco,! which certainly cannot be classed as net>\ catarlts of life, Was $234,735,440. This' was merely paid to the revenue of that State. ; it would be difficult and tedious to estimate the amount paid by the pur? chasers to the vendors of these articles? perhaps if is thrice as much an 'the duty ; this would make a gross sum of $704,206, 320 expended in the British Islands for drink and tobacco in one year. . There can hi no doubt that ji. Ihe United States, 'with i^much larger pc alation, the ex Knditura on this account'ls considerably !g?l'.-. ?????? ?'? .- 1 ?':??' '?' . Pkxopiu^.?"Wi}l yeu oat a philo pena with me?" said a young lady to me 'one day. k ''What is philopenar' I asked, ibr having recently come into .the country I bad niTor heard the word, before. I ? "You eathalf of this double almond, and I eat the otbor," said my friir infor? mant. "Then the one vrho calls"philo pena" to-morrow, or nex; time we meet, is entitled to a present, from, the oth? er." I ate the half of the'twin almond' she ? offered me, and the next day she was; the first tc call philorvna, and I had to make her a present, Hut I was puzzled to ac? count .for this custom, and I made many inquiries as'to Its meaning and origin. <bdt all. in vain, till the other day I found the following explanation: in :a French journal:, : ;' The people of Alsace and Lorraine %ere^brnVerly under German rule, as ithey 'now' are; but- while a part of Franc??: they lost, in- great measure, the use of the German language, and' what they retained' became corrupt' It was -ah bid' custom^ainohg 'them for young couples to; eupage theres?lves by eating .thehalves of double almonds, and then to, salute each. other, aa "well beloved" each time theymet. Hie word' in Ger? man was "viefliebchen r" but having for? gotten the meaning of ibis word they gradually:changed it into "philippo, .which sounds like. it, .and "philippina." ? This if now their formo'f salutation. H?re it is not restricted only to those' who are I betrothed ; but then young people here behnvo towards each, other in -many j [.re^p^'-^..a?.1they.l>irouW only be per-; mitted to. do in Europe if they were TBri'NEW" SfcsaiCEB.?-Here Is a'good pen photograph of the. i^w Speaker of I ing of the. two prom In er. t candidates?a tall, stately mail, more than six feet in height, ' bt?aL. arroiilderixl, with a head wall p }ised, a full growti-?f brow.-v hsir, andieies that seem, to:fead you through at a .glance. Ills achoiarship is of the highest order3; book's are bis dearest companions, and.hi* judgmept of men is keen .ind discriminating,- The man is whoUj practical. Tbera is no element of humor.or romance about him, and his manui rs are dignified almost to austerity. Ho is forty-seven^ vears old, and ?'served in the Thirty-ninth, Fortieth and Forty first .Cdigresses/'. Mr. Kerr is a man of high character. He was bom near Ti? tus-ill e, Crawfordville counr.v, Pennsyl? vania, March 15th, 1827, arid is' cor.sa fuently in the forty-ninth year of his age. [e w:s chiefly self-educated, although he ntu lied at several academies. For a time Ie tAught school.' Subsequently he studio! law in the' University of Louis? ville, and there received the degree of Bachelor of Laws. After a bri of residence in Kentucky, he settled at New Albany, I Indiana. Id 1856 he was elected for a term ! of tw'f years to the 8tatu Assembly. In 1862 10 was elected reparter to the Su? Sreme Court of the State, and published re volumes of report*. In 1864 he was elected a Representative':Vom Indiana to the Thirty-ninth Gbngrwof the Uniited States, and served during that Congress on.. the. Committees on Private Land Claims and on Accounts. He was re elected, and in the 'Fortieth Congress ; servecl on important committees.' ? "Sir," said a fierce lawyer} "do yon, op yoar so^mn oath,, swoar that this is not yqur hand .writing ?" "I reckon not;" was the cool reply; '"Does it resemble your writing V t'Yeei sir, I think it don!t.'\- "Do youBwearfebat it don't re Bembl e your writing ?". "Well, I do, old head.' "You take your solemn oath that this writing does no: resemble yours in a single letter?" 'T-e-9,8ir." "Now. how do you know ?" "Cos I can't write;" A Third Termer. The Indianapolis Sentinel says that Bishop Gilbert Haven, in a religions gathering at Boston of preachers and Sun day school workers, proposed an en? dorsement of Grant for a third tonn as a measure of national safety. This is a very queer movement, and that such a resolution' should, have passed unani? mously is..passing strange. Religious bodies,in times of national danger, nave often deemed it' necessary that they should hot meet without giving encour? agement and sympathy to the soldiers in the field, and to the cabinet at home, but that there is any sort of religious neces? sity for the re-election of Mr. Grant as President of the United States is so su? premely ridiculous that we can scarcely credit. tho reports .0/ the meeting.? Things liave come to a pretty pass if Mr. Grant has become a religious necessity, or his" political supremacy longer to be desired.: While the very air of the whole eountry smells of fraud and corruption; while the very . White House itself has been invaded by the bailiff of justice, add arrests are screened by the interven? tion of a.court martial, and while habits of personal infirmity are notorious, for a body of Christiana to go out of their way to declare that his further preferment is a necessity for the safety of the country is a satire-(Upon religion, and a scandal upon , the character of the virtuous and eminent statesmen of both parties of the country. Mr. Grant is not the