{ title: 'The Herkimer Democrat and Little Falls gazette. (Herkimer, N.Y.) 1869-1876, June 16, 1869, Page 1, Image 1', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031101/1869-06-16/ed-1/seq-1/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031101/1869-06-16/ed-1/seq-1.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031101/1869-06-16/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031101/1869-06-16/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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P^?Sl.J&ffE3 ETEBr WEDSnSSBAr. - o , o . w z a ? ^ ^ ■ E 3 a s a M a ^ T E , EDITOB AIO) PEOPSIEIOP,. BAXES OE ABTEBW S IKB; s S S S s S I f ” .. s i w „ 150 ‘~ f i F I K e s , a t t o r n e y a n d c o e n s e l d o e a t d a w , E E R i a U B I l N-. F . ^ -CS” O ffice with H oh . E zra G raves . jeStf J. DRYDEN HENDERSON, ATTORSEY AND CODNSELLOR.AT LAW. O ffice itith S. & R. E ael , ____ AfaiJi Slreet, Herkima', p : o £ Z a 7 5 - 1 e E a ^ H ] , A ttorket cxkd C 0 HNSKLT. 0 E AT L aw , O m c D o x s , w x x ^ o o i x : , $ 2 : e o u n s e i i o v MOHAWK, K, Y. • S M I T H C O L U l ^ S . A T X O E N m ^ ^ ^ C O U N S E L M R S AT LAW Ife. m GENESElS STREET, UTIC a ! (two door? below T. O. Orannia & Co.’s Banfe.) ausZItf Wa S. HA L L , lj|0 e ii s e d A u c t io ! 2 ces%. ________ PAINEiS HOLLOW. n TT. Z D O - W O S r C. H - H O P K m s * K E W H A R D W A R E Sc G rR O U B R X S T O R E . SUGAES 12 to 14 cts. MOLASSES 60 to 80 cts. YOUKG HYSON TEA, good, $1. FL O U E & SALT. f a e m i n g u t e n s i l s . HAYING TOOLS. D A IE Y M EN S ' GOODS. CH E E S E BA N D A G E . 8 to 9 c ts/ .ANNATTO, $1,50. Also. Asont for the Celebrated AmeriGan H a y Tedder. jlfY GOODS are all N E W , bougbl call and examine my Stock. Goods freely shown, Main Street, Herkimer, N. Y. G, W . CONDE'S OLD STAND. SorWaicr May 20,1589, \ ________ ^C.H. HOPKINS. 3 S T E W M C E B Y S P B O M O I M E . rpH E undersigned have opened a Main Street, Herkimer, 8100 ^ 0 “ ^ ^ a new and well selected Family Provisions g s o o ' b ’ r i b s , Consisting of Sugars, Teas. Coffees. &c„ which they will soil a t the lowest prices. 8oiio*eF public patronage is respeotfally G I V E G S A C A L L . ^ SCHROTT & GIESY. Serlcimer, April 1850. apl23tf fE S T lH I TIGHT A&EHCl A T T H E American Express Office, M S e K O l E I S , IV. Y . First and Second Class Tickets I S a ^ o c k h lan d . s s a i . i City, Racine, KaIam.azoo. Salt Lake City. lioatsTiile, Sacramento, | s w o i i „ . . & n ; \ - B w S S , , Galena, W. p. MUNSON, winter icuri M x p r e s s O/Iicr^ ^ HEREIMBE. N. Y aeramento, pringfield. La Crosse, Sionx City Leavenworth, St. Paul, Madison, , S l Joseph, meh24tf J v e m i o E , I S T E W P R U l T ^ T r O R C i A L B A N Y S T .. H E R K I M E E. TBRS an’d < l u u BAKERY GOODS .—nting goods in <sallj. as my soo<is are fre Mtno times will aamih mayiatf freslianan, i v j c i fiE$EBiL L V M 6 E M E r o i Assets Over Twenty Million Dollars. /ETNA FIRE INSURANCE COMPANY OF HART^'ORD, c o n n . I scobfoexte ^ M I ^ ^ sh ^ sets , J an . lkt,ie^, . J. GOODNOW, Seo'y. L. J, HBNDEE.Pree. The be?t CoMnanieB of every class of Insnrance Ftoni FropOrtJi toorAAdreir. a aeylwtr DEMOCRAT ESTABUSfiED 1842.1 DIAZETTE ESTABLISHED 1863 ' A BIRD’S NEST. IJT PLOaENCE PEECT. m y shaded doorway 0 little hrown-winged Mrds Have chosen to fashion their dwelling. And ntter their loving words: he day they All tlje day* they are .going- and cominx On errands freqnenl and fleet. And warbling over and over, . “ Sweetest, sweet, sweet. 0 sweet!\ . changeful and shining. 