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riii^^^^fr?*imi iiiinfffiiii it Ml'I III i iiiwmm^^mmii iMti^i^^^iiiiiiiiirti Ifwiiiii lrt'*i? III! miMl^i n^. TV KEFLEX OF POPULAR EVENTS. gcroted t0 flrogr^ss, the flights of ihq JSouth, and the giftusion of Useful Jtnottl^dge among all (Classes of tSBoijlung gfya. mitmE n J^______^L , GREENVILLE, loUTlt CAROIJNA,^HURSDM MOMING, JANUARY 5, 18C0. NUMBER 35. THE SOUTHERN ENTERPRISE la Isaaad Baarjr Thnrsdar Morning, by M'JUNKIN & BAILEY, PROPRIETORS. O. M. McJunkln John O. Bniloy. 91 a Year, in advanoe; $1 50. if delayed mmmrnm?mmm??a??? i ij ? Original FOB TUB SOUTHERN ENTERPRISE. An Extraet from an Unpublished Poem. BT LAURA OWIE. PART III. ll was uc Bunaei iiour. In pomp and grandeur drest, The Day-king rolled hie chariot Adown the gold-paved weat; And from the purple hill lopa Faded hie laet red ray, For his proud eye had measured out For Time another day. A little maid was singing Within a garden fair, And weaving flowery chnplcta To deck her auburn hair, And merrily I ah ! merrily 1 Adown the silvery tide Of Time's briirht stream, slic floated on. With young Love for her guide. Love, her pure spirit haunted, A? perfume rich and rareIIaunted the wreath of summer flowers That blossomed 'mid her hair. Love] Love, attuned to tnusio The happy heart she bore, And the song that trambled on her lip Was rich in itia sweet lore ; And his warm thoughts clothed iter features, With at soft and tender light As ? er inc juSBg moos ;nnwer?d llpon her |>rinceM Night. She sang of love?of rapturous love? From her heart her numbers rang. And her life's sweet J resin was bodied forth In the ditty tlint she sang. She sang of love?of raptures love, That brims life's cup of biffs? And her fair young face was flushed and lit With the light of happiness. O, sl?e sang of love! but it never same Into her sotig to say That hearts can change, or lovs grow cold, Or passion pass away. 8he dwelt in the sunny light of hope; From love tier young heart drew Its rainbow lints?as summer flowers Draw from the sun their hne. All things were beautiful to her? The earth, the air, the skies. Were robed in a newborn lovelinesa To her enchanted eyes. And life was beautiful to her, Rich was its promise morn, But, alas 1 alas! of its glories all, llow quickly it was shorn! Again: at the sunset hour, Within that garden fair, The mnideu walked amid the flowery With a wild and hopeless air. 8lie sang no low love-ditty, % 8he wove no fragrant wreath, Her eye waa bent u|?on the ground, And her cheek was pnle as death; And to and fro ehe flitted. And oft her white hnnds wrung. And moaned, as if her gentle heart With poignant grief was stung. Hie sunset's gorgeous glory, That filled the western sky, Its piles of gold?Its purple realms? Caught not her vacant eya Hie flowers that nodded o'er her path, And filled the lambent air With sweet perfume, site heeded not. For her heart was other where. Mournfully! ah, mournfully I From her white li|>s there came A trembling tone?a low, low moan? A sob, and then a name. Ilor dream was rudely broken? ihe vaie is Lruvi, bi.t old ? The heart sho would hnvo died to blesa Was false, and hard, and eold. One eve, elie stood amid the flowers, A promised bride?so blithe and gay, Another?and she mourned the hour That ear she saw the day. She lived?bnt, O ! the sweet love-dream That filled her heart, was dead. And from her lip the low love-word And tender smile was fled. She lived?the purple life-blood Conned again each amre vein, Bnt in her eyee the happy light Was never teen again. Old Sorrow dealeth strangely With these poor heerts of onrs r He maketh s?me as hard as stone, . And some as soft as flowers. Two corpses in the earth are laid, Oae In frail flowers fair, Rises again above the sod, To bless the balmy air ; The other?"neath its shroud's white fold, In Its dread mnoaiioo lone? . la slots ly changed to atone, Arfli ever there remains as hord and eold. Of this sort was the maiden'a heart? VI! 1- t I I . * ** limn m iro7.