i I 11^? y tfsHB THE TRIBUNE. c , _ p,s * *n : -'^ E } E-; >:< ft . * > : v ? * , ., VOL. II ?NO. 23. ' BEAUFOllT, S. (J., APRIL 2(5. 1870. $1.50 PER ANNUM. * I " . ? * * * Home Coming. When brothers leave the old hearthstone And go, caoh oue, a pep *rate way, Wo thiDk, as wo go oa alone Along our pathway, day by day, Of olden soenes and faces dear ; Of voices that we miss so mnob, , And memory brings the absent near, Until w6 almost feel the touch Of loving bands, and bear, once more, The dear old voices ringing out. As in the bappy time of yore, Ere life bad caught a share of donbt. If you should place against your ear Tho shell you plundered from the sea, Down in its hidden heart you'd hear A low aud tender melody", A murmur of the restless tide, A yearning, born of memory, And, though its longings be denied, The shell keepB singing of the eea. And sometimes when old memories throng, Like ghosts, the chambers of onr onni Wo feel the yearning, dee J) and strong, A longing we cannot cutrol, To lay onr cares and bnt-iness by To seek the old, familiar ways, And cross heme's threshold, and sit down With comrades of onr earlier days. For, though onr p it'is are sundered wide, Wo feel that we are brothers yet, And by-and-byo wc turn aside From hurrying care and worldly fret, And each one wanders back to meet His brother by the hearth of home ; I think the meeting iB more sweet Because so far and wide we roam. We cross the lengthening bridge of years, Meet outstretched hands and faces true ; The silent eloquence of tsars Speaks welcome that no words can do. But ah, the mootings hold regret! The sad, sad story, often told, Of hands that oars havo often met, Close f >lded under churchyard mold, Of eyis that smile into onr own, Closed ill the drnamlA?? *l*?n nt n~\ . A Rwoeter rent was never known Than theirs beneath the grave's white sod. A tender thought for them to-night, A tribute tear from memory ; Beneath their covering of white Sweet may their dreamless slumber he. Harry Hart's Experience. He was good looking. Diana know it. (Genteel. Diana knew that, too. She was both genteel and good looking herself. So when he came to see her, and made himself agreeable, she did not pretend that she hated him. Indeed, as the time went on, she made np her mind that a voyage down life's river in the same boat with Harry Hart would not be an unpleasant trip, and resolved to say "Yes " when he asked her to have him. He was so nice, thought Diana, one could do anything for him. One could be proud of him, too, the fine, tall, brown whiskered fellow who knew so much. So her eyes glistened when they saw him coming; her whole faoe softened when ho spoke to her; and her heart?ah 1 how soft that grew I Love makes one so tender, that it seems hard it will not stay with us forever. Iu this case the rosy god lingered a wliolo summer through. Mr. Caleb Bloom kuew this well enough; he also felt the influence of that "certain something" in Diana, which made her the sweetest of all \Vomen; bnt he was not good looking, and had not any power over the girl's heart. His pleasing task was to follow the couple about unseen, and envy Horry Hart from his vory houI. As for Harry, he prudently refrained from saying anything to commit himself; made love in such a way as might, be understood and not repeated; and finally resolving that, after ull, Diana was not rich enough for him, flitted away from Tulipgrove, undor pretense of a short visit to town, and vanished from Diana's vision. To say that she was not hurt would be to tell fibs. If she only could have had warning, she might have told him that she hated him, and had that reflection to comfort her; but it was too late now. . Harry had, meanwhile, disported himself iQ society, and felt that ho had esoaped the country girl's meshes just in time. His oonscienoe accused him of having ill-used her, and he pictured hnr , pining lor him, with her hair in disorder, aud 110 bright bows in it. He rather dreaded the morning papers lest he should read of her demise?even, perhaps, of her suicide; aud be wished that ht was possible for him not to mako mimself charm ng to every woman he et. .. . 