1 like living g ems; And a ll day long they are Gathering straws and stems. Lint, and feathers, and grasses. And h a lf forgetting to eat, Their n< heripg st and feat! I h a lf for Tet never failing to warble, “ Sweetest, sweet, sweet, 0 sweet i” I scatter crumbs on the doorstep. And fling them some flossy threads; They fearlessly gather my bounty. And turn up their graceful heads, And chatter, and dance, and flutter. And scrape with their tiny feet, Telling me over and over, “ Sweetest, sweet, sweet. O sweet I” What if the sky is clouded ? What if the rain comes down? They are'all dressed to meet it, In water proof suxes of brown. They never mope or languish, 5Tor murmur at storm or heat, But say, whatever the weather, “ S w eetest,sweet,sweet, 0 sweet!” Always merry and busy. Dear little brown-winged birds ! Teach me the happy magic Hidden in those soft words. Which always, in shine or shadow. So lovingly you repeat. Over, and over, and over, setest. sweet, sweet, 0 sweet 1” o ? : ^ t h s 1 S l l . hv LUCY LAacoJI. There’s a face I mnst ever remembor. Though I may n o t behold it again Through the golden haze) o f September,. As the sea in its summer splendor; •And a smile that was clear and still As the sunrise over the hUl. There were steps that flew to meet me, . Crushing the moss and the fern; Blue eyes that brighten to greet me When others were cold and stern. Now the hill is barren and lonely. And the sea is moaning beyond; And the bleak winds answers only. To my heart’s cry wild and fond. Pale asters, with dewdrops laden. Do you weep for the blue-eyed maiden Who sleeps in the graveyard chill, - In the graveyard over the hill ? the sea wears thi No Ions The moss an( ^That never again can betold- But I only seem to outlive her! ho glory ay CO of f old, le fern heard a story boyoni iedits waves o ■reen;heights lie beyond the d.irk river: There her etep to my soul shall thrill, Coming over the hill. . TEE FOOTSTEP OH THE STAIES. b Y ebbs e . eexpoed .\ I have very many treasures. That m y heart has hid away; There’s a little curl that’s brighter Than the sunshine of the day; And a little shoe that’s faded. Is amon»my treasures there— And I listen when I see it, ■Tor afootstep on the stair. For the patter, patter, patter, Of a footstep on the stair. Now those little feot are silent, And the face is hidden low Underneath the meadow grasses. And the daisies’.fragrant snow; And I miss them in the morning. Pattering feet, and face so fair— But I listen most at bed-time, For the footstep on the stair, Tor the patter, natter, nailer. Of tho footsteps on the stair. Then she'd come and kneel hesido me ‘ In her little gown of white, And she’d say her short prayer over, And would kiss me sweet good-night, And I listen in the twilight. Though I know she is not there; But r cannot still my yearning, Bor the footsteps on the stair. For tho patter, patter, patter, Of the ibotsteps on the stair. SUGGESTION. The lad and lass were forced to part. They kissed and went a long: The sight went into tho poet’s heart. And it came out a song. ^^^ewest. And grew to, a picture 1 Tho mother murmured to her child, ■ And hushed it y e t a g ain; The Sound, as the musician smiled. Grew music in his brain. The dams ssel tamed, her hair to bind, nras in her zone; from out the sculptor’s mind, carved in stone. Tho song was said, the tune was played. The- girl in marhl o stood; The sunset in the picture stayed. And »U was sweet and good, xind God,\ who made these things to be. The damsel and tlio sun, , fcolor and sonjid, and you and me. Was pleased to see it d o A ; And aU tho angels would ho glad If. in the world He bnilt. xllthough there must be soma things sad. toy were spilt, xllthongh there rr • N o drop o f joy 1 But a ll the beauty in the earth. And skies, and hearts of men, Were gently gathered at its birth. And lovci and bora again. —M atthew B eowhe . A BBEMItm BBWiNE MAOHnSTB. Oho 9 l\tho kind that a m'^ix can Jove, That wears a ibawl and a soft kid glove, Has the merriest eye and the daintiest foot, lorts the molt eharming gaiter boot t bonnet with feathers, ribbons and loops. And An indefinite namher of hoops. One that can dance, and possibly flirt, And mako-a pudding as well as a shirt; One that can sing without dropping a stitoh. And ,play the Bousewifo, lady, or witch; Ready to give us the ^geat advice. And do up our collar* and things so nice. Wallkethe sort that can laugh and talk, Aad t*k« one’s arm for an evening walk; ■That w ill d o whatever t h e owner choose. W itbtlM > ^ h te« peroeptiW etumof the eerew*; S. WXLCOX. A g ent *Tis the oieveresfcthingHiatevsr was seen, . jloliw itrH /y, „j3:h» wtnleyfliUijnily Ito J ' t e f will yet be .well,” whispered Grace Ross, leaving her fast and kneeling new doctor for the first he did earn stock of ined du] H A V I N G P A T I E N C E . “ Don’t take on about it, darling! Don’t pray^^ Have patience, and all ” ” whispered G untouched F] fng at her husln t h a t sh e c o u ld la y h e r h a n d s upon his breast, and let her blue eyes look up appealingly in his. The Ross folks, as people in Elder- by called them, -were in sad straits. Some two years before,. with a little money.in hand, John Ross had come to settle with his young wife'in the pleasant country town, haying his calculations that he would practice as tl year—at lea that he coulc iy, and live decently year, while what little li would go to his remaining ca-sL., a n d a d d to w h a t he g a i n e d dur ing the second year, which he hoped would be something, if not considera ble, at least e n o u g h to e n a b l e them to what he called “rub along.” But John Eoss ’did not know the > prejudice of small towns, and he soon found that he was looked down upon with contempt by the old practitioner; not known hy those who considered themselves the gentry of the place, and viewed generally with suspicion by the poorer and middle-classes. He might have possessed the skill of the Royal College of Surgeons condensed into one man, but the people of Elder- by would still have shaken their heads at him. And knowing all this, Tomp kins, the old surgeon, used to chuckle and rub his hands, killing some and curing others, and year by year grow ing richer, telling himself that the new man would .soon grow tired and go, for after all said and done, it was a great piece of impudence to come and set up in Elderby without his leave. But tilings had f ng attentions j and many a night while h ^slept had her pillow been wet tears as she vainly tried ta fierce the cloud of gloom that seemed to close them in on every side. “ W hat a hear I am, darling,” he cried, “to mope and growl as I do, en vying, hating and maliciously regard ing my neighbors because they make nmney and I don’t. There, never mind 1 I’ll make old Tompkins want me for a partner yet.” An hour after he was making notes. aat he consldei blunders, and pointing- I, or great blunders, j what would have been ler the circurastance.s—-i lug upon it with any show of assump tio n , b u t p r o v i n g a l l h e sa id step b y lave. B ut tilings had gone very crookedly v;ith the Ross people, and in spite of every exertion John Ross found himself at the endJ <f and soi o two 3 some months penniless, a chance of bettering hu It seemed as if the people would have none.of him, and again and again he was for trying some other place. But after a long discussion his wife, and he always bore in mind the old pi erh of a rolling stone gathering moss, and knowing that-It would be lik e g o i n g th r o u g h th e i r tr o u b le s a- gaiu,, without money, they concluded that it would he better to fight on hopefully, keeping their poverty hid den as much as possible, and waiting patiently for better days. But though it was .easy enough to talk of keeping their poverty hiddim, that is no slight matter in a country town ; ‘and if John Ross and his wife could have known all, they would have found that the Elderby people generally knew the extent .of their wardrobes; how much to a shilling they owed baker and butcher; how that their landlord fully expected they would give him notice from quarter to quarter, and had promised the first offer of the house to some one else. In