<m OUPI It held th? oorp?o ot Ito borj?d love, In flltRc? erermoro, ^nd (Mr* ??d mile* for h*r w<r? doa*. She Miik not 'ucalh th? bk?wf But her heart was never warmed again, More than tlie Alpine enow. Away?on muffled oare she went, Adown Time's dreary ware. And found, at leet, the goal the sought? A coffin and a grave. Greenville, 8. C., Dec. Slid, 185#. I ?I ? or 71SOUTBEHS EHTEBPSISI C&RHIEB. JANUAl-tY 1, I860. Oi.n Fifty-Nine hn? passed away? She shed no tears of woe. But all the time on Saturday, She showered down her snow. Oh 1 how much fun the hoys have had? The snow halls how they went; The young folks seemed rejoiced and glad? A merry time they spent. Oh 1 the Chrietmns times, the Jolly times The little folks have had ; The girls and boys have spent their dimes? The parents' hearts were glad. The candy shops were teeming o'er, With anxious hearts to bny ; And as they spent, they sighed for more? Who could their wants deny T The crackers in the streets would pop, The Roman candles fly ; The good old Marshal could not stop Tlieiraport?he did not try. And though n mighty fuss they had, Yct each one had his share; Oh 1 how it makes the heart feel glad, The Christmas time of year. Hie Carrier wants to have hit fan, lie it a little boy ; lie (loot not like to be oat-done, lie hat a heart for joy. Throughout the in ever* week, lie walks the village o'er ; lie does not play or pleasure seek, llis trials to eudure. His patrons look each Thursday, sure, They strain their eager eyes, To.eee the Cahbikr at their door, With Bout hern Enterprise. They want to learn the latest news, They grasp it with delight; With anxious hearts how they peruse, To see if all goes right. They see who's married?who has died? What property for sale? And after these, sesm satisfied To read some pleasing tain. But the CARtuaa Boy in coining On this glad, happy day. Would like, too, to l>e humming, " Now I have got my pay." He'd like to sing the gladsome song, " My pockets full of dimes," xi.. i- i l.i?j ?- -i j*mj imciiuo mc iirijll-M me |1uiu1 along, I care not for hard times. I have my debt* in stores to pay, As other people do ; My time it never thrown awny, My labor I pursue. I have to set up types all day, With constant straining eyes, 80 that w? may, without delay, Get out the Enterprise. No matter if the boss be it), The devil must be found. His long allotted task to fill, The paper to take round. The winter winds may howl and blow, All nature mny look drear, The ground be covered o'er with snow, The Cabhizs must appear. flte CsnniKa does not heed them all. If at the closing year He finds sultseribers great and small, Greet liitn with entiles sincere. His wants are many-*-urgent, too? Yet still be comes with cheer, To see his friends their duty do, W hen comes the bright, new year. Thin, rstrors., mill rotir purses out, And pay the l'rlnter Boy ; Give him a chance to cry and shout, And leap with perfect joy. Your conscience will approve tbe deed, Whatever you may do; Do bat your duty, I* hie creed, And he will honor you. If the Cairikr had sueh friend* A* the JUjor at the mill, llow well he'd meet the odd* and end*, And m outer every ill. But friend* ore searee like Major A., Are " few and far hotween 5" The Caoriu cod with candor *ay. Such men ere oeldom aeen. ?; { I've labored hard?I've labored well, F.aeh week through all the year To vl*tl where sulioerlbere dwell, To fill them up with oheer. Bo pay yonr dure, eubaeribere rffc 1 come with anxion* mind. To give nay patron* all a call, That Ikey a gift might find. If Hi* a dollar, I will not frown, Indeed, 'twill make mo laugh; 111 Iravere* every part of town. In hopeo to gat a half. I do deatre it, gentle friend*, V.im I Lav. A. ? ... *X~'- * f To each the Carrie* greeting send*, To here a little fun. lie has hit honeet debtt to pay? Word# plenty for the wise ; Then,do not tend the Boy away, Who brings your Enterprise. But giro bim something?you're the jujge How much the sum shall bo? Don't let him from your presence budge Till ho your kindness see. Then do yonr duly like n man, And feel your conscience clear; You will your course and conduct scan, With pleasure all the year. Kind patrons, may yon live in peace, May ail your comforts rise, May all your blessings still increase, Still read the Enterprise. And when new Sixty rolts away, And all your labors done, May you still live for many a Jay, As you liare now begun. May wealth increase?maj* frienJs abound, t May you luuoh pleasure share ; May you with choicest gifts abound, Throughout the coming year. , Miscellaneous Tvfaiing. 