only man -in a population of forty millions of peo? ple that ?m save onr liberties. Mr. Grant is a. tolerably good judge of horses, was a fair soldier, hut he has not proved in statesmanship that the' world was awaiting hia coming to rule in America in order that the millenium might be started. There were many resolutions that' might hare been more appropriate for' the religious meeting over which Bishop Haven . presided. They might have resolved that drunkenness is a great sin, that evil associations have ? demoral? ising effects, that stealing is . forbidden by positive commandment, that shielding iniquity is partaking in the offense, and dosens of otier things pertinent some , what to the public and private character' of a, niter. But. to pass by such legiti? mate the mo.';, sins of the day, sins in high- places, and simply say that Grant is a necessity, would appear a prostitution of -religious functions,. an intrusion of political sentiment averse to the moral instincts and religions sensibility of the people, - clothed m religions garb, that can but awaken disgust in three-fourths, if not nine-tenths, of the people, of the .whole, land.?Augusta Chronicle and Sen ws& - ' - ? ?? AU Sorts of Paragraphs. ?Consolation for 'old maids?"mis 1 fortunes never come singly." .:. ?r When the preacher quotes: "Be not wise,in your'own-conceit* he closes for many the Only door to wisdom. Tf ?<f1&y son," said a man of doubtful morals, putting his hand on the head of a young urchin, "I believe Satan, has Sit hold of you." "I believe so too," e urchin replied. ?; ? One of'the firm of a' Boston print? ing house received, last week, a letter which had been two years andsix months on the way from Beverly to Boston, a distance or eighteen miles. ' -'['} ' ?"^'Doctor, - said a nephew, on settling ?the.fee question for hia . uncle's illness, and from whose death he entertained great expectations. "I beg for the future you will not interfere in family matters." - ? Mrs. Haddock, wife of Judgo Had? dock, of Iowa, has been admitted to practice in the courts of that State. She is in demand as an advocate in her hus? band's court, and is reputed to be gener? ally successful. ? "Mrs, Henry," said John to his wife, the other morning, "if you give me a Christmas present this year, please ar? range it so that the bill won't come in till the next month, it's just as well to keep up the illusion for a short time." -, ?A .lonely man informed a friend that he-was going to advertise for a wife, and' should .prefer a poor girl. "Take the first one that responds to your ad? vertisement,'.' said the friend, "and you'll be pretty sore to have, a real poor one." *?' ? A noWe fellow that tramp was who returned a five dollar bill he said he had found in an old vest a Norwich gentle? man had given -him. His honesty was rewarded with a one dollar bill, and the next, day the ?veturned out to be a coun? terfeit. '' . '' ? y ' ? A husband finding a piece broken jout of his plate, and' another out of his saucer, petulantly exclaimed to hia wife: "My dear, it .seems to me that every thing belonging to you is broken I" "Well, yes," respondf? the'wife, "even you seem to be a tittle cracked V j ? The wife of.a bookworm one day ex? claimed-.to ber husband: "I wish I were a book, so I could always be in yorir society!" "Well; yes; my dear," said the old man, "that would be charm? ing,- if you should) happen to be an alma? nac^ so I could change you every year." , ? A man went into a botcher's, and finding the owner's wife in attendance, in the absence of her husband, thought he would hav; a joke at her expense, and said: "Madam, can you supply me with ? jard of pork,?" Yes. sir, said she, and theft turning'tti i'twy, she added: "James, gite that gentleman three pigs' feet.";...... ,,...?, : - . v r-r, A rsick man, slightly i convalescent, was asked by 'a pious friend, who his physician' wair He replied:' "Doctor Jones brought me through." ''No^-rre," said tiis friend: "God brought you out of your illness, not the doctor." "Well, may be Ha did;' but you can bet the doc? tor will Charge for it" ? Little Bessie is the five-year old daughter of a Portland lady who mar? ried a clergyman not long since. When her father was away, and she was i play? ing in the yard, a stranger came along and inquired if the minister was at home. "No," she replied, "but mother is in the house, and she will prav with you, you poor, miserable sinner." .? The sea mouse is one of the pret? tiest creatures that lives under water. It sparkles like a diamond and is radiant with all the colors of the rainbow, al thoughit lives in mud at the bottom of the ocean. It should not be called a mouse, for it is larger than a big rat It ie covered with scales that move up and -down as it breathes, and glitten like gold shining through a fleecy, down, from which fine, silky bristles wave, that con? stantly change from one brilliant tint to another so that, as Cuvier the great na? turalist, says, the plumage of the hum? ming bird is not more beautiful. ?? One gentleman observed.. to anoth? er : "I have a wife and six children in New York and I never saw one of them." "Were you ever blind V "Oh, no,"' re? plied the other. A further laps of time, and then the interrogator resumed the 6ubj?ct. , "Did I understand you to that you had a wife and six children liv? ing in New York, and you had sever seen One of them?" "Yes, such" is the fact" - Here followed a still longer pause in the conversation, when the interroga? tor fairly puzzled,said: "How can it be that you never saw one of them?" , "Why," was the answer, "one of them was born after I left"