1: "-If.Td been snob a fellow as Caleb oom, now," said Harry, looking into > s-. ny, glass, " why I might have'gone jogging on without anything-to reproach < myself with; bat we don't make ourselves. I can't help being handsome, any more than I can help the women knowing it." So he put Diana's photograph awav in his desk, and tried to forget her. It is hard, however, to forget some people. Her face flitted before him too often for his peace. The notes of her voioe returned to him like well remembered, music. Even when he courted Miss Guinoagold, tho heiress, he oompared her with Diana, who wonlfl have nothing for hor dowry. And when )iiss Gnineag >ld refused him with soorn, after smiling on him and enconraging bim for several long months, he thought of the girl who had waited, an he knew, i to hear him say, " I love yon," and who * * had nrvor heard it. * He hed not been in love with Miss Ghineagold however. So ha recovered from the blow of hot rejection easily, and went courting in another direction. This time Diana unconsciously avenged herself. His second flame was a widow 1 rolling in riches, and of a jealonH turn e of mind. She being an inmate of tho same hotel at Brighton, saw him from ? the corridor, one day, vigorously kissing 11 a photograph, which ho afterwardB hid in his desk. Being as unscrupulous as I a jealous woman al*ays is, she bribed the chambermaid to bring her the e picture. It was Diana's. Tho widow, c boiling with rage, at once cut her admirer dead. * It was Harry's hope to marry a rich a woman; but he felt confident that ho a might find a prettier and younger one; ? and so, nothing dismayed, bo set forth upon his search for a wife; wishing, with every new adventure, that Diana a had been rich, and bemoaning his hard ? fate that he could not afford to marry a " poor girl. . However, the rich ones were skittish, hnd other fancies, did not appreciate . Mr. Harry Hart; either gave him no op- J' punumsy 10 asK a * xes,' or said " JNo" " outright! and five years after he had c jilted Diana he found himself still a . baohelor, his estimation of his own . charms greatly lessened by his bad luck ? iu the matrimonial market, and the i small competence which hod been his own dwindling away to nothing. Still, Diana haunted him?a pale, D faded vision, with two hands clasped J1 over a broken heart?and still he kissed her picture, and believed himself to have adored her, and to be the victim of a cruel fate. 8 He had come to such a state of pe- v cunisry despair, however, that he was about to offer himself to the landlady of , his lodging house, who otherwise would soon have become troublesome in regard | to her little bill, when a rich old uncle, 7 dying without heirs, saved him from the ' I saciifice. He became the joyful pos- u sesjor of a fortune, and independent ( th-'nceforth of both landladies and heiresses. r For a while, Mr. Harry Hart reveled iu the knowledge of this fact, and satis- ? fled himself with food and drink and 1 much riding behind fast horses, in the most fashionable coats devisable by his ? tuilor; but, finally, even thiB palled; ro 7 mance asserted her sway. Diana begun 11 to haunt him once more; and at last he * came to the heroio resolution of going 8 at onoe to her native village, and ottering her his hand, his heart and his for- ? tune. That sho would accept him, he a had no doubt. How could he f Women r who loved once, loved forever, the poets . had deolared ; and if Diana hod not loved him he oertainly had tried to 7 make her. Therefore he packed up his most fascinating belongings, placed Diana's picture next his heart and started for Tu- a Hpgrove by next morning's early train. v He reached the the village at noon. I How familiar it looked ! Nothing seemed to have changed. The old elms nodded a weloome.? The old people sat in H their porches. The flowers in the gar- g den might have done the same. And ^ she?Diana?was she the same ? Alas 1 her beauty might have faded ; her ~ broken heart might be visible in her r eyes; she might be dead ! "Oh, no, cried Harry, as this last ^ thought entered his mind?"no; she . must live for me." As ho spoke he found himself approaching the church. It was a week 8 day, but it was full?or rather emptying j itself of its fullness as fast as possible. ? Something