1 Go Back, Rose, You're too Little to Come. Tliere were three of us?Kate, Annette, and ' myself? and we were going into the old wood to 1 hunt strnw berries. Oh 1 it was such a delicious 1 day in June. The birds sang till the air was fairly vocal with their melody, and all the green ' trees nodded their heads in approbation. The very brook seemed to have caught the general inspiration, and danced along through the mead ' owe as if keeping time to a quickstep of the 1 fu'iiiC-B. Annette flnmmrrs and I had heen invited to 1 rw>n<t the half-holidav with our schoolmate, 1 Kate Harrington. Deacon Harrington's old-fashioned brown house fronted toward the south. ' Behind it stretched a broad, green meadow, and still farther back was a densely wooded acclivity, famous for flowers and berries in the geogra phy of every child in Kyefield, I used to love 1 to look at Dencon Harrington'* old brown home, even in those early day*, when I had not a tingle well-defined notion of arliatie taate In my curly head. I knew not that it combined to an eminent degree the element* of the picturesque. The low roof, which sloped backward nearly to the ground, was gray with moat. Ivy crept about the windows, nnd over the rustic porch had twined climbing roses, along with heavy clusters of trumpet creeper. There was a rude seat at the door-way, made of the little boughs of the white birch, twisted < together in fantastic fashion, nnd here grandmo* Iher Harrington was wont Co sit, with her gjej* woolen knitting work. Oh! what a treat we used to tkink it to spend a half holiday with Kate Harrington. " I wish I were you, Kate," exclaimed Annette, after we had spent half the long summer after .1 ! L..l> SI? 1 mull vuMiiig uumi Mira, nim irmiging a vegetable babyhouse, with hollyhocks for our ladies' parasols, and teapots manufactured out of veritable poppy pods. " I wieli I were you, and then I could be happy all day long, with nothing to trouble me." " You could, could you?" and Kate's cheeks flushed as she pnt away from them her heavy bands of black hair, "you think so, and that's all yon know about it I have a thousand tilings 1 to vex me. There's Roee, for instance. Mother expects me to be constantly taking care of her. and she's the greatest torment yon ever saw ? By the way, girls, let's start after those strawberries in tbe wood, now, she's out of right for a moment so she won't tease to go with na." We were just half way across the meadow, when we hoard a aweet voice, crying, "Please, sister Kate; Hose wants to go, too." I turned around, I rememlier, and thought how beautiful was the Mule creature coming towards us. Bhe was very unlike her sister Kale. Kate was a brunette, but tiie little white-robed figure, tripping aerosa the meadow, bad a pale, spiritual face, and long curls of golden hair falling to her tiny waist. There was a flush on her eheek, and a look of eager, beseeching interest in her large blue eyesi and she tbatehed her dimpled arms towards us and kept crying in iter earneetncea: M IMcaee, girla, wait for Rote.* A look of Taxation eroaacd Kate's face, and ah? called out in a tone of extreme irritability: " Go back, llos*, you're too little to couie!? Go liack I go baek ! Kate always had a way of being minded, and the little one pnt her Angers to her eyet, and al* lently turned toward the house. We harried on-in the direction of the wood, without giving a eingle glance baek ward. I think Kate'a conscience repronclied her tor selfish new, wndf ] know my own pleasure was spoiled for the afternoon. We found plenty of strawberries, red end ripe, among their beds of leaves. There were little blue-eyed ldeeseena, too, that kept reminding me of Rose, end I- wee not sorry when tl.? utMAl 1 4L 1 ?a ?- A Iiniuu, RIIU W V IMDfQ I to go horn*. W? had gone down the hill out of the wood. ] and crossed several roda of the meadow land, ' when Kate said, In a hoarse whisper?" See there, |lrK what ie that white thing by the brookf? Do yon aee It V We aaw it, and bnrried towards It. It waa Bote. At first we thought aha wea deed.-* Bcacely seemed the faintest breath to steal from her parted lips, and the pulsations of the Chert were so weak you could stersely feel them, fthe Wee in a kind of tranee-llks sleep. It was some < time before we succeeded ie waking her, and * then her limbs seemed chilled by the subtle ' dampness of meadow-land atmosphere. She could not elADd. How many times that after* noon (lie lit tie darling had begged ut to "make a chair " for her with our liande, and we had answered thai are couldn't stop. We made one now. She twined her dimpled hands about our necks, and held on very tight; but she didn't *p?ak, except once, and then she only said, "Ain't I most big enough, sister Kate?" Mrs. Harrington met us at tho door with a wild look of alarm. " Quod heavens, Kate!" she exclaimed, * what's the matter with Hose t" and taking her from our arms, site discovered that her clothes were al* most saturated with moisture. "Kate, ehild, why don't you speak ? lias Rose been in tlio water "No, ma'nm, but she went Into the meadow and got to sleep, and we found her there sleeping." *? Oh, there were anxious hearts iu Deacon liar riiigion's lirown house that night. Very tender ly was tho suffering tittle tto?e cradled 011 her mother'* brtiit, but not once did she speak coherently. Ilcr checks burned, and her eyes sparkled with fever; her dimpled arms were tossed above her head, and every little while be Lwccn her moans, tho would stretch out her hands towards some imaginary object, and say: " Dense, sister lvate, isn't Hose most big enough ?'* Three days passed, days of incessant watching and wenrincsa, and towards evening little ltoso opened her blue eye* after a restless slumber? she seemed much better, and the mother glanced hopelully up to the kind physician bending over her. " I cannot say that she Is belter, m.vlam. God knows I wish I could J but Ruse must die before midnight!" and the tears stood in glittering drops on tho good old man's cheeks. The mother's great grief was not noisy. She quietly lifted her darling front tho bed, and sat down with Iter !? bar arm*. Kate stood hv. nob bir-g ? <f already the brand of Cain wu upon ( her brow. { " Hesse, ma'am," said the little one, *1 length, | "am I big enough to go to Heaven!" " Yes, darling," was the tearful answer, " Jc- I sua loves children." , " And, ma'ma, do yoti s'posc hell forgive mo i for silting down In the mendow to watch lvntie, ( when you told me I musu't ever stay there I" " Yes, my pet, the good Saviour will forgive you for anything, if you are only sorry ; but I Rosic doesn't want to go to Heaven and leave ' mother: does she I" " I heard somebody say I mnst go when I was 1 asleep, mother; a beautiful lady, witii oh! each 1 white shiuing wings, and she stretched out her 1 arms to take me, but I didn't go, 1 awoke up ' just to kiss you and sister once more. Please ' kiss me, Katie. 'Ittlo Rose won't never be naugii- ' ty any more up in lleavan, and I'll grow big be- ' fore you come, Katie, so 1 can play with you up 1 there I" There Were tears, sighs, a funeral, and a little ' ci.um. mo ruM'Duu opencrt lit petal.* on th? bo- ' Hum of Jesus. Tlio little earth flower wu " big enongh for IleaTCD 1" 1 The War Woman's Creek. In Oeorgia and North Carolina there ia hard ly a river, creek or stream, that has not connected with it some old Indian tradition. The above title of the creek is taken from one of these tra dilioua. The creek is a tributary of Chaltuga river, and flows therein from Unburn county Go. The story, as told by the few Indians remaining since the removal of the tribe iu the year 1888,runs thus: Many years ago, in the first settlement of the J country, a wandering party of their tribe attack J ed the houso of n squatter somewhere upon their borders during his absence, and massacred all of his children and left his wife covered with the mangled bodies of her buteherd offspring, scalp- ; etl like them and apiwrently dead, hhe was not however wounded w badly as the Indiana had supposed. No sooner did alia hear lli? sound of , their retreating footstep*, than disengaging her , self from the l>*np of slain, hnggard, pale and , drenched with iter