must have happened out ? i of the usual order of things to occasion u such an event. A wedding or a funeral only could fill Tnlipgrove church on a 11 week day. Suddenly a well remembered fuce flashed on him?Caleb Bloom's. 0 He was struggling out of the crowd, 11 I dressed in his Sunday best, and looking about him for something. Harry collar eu mm. , "Sir," cried Caleb?" Mr. Hart, I de- j L clore? How d'ye do?" "Thank you," said Harry, "I'mjn very well; but I waut to ask yon? ' c Diana ?" " Oh, she's there," said Caleb, point- 1 ing with his thumb, as Harry thought, r towards the churchyard. Harry staggered back. "Not dead!" he cried. "Dead I" cried Caleb. "Why,thank Heaven, no. Hero she is. Diana, here's Mr. Hart.'.' Mr. Hart turned his head. There stood Diana. Diana, as of old, only 6 very plump and rosy, and holding in * her arms a baby of some five weeks old, 1 in glorious white christening robes. ^ She nodded and smiled courteously upon J Harry, and smiled after another sort c upon Caleb. ' " It's our second, Mr. Hart," she f said, with matronly pride. Our first 1 was named Caleb. Yon'll ra? him a t moment coming with his grandma. This ' is Diana?his pa wonld have it so. A 1 boy and a girl wo have now. Wouldn't 1 {ou like to hold her a minute, Mr. Hart? 1 don't believe she'll cry. She's as good ] as gold." 1 But Mr. Hart declined the pleasure, t and returned to town by the next train. No Use In Going. ^ "I'm goiDg to atop attending our c ohuitoh," peevishly exclaimed a vinegar- x faced spinster, not a thousand miles 1 from Chicago, the other day. " Why, what has happened f" anxiously inquired a friend. " There ain't nothing hap- 1 pened, and that's just what's the mat t ter," oontinned the spinster through her i nose: " here I've been a regular attend- 1 ant for more'n two years, and thoro t hasn't been no gossip, no scandal, nor l nothing to talk about in all that time, I Cid I can't see the usa of going any nger I" And she squared herself down ] in the chair with the look of a martyr. I Fashion Notes. Tho newest princesse rolies lace at the >ack, the lacing being carried considirably below the waist. Satin d'Afrique, which is satin on one ide and repped groR grain on the other, s a rich fabric for spring bonnets. All costumes have an outside pocket, ri.tced rather low on the left side. Jasmine is a new shade of the univeral cream, and is yellower than the ream itself. Ribbon embroidery furnishes a novely in trimmings. Narrow China ribbons re gathered in the center and arranged oas to form buds, leaves, etc. Emiroidery silks of various kinds are skilully added in pretty designs. Crape is the only trimminc recorded s suitable for deep mourning. It anges in price from $1.25 to $8 and ;10 per yard. Laces, fringes and flowers are the askionable trimmings. A new gold pencil case has a monkey or a handle, which slips around the ube after the manner of the toys of hildren. For children, brown linen aprons, with odices worked in crewels in a sort of utter-cup design, are being introduced, lourning costumes follow, in modiled form, prevailing styles. Efforts have been made to introduce ew syles in veils, but ladies remain >artial to the small mask-veil, drawn ightly over the face. Thin materials for bonnet trimmings re gauze ribbons in contrasting colors, ueh as navy blue and cream, or cardinal ritli pale French gfay. A new cream-tinted cashmere lace, ?hicli glistens like hoar frost, i-i called 1 frost lace." White satin and white lace, worked rith very small white beads imitatiug me pearls, is a favorite style or ornaaeut for rich ball dresses. | Old lace is more worn than ever. , Irenadines are exceedingly popular for i looming. Black laoe fans are preferred by maried ladies and white lace ones by young j adits. Entire costumes for evening are now ; ften modeled after fashions which pre- j ailed in Revolutionary days, as, for i istance, the lengthened court train, rith satin petticoat, deep pointed coragc, and Lady Washington sleeves. The silks for trimming summer bon- j lets are soft brocades andbasket woven, 11 of one shade, with tiny flgnres in aised designs. Some of the new ribbons are so thick hat they have the appearance of being radded, and yet