own and the blood of ber , children, ahc peered stealthily from the door, ( and finding her enemies no longer in sight, liasti ( ly extinguished the fire, which, before leaving | the Indiana had applied to herenbin ; but, which, had as yet made very little impression on the green log* of which it wae eotnpoaed. Wiping from h?r eyes the warm blond whieh wae still reciting upon iter scalped head ; she directed her agonized gase to the bleeding and disfigured forme of thote who scarce an hour before were playing at the door and gladeniag her maternal heart with their tncrry laughter, and as she felt in the full tense of her desolation the last ray of hope die within her hosora, there stole over h' r ghastly fnce an expression as aavage as was ever worn uy in* rtuincM ainyer* of hoy Innocent babe*. Q*r ?y* gleamed with tho tigrraa rob bed of it* young M cloning Iter enbin carefully behind her with* countenance animated by aome desperate purpose, ah* started oft in the enme path by which the murderora had departed.? flccdlea* of her wonnd# and wa*ting blond, and hiat to-all Mnaa of hunger and fatigue in the one absorbing and fell pnrpoae which actuate! her, aha pauaed not upon the trail of her foea until at night eh* earn* up with them encamped for the night at th? aid* of tit* ereek, which ta Indebted to her for it* prt**nt name. Emerging from the gloom of the tairfoundlngdariinew, on Iter handa and kueea alt* #Trpt nojaeleealy towar.l* the Are, the blatt of which a* it fliekered upward* dl* eorered to her the proatrat* form* of the In. dhuia, Are in numW, who, overeom# by an nttueuaily fatiguing day'a tmret, wer* wrapped In deep aleep with Utelr only weep*? - their tomahawk*?ia their bolts. II** own stealthily ad. i * [jMf- ! r* fcr ' " *r? vancing figure as the uncertain light of the burning pine'fell upon it with more or less disdisliuctuess, now exposing Its lineaments blotted with blood and distorted by an expression which her wrongs and the sight of the desolation of liar hearthstone, exaggerated to a degree almost fiendish and now shnding all anve two gleaming tpectra) eyes, wf* even more strking than the iwartliy faces which she glared upon. Assnring herself that they were fast asleep, she gently removed their tomahawks and dropped nil but one into the creek. With the remaining weapon in her hand, nnd cool resolution in her heart, she bent over the nearest enemy, nnd lifting the in(tfument to whleh her own nnd her children's blood still adhered, with one terrific and unerring blow, buried it deep in the temple of its jwner. The savage moved no more than partly M turn upon his side, gasping a little, quivering i minute like an aspen, nnd sunk hnck to his former position quite dead, smiling ghastly in bis rigid face. The desperate woman- left hint, ind noiselessly, as before, despatched all of the deepen but one, to that long rest from which >ntv ttiA lust Onm>wt ~o.. -1 T!. - J ? ? ant devoted victim however aroused to n consciousness of his situation by the death struggle* >f his companions, lie sprang to his feet and VIt for liis weapon ; it was gone. One gianoe -xplained everything to him. lie evaded the >low aimed at hiin by Iha brave and revengeful sromnn. Seizing from the fire a burning brand, le with it succeeded partially in warding off lie furious attack which-followed. In a little ime they fell struggling together; the Indian ireperaloly wounded and tlie woman fainting willi the *oss of blood and her extraordinary exirtlons. Both were too wenk to harm each jthcr further, and the wounded savage only avail :d himself of his remaining strength to crawl iway. In this piteous plight the poor woman remainid until near noon the following day, a lien she s*as accidentally discovered by a straggling party >f whites to whom she told net story and this lied. After burying her on the spot, they made soma ixcrtions to overtake llie lugiuve twlwu, but proved unsuccessful. He succeeded in reaching his tribe, and from ii* tale the little stream before mentioned was tver afterwards known among the Cherofeees, ind also by the whites, as tbo Was Woman's Dim. Forward CuimiRf.n.?No physician doubts that DrPfidUA rllilllpftn fiftw ?naoa una ? -? *?"*!* Lite worse foe tin* discipline they have undergone. Die mind seem* to hove hcen strained, and the foundation for the infinity ie laid. When the itudies of mature year* are stuftVd into the head jf a child, jK'o|>le do not reflect on the anatomiBnl fact, that the brain of an infant ie not the brain of a man; that the one ie confirmed, and can bear exertions, and the other ie growing, and requires repast; that to force the attention to ily>tract facte, to load the memory with chrono. logical and historical, or scientific detail, in short, to expect a child's brain lo'bear with impunity the exertion* of a mnu's. is a* irrational as It would be to hazArd the same sort of experiments on its muscles.?Quarterly Rev inc. A faitiifvl servsnt hath the same Interests, the same friends, the same enemies, with his maet'-r, whose cause and honor lie is, upon all occasions, bound to support and maintain. A good man botes, as God himself doth: he bales out the persons of men, hut their sins: not what Glod made them, but what they hare made them, lelves. We are neither to hate the men on ac:ount of the vices they practice, nor to love the vices for the sake of the men who practice them, lie who ohscrveth invariably this distinction, ful(illelh the perfect law of charity, and hath the love of God aud I.is neighbor abiding in him. [HiJiop Home. A woman?a married woman?who permits herself to find fault with her condition in life, snd allows herself to he chagrined or feel an emotion of envy toward those who are pecnuin* rily better situated than herself, lias already taken the first falsa atcp that may lead her on to ruin and disgrace, and will be the text of future remorse coupled with degradation. Envy ini) lir'lilf ffii hAif.l i?? !??n^ Wiimas* wtll -1? ?1 to ponder this, and let content make hnppy bomet Fob a Fit or 1)mi-om>kn< t.?Look on the good things which God iiaa given you in thia world, nnd to those wbieh lie L?s promised to hit Col lowers in the next. Ho who goes into his gnr* den to look for cobwebs nnd ?|d<}ers, no doubt will find them ; while lie who looks for n flower, may return into his house with one blooming in his bosom, A sick boy, dreadfully sick from chewing tobneeo, lay on a store bo*. Another boy syrnpn* tMzed wiih And cheer, d him, by snjing: " Grin and bear it, .Bill?we've ell got to come to it sometime. Toti'H Oet nv.r k l?v ?nil bv." "SriuRijMj of ?li(iTing," raid a pretty girl, to an obdurate obi bachelor, " I iliould think that a pair of handeonio eyea would be the beat, mirror to aliare by," " Yea} many a poor fellow baa been aliavcH by them," the wretch replied. As exchange any a there la a young woman "out in Arkancaw" eo modest that ahe had a young man Inriied out of door* fur aaylug the wind had ehifleu. " Ma, la the portrait of father torn f naked a little eherub of three lummere. " No efiHd? why do you aak I" Why, Ibie morning he eeid, darn my pietnre." Rtx Axn Mxacr.?Ho that hath teated the bitterneaa of aiit, will fear to commit it; autl he that hith felt the iwentncM of rm-rwy, a Ml fear to offend it.?CharnotJt. i3?mntisfl'fl (Dlio. Caught in His own Trap, Once, two minister* of the Gospel were converting on extemporaneous preaching. " Well," said the old divine, waxing warm? "you are mining yourself by writing your sermons nnd reading tliem off. Your congregation cannot become Interested in your preaching; nnd If you were called upon to preach unexpectedly, unless you could get hold of an old sermon, you would be completely confused." The young divine used all hi* eloquence, but in vain, to convince the old gentleman that the written sermon expressed his own ?Unn?i.?