they are as flexible as atestrings. All stylish gloves are self stitched. Jet ornaments remain in favor, and i re always desirable, as they can be rorn with almost anything. Medallions and chains, in a great vari- i ty of styles, are popular. Dress buttons ore either largo or mall ; there are no medium sizes. The new fringes come very deep, iome of the most costly ones aro a com>ination of worsted and silks. All worsted fringes are likewise fashionable. ?his style of garniture ranges in price rom seventy-five cents to $8 and 810 I >er yard. Many of the new dresses open in tko j ack. Imported dresses are as scant in the ' k irts and as much tied back as ever. Stylish, long waisted basques show a j root number of seams and side forms ; | ne bodice sometimes numbering as aany as fifteen seaim. Shirring, eo much used last summer, ' h but seldom seen now. Handsome silk suits have brocaded ivordresses, aud the inexpensive sumi.er silks are in shaded stripes. In the new basque the front darts are j ery short, makiug the bust appear low. The standing English collar is worn ligher than ever before. Turned-down collars are broad behind j ud rounded in front, or else square ioruered in Byron shape. Now polonaises ure long habit garnents, nearly concealing the skirts beleath them. Cashmere is fashionable for everything but the deepest mourning. Making Love to Black Hawk. After the Black Hawk war and tho lettlement of affairs with the Indiaue, he chief and his eldest son, known as roung Black Hawk, visitod tho East and vere the recipients of many ovations, [n New York city the young Hawk bosame a,grcat favorite and of him tho Allowing incident is recorded. A ? ashing young lady, of tho " merchant >rinoe oircles," movod by some irresis;oble impulse, rushed forwurd and gave ihe young ohief a kins thai echoed to ihe oeiiing. "Ola me!" she then exrfaimed, in fright, "what haven't I lone I I've kissed an Injin!" Young flawk mistook this for a complimentary uldress, and, throwing himself into a praoefnl attitude, he replied as follows : ' Wakan waukeehoen muskekie ! Choc leremoneen jeokwassin.. Ne weenin jim miasin mittawinin powlangon? veepewen wigwaum?Otah mackawlan >entee mo pootah eaktike?Nogush neoh sinno beyah tango?Hey all wash on 1" The translation of it is this : " Fair little witoh !" handing her bis lead drees; " yon shall be my sweet quaw I" giving her his blanket. "You ihall go to the woods and hang on the LetUe," giving her his moccasins. "Yon hall sleep in my wigwam." and ilnally inbuckling his waist belt?"and tend ha papoose. Heyah ! she's gone!" " xee; at this last evidence of Indian prodigality, the young lady hastily disappeared. An Old Maid's Opinion. If it doesn't make me laugh, and 1 can't help it, to hear married people pity old maids, never thinking for one moment how au old maid might pity the married. Oh, no ! Poor soul, she hasn't any husband ! Poor dear, she hasn't any children! It's so very, very sad. Of course it is, poetically speaking, but don't you ever pity a woman for not marrying until yon are quite sure what sort of a man she hasn't married. I've known a broken engagement or two that really were subjects of congratulation. There isn't any other time when a woman feels so like feeling of her shoulder blades, to see whether the wings have sprouted, as when she has slipped the wrong man's ring off ner finger, aud feols that she'll never bear the brunt of his hatefnl temper, or put up with his neglect, or grow old before her time be cause of his unfaithfulness, when she stands free again and ready for the right man to come along. I suppose a woman nevor feels quite certain that the right mau won't come in all her life. However, wo'ro talkiug of old maids aud the people who pity them. It is all very well to get poetical over married lifo aud set single women down as miserable creatures, but like most theories, the "thing won't wash." If you get an adoring husband, ready to cherish and protect you while life lasts, j ou're certainly a happy woman ; but how many do ? One out of fifty, , perhaps. , It's a lottery with few lucky numbers, and even an old maid doesn't bitterly ' envy a woman with a mean or a quarrel- 1 ' some or neglectfnl husband?a woman j who is left alone with all her cires, a | woman who is a slave, not a wife?nor , even always all that falls to the lot of j the best loved wife on earth. There is peace and rest in life when j one is one's own mistress, at all events; j when I hear worn out, worried matrons pitying single women I often feel like laughing, it is so funny. The Good-Old Time. i In 1829 Caleb Atwater was sent to ar- i run go a treaty with the Indians at < Paririe du Chien, Wis. He took his i work to Washington, where it was acted upon by the Senate, approved, and Mr. i Atwater being off duty, attended the | first levee of Old Hickory, which oc curred Jaunarv 10. 1S30. at eicht o'clrw>1r p. m., iu the "round room." Here is i I he description of Mr. Atwater : "Gommodoro Rogers was there, dressed as plainly as any simple citizen, easy in his manner, and unassuming. The lieutenants and midshipmen mado all the display tbey could. In the same way the officers of the army appeared The secretary of war and his family ; were dressed in the neatest but plainest manner. The secretary's lady, whose person is symmetry itself, neither need- i ed nor wore anything but plain American calico for a dress, without a ruffle or a single ornament on her person. Her appearance bespoke a reliance on her native beauty and her accomplishments, nor was her reliance mispluced. No sooner had she taken her place, near the President's family, than all the beauty and fashion in the room gathered around her. The gentlemen wore all dressed alike, but our Western ladies unanimously dressed in plain American calico, without an ornament. The simplicity of their dress, their unaffected manners, their neatness, th?ir ease, grace, and dignity, carried all before I them like an electric shot. The diamonds sparkled in vain at that levee, and Western unadorned neatness, modesty, and Ixauty bore off the palm. Oar Western ladies had felt some uneasiness bt fore the levee about the result, but their friends assured them i correctly enough that republican simplicity would triumph over all crosses and diamonds." Hoes It Pay to be Boss I A young contractor in one of the large Springfield manufactories, in j company with his wife, a sad looking ' little woman in threadbare clothing, entered one of the town meat markets ; one reoent Saturday evening, and, after , gazing around for a moment, the man ordered a soup bone for Sunday. While it was being wrapped up, a j pruce looking young man, with a massive gold watch chain, attired in a suit cut in the lutest fashion and 860 overcoat, entered, \ and pompously ordered four pounds of sirloin steak utr twenty-five cents per I pound. The little woman looked wistfully at the tender, juicy steak as it was < being cut off, and then at the bone wliioh was to furnish her dinner the next day, ana, taming to nor iiusband, said : "George, why can't wo have as good meat as that man ; he works under yon at the shop?" "I know it, Jenny," replied the contractor, drawing himself up to his full height, " but he's only a poor beuoh workman and I'm boss, and it's worth something to boss, you know." "Y-e-s,"said the wife with a sigh, which said plainly that she would much | rather be a poor workman's wife and eat airlion steak than the wife of a i "boss" and live on soup. j ' Indians.?It is expeoted that representatives of fifty-three tribes of Noith ; American Indians, numbering three hundred persons, and comprising many : noted ohiefs and their families, all in picturesque dress, will encamp near the | Centennial exhibitjpn grounds, in wigI warns and lodges, and live, squaws, I papooses aud all, just as they do in the I far West. GARIBALDI AT HOME. How he Received a Party ot American Visitors who Called Upon lllm. Tlio Milwaukee Wisconsin prints a letter written by Mr. E. D. Holton, of that city, from Rome, in which he gives an interesting acoouut of a visit to Garibaldi. He says : Garibaldi lives out of the city, about two miles away. We thereforo took measures to inquire if he would favor our party, viz.: Mr. and Mrs. Smith and daughter, my wife and myself, with an interview. We received in duo time an autograph letter from the general himself setting down this day, at two p. m., when he would