- ---* ? "? feelings, and, if called upon, ho could preach ex temporaneously. " Aa we aro of the same faith," said the young minister, "onppooc you try me next Sabbath morning. On ascending the pulpit, yon can hand me a text from any part of the Bible, and I will convince yon that I eon prsach withont having looked at the text before I stood up. Likewise, I must be allowed the same privilege with you, and Me who will make tho best of it" The idea seemed to delight the old gentleman, and it was Immediately agreed upon. The following Sabbath, on mounting the pul* pit, his senior brother handod bim a slip o( paper, on which was written : " And the ass opened bis mouth and spakefrom which he preached a glorious sermon, chaining the attention of his delighted hearers, and charming his old friend with his eloquence. In the afternoon, the young brother, who was s'.'t'ng below tbe pulpit, handed his slip. After rising and opening the Bible, the old man looked atdly around?" Am I not thine sss ?" Pausing a few minutes, he ran his fingers through his hair, starightened his collar, blew his nose, like the last trumpet, and read aloud, "Am 1 not thine ass?" Another pause, in which a dvadly silence I reigned. After reading a third time, " Am 1 not tiiinc aw"* he looked over the pulpit at his friend, and, in a doleful voice, said, *' I think I am, brother." Accepted Masons. At an inn in a town in the West of England, several persons were sitting round the fire in a large kitchen, through which there was a pas sage to other parte of the house, and among the company there was a traveling woman and tailor. In this inn there was a Lodge of Free and Accepted Masons helJ, and it being Lodge night, several of the members passed through the kitchen on their way to the Lodge apartmente. This introduced observations on the principles of Masonry, and the oceult signs by which Masons could he known to each other.? Tito woman said there was not so much mystery a* people imagined, for that she could show anybody the Mason's sign. " What," said the tailor, " that of the Free apd Accepted J" " Yes," she replied, "and I will wager yon a half-crown bowl of punch, to be confirmed by any of the members you please to nominate." " Why," said he, " a woman never was admitted | and how ia it possible you can procure it t" " No matter for that," added she; I will readily forfeit the wager I I do not establish tho fWcL" The company I urged tlio unfurluntilo tailor to accept the challenge, which he at last agreed to, and the bet waa deposited. The woman got up and took hold of the tailor by the collar, Buying, "Come follow me,** which he did, trembliog alive, fearing he waa to undergo some part of the diocip* lino in the inakiug of a Mason, of which he had heard a moat dreadful report She led him into (he street* and. poihting to the sign of the Lion and Lamb, asked him whose sign it was. He replied, " It is Mr. Lodcr's" (the name of tho innkeeper.) " Is he a Freemason 7** " Yes." "Then,'* -aid the woman, " I have shown you the sign of a Free and Accepted Mason.** The laugh waa so much ngninst poor snip, for having been taken in, that it was with some difficulty lie conld be prevailed on to partake of the punch. A Lr?roa Laar Wir?a.--?-One day a stody peasant was at work in the fields amidst florin and rain, and went home in lh? ev?nin<r .1 ? ?- '- ??? and drenched to the skin, Ilia loving wife said, " Alv dear, it has been raining ao hard that I could not fitch water, so I have not been able to make you any dinner. As you ore wet through' I ahnll be obliged to you to feteli me a couple of buckets of water; you cannot get any wetter." The argument wns s'riklng; lie therefore took the buckets and fetched nunc water from th? well, which Was at a considerable distance. On reselling his house, lie found his wife comfort*. My seated by the fire | there, lifting one bucket after the other, lie poured both over his kind and considerate par'.ner. " Now, wife," said he, "you arc quite aa wet aa I am, so you may as well teteh water for yourself, you can't get any wetter." 0*lt M.itno I.ota ?" Vat you makes dare I' hastily inquired a Dutchman of his daughter, who was being kiased very rlnmoroiialy, " Oh. not much, oalv emirtlnoa little dot's all father." M Oh, dal's all, ha T p)r tani, I thought you was fighting." "To*, von got," *nhi a temperance man fo a tippling friend, " what make*yet: drink sncli stulF a* you dof Why, the vcrj^hogs wouldn't tou?h lha'. brandy P " That'* Vau*e they is brutes," said Tom.?"I'oor creetersf tliey dunno w hoi's good." A rcsaoft passing a mnweited fellow, happ.-. ,-d to strike his foot with a cane, " Von had ttco knock my brains ont and Hni.-h me," said tho dandy, " 1 was trying to do it," wiv? the mna's rca ly re|dy.