see us. Ao cordingly, wo took carriage, and drove to his plaee, beyond the Porte Pia via Casa lino. We came to his pretty villa, not far from the residence of the king. His house is a handsome two-story structnr.', of cream color, standing within a ( high wall inclosure, and in the midbt of a garden, with trees and flowers and conservatories around?a pleasant and suitable home for this distinguished servant of his couutry. A servant girl, 1 plain and simple, responds to our ring of : the boll, and at onoe, without the least ceremony, conducts us to the presence of that man who, rising from the com- I mon walks of life, and without any prestige of birth or friends, and stand- , rug upon the one, simple, democratic ( principle of the equality of men before the law, has, by the magnitude and the majesty of his brave deeds, filled the ! world with his fame, borne an important part in rendering his country illustrious among modern nations, and secured the j affections of mankind. The salon into ' which we came was a large plain room, with its windows to tne south. The day was bright and beautiful, and ' the sunlight filled the room. It was a room without ornament. Tables were , around, upcd which were books and ( maps. In the center of the room stood a large table, also oovered with books, . maps and papers, and in front of this table sat the eagle-eyed old man, front- ' ing us as we entered. We at once advanced, aud, without the least oeremony, ' introduced ourselves. He held out his * hand, all cramped and twisted with ' rheumatism, and received us sitting. He suffers dreadfully from this disorder, ' and can only get about at all upon his ' crutches. But though his body is drawn | and cramped so badly, the brightness of his eye is not dimmed, nor even the ] sweetness and intelligence of his face diminished, and he converses as cheerfully and freely with us as we could have wished. It so happened that no one oibo was present to see him but car- j selves at the time. There was standing by the side of the room, a little away, a young woman, and it occurred to William E. to inquire for his family, when 1 ho turned toward this lady, and said: ! "That is my wife." She stepped for- 1 ward, and we all shook hands. I asked for the children, when the sflhrant ; brought in a boy two or three years old, < the picturo of his father, and a girl six 1 or eight years old. I kissed the sweet boy, and* then undertook to kiss the girl, i but, with witching eyes and aots, she ] undertook to hide by her mother. But, j pursuing my opportunity, I seized her, | and paid her off with a smacking kiss, much to her father's and mother's , amusement, and not evidently to the | child's dislike. Here great baskets of , flowers were brought, and each guest was , furnished with a bouquet of rare and beautiful flowers?roses, violets, camellias. Our conversation ran much upon ' America. When asked what his feelings 1 were toward the United States, he re- | pliod : "I consider myself one of her citizens." He did not quite understand where Milwuukee was; so, calling for a largo sheet of paper, I took my pencil and drew an outline map, showing Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Now Orleans, and the Atlantio coast, the Mississippi and Ohio rivers, the lakes, and the river 8t. Lawrence, and notiDg Cincinnati, St. Louis, Chicago, and then j Milwaukee. Ho seemed to have his geography bronght back to him, and was ' interested to note our home so far away ' ielaud. Thus we chatted on. He speaks 1 English, but not very perfectly, but seemed to understand all we said to him. When I asked him if be would not come over to the Oentennial, he pointed to his crutehes standing against the wall. Did we stay half an hour or an hour ? I o.mnot say. Long enough to have the face and form of Garibaldi (as he sat beforo his table and his maps) and the surroundings, as well as his words, deeply engraven upon our minds. A Whisky Punch Changed the Weather. The widow O'Flaherty was rioh, and she was known far and wide for her benovolouce and deeds of charity. On a nnlit and afcormv evanintr in .Tannarv a Via 1 Hummoiied her servant man to her presence, and told him to load up the wheel- j barrow with wood and take it over to the widow Wilaby's shanty to keep herself ' and the three dear little children from ! freezing. " But," said she. "stop a bit and make me a glass of whisky punch beforo yon go." That being done, and * the punoh having been disposed of, the ( kind hearted widow countermanded the 1 order, remarking that the weather had ( moderated and changed so mnch that 1 there was no immediate danger of any ' one freezing that night. Moral.?Chan- 1 ty is sometimes like a weathercock, sub- 1 jeot to changes. < Other eities are preparing for the oel- , ebratio* of the centennial fourth of July. ( Norwich should do the same, says the i Bulletin. Let us have something ap- i propriate and practical which will please everybody. We do not refer to hanging a book agent, but to something that will be impressive as well as pleasurable. Lore Making. Tis a dear little hand, Half assisting My efforts to kiss it again, That at the last moment Whew! makes my ear tingle with pain. 'TOe a lovely bine eye, Half assenting When I ask for a kiss ere I go ; And ripe; ponting lips, Not dissenting, Tempt me on to a kiss and a blow. But that dear little hand. Loving, coaxes; Those velvety lips pout full of bliss ; ? And I soon find the blows Are bnt hoaxes? Little stings "to add sest to the kiss." An empty pocket is no sign for an ampty head. Hereafter wife beaters in California will be punished by a pnblio whipping. To be patient and. thorough in all that one does is to compel success in any calling. Why is a tugboat like a chiropodist f Because its business is to look after tows. What disagreeable person was it that ; i xl if. kA a saia tne national sane 01 America is ine spit-toon ? Sixteen centenarians died in Massachusetts last year, eleven of whom were born in Ireland. " You have lost your little hatohet," is the polite way of telling a man what be is, when he is one. If yon would pass for more than your ralue, say little. It is easier to look wise than to talk wise. When a young man cannot live on his salary, the usual way is for him to live on the salary of some one else. The Pennsylvania fienate has passed the bill forbidding the seiaure for debt of goods exhibited at the OentenniaL There is eoonomy in traveling on the rast mail trains. Yon make what yon sat go a great deal further in a given length of time. Says an editor: " Who drinks all the whisky made in the United States? is what staggers us." It is enough to stagjer anybody. New Orleans has reoeived 1,204,542 bales of cotton of the present crop, an increase of 320,818 bales over the receipts for the same time last year. < The Centennial Guards of New Orleans voted unanimously to visit the Centennial at Philadelphia, and appointed a committee of arrangements. The Forsyth (Ga.) Advertiser thus philosophizes: "The soil is the farmer's bank," says an agricultural writer. Oh, if more people would break that bank. A woman of Omaha, one hundred rears of awe. lias had her mv? nlnthnn :ra hand for fifteen yean, and has had bhem washed and ifoned onoe each year. " Meet me by gaslight alone," said a 5wain beneath the window of his lady love. " Now yon get out; I ain't no gas meeter," replied the gentle creature. First boy?" I say, Jimmy, there's no water. It's frozen, everywhere." Second boy ?" Bally I Maybe we won't have to wash ourselves till the middle of spring!" Lucern cannot be grown in profitable competition with clover, where clover may be grown in perfection. It is beet idapted for dry climates, where clover will not flourish. Breathes there a man with soul so dead. Who never to himself hath said, I will a family paper take, Both for my own and children's sake 7* If suoh there ba let him repent And have this paper to him sent. I desire, says an author, tc pat nettling into these papers which may mislead ?nothing foreign to the spirit of the boy who said be had no oopybook which, dying, he was sorry he had blotted. John Qnincv Adams made one entry in his diary which will be indorsed by every amateur Granger: "I males two * remarks?one, that theaelf-platfted tress thrive most vigorously; the other, that the plants which I most cherish arc the most apt to disappoint me and die." / Old lady (holding a very small e6bk.?\