short, their afiairs were made to be so bad, that people used to shake their heads and wonder how folks could be so proud'and keep up appearances as them Rosses did, when they were al most starving, Lord bless you! John Eoss would never take any notice o f the small tattling of the peo ple, or he might have resented the met that Tompkins had spoken verv disparagingly of his ability. But h*e was too wise a man. He hoped that times would mend, and gave every spare minute to the study of his pro fession, working late every night, and merely taking such exercise as was absolutely necessary for his health. But it must not be imagined that no practice fell to his share, for the poor flocked to him in spite of the ill success that attended his efibrts in the first year of his coming. In fact, Tompkins mad.e great capital out of whom Mr. tey were seated at breakfast once more, when Mrs. Eoss spoke. “ Such bad news, dear.” “ W hat is ^ it ?” said her husband, not raising his eyes from the paper. “ You remember saying that the Westerns, with their wealth, did not know care,” “ Ah, y e s! one says plenty of bitter and stupid things when in trouble,” said John Ross. “ But what is it?” “ Jane tells me their little boy is dying.” ** N e v e r 1” e x c l a i m e d M r . R o s s , starting. “ W hat, that fine little fel low that looked heartiest of the hear ty?” . \ I fear so. Jane heard it from one of the nurses, who says the Westerns are almost heart-broken, and the poor woman sobbed herself as she spoke of it. It seems that they wanted to have more advice, but Mr. Tompkins said it was not necessary, and now it seems it is too late.” “ Poor little chap 1” exclaimed Mh —OSS, dropping his paper and gazing toward the cradle where his own child lay, by whose side Mrs. Eoss »was now kneeling, to assure herself of its safety. “ Poor little chap I” he 'muttered again, and then aloud, “God :end, when the young surgeon had told his wife that he was convinced that no human lid have saved the stricken liele wouldould talkalk power one. However, peop w t and shake their heads, and say what ;he young surgeon had lerformed several clever cures in grat is eases, that the poorer people favor ed him with their patronage, giving him much trouble, few thanks, and seldom any pay. “ Look at that,” said John Eoss one day, as two nurses passed the VYindow in charge of a preambulator fitted with an awning, and containing a fine loooking boy of some twelve months old—“look a t that,” he said bitterly. “ Why, I should think -what is spent upon that child in nurse and dress would be a comfortable income for us. I t is enough to make any man envious to see how unequally money is distributed. There are those i fight and struggle, the ofi’ I am. -W hat do they know of trouble? Grace, mi’ girl,’\ he cried passionately, “ 1 wish I had never married you, to drag you down to this poverty.” “ H ushI ob, hush” sobbed Mrs. Ross, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “ Have we hot been happy through it a ll, and have I ever seemed to mind ? Be patient, and times will brighten; but please—^please—don’t— ^ Mrs. Ross could say no more, for her sobs choked her utterance. H er husband’s w,ords h a d ' seemed to cut her to. the heart* for of late he had grown more bitter and le«t bopefuL Instead .of flying to bza books for com.- his course ■not dwell- (W of assui s a id ste p step from the experience of tho^e learned in the great science of medi- And in spite of her aching heart, and their poverty, Mrs, Boss’s eyes lighted up, and her thinly-eut nostril dilated with pride as, letting her need lework fall in her lap, she f ' the high, slig deep thought as wrapped in the ease before him, his whole being s.eemed to dilate, and he ?y performed some great cure. hold, Avith helplessness and expense attendant, and she sighed again, but only to check herself, and look anx- ously to see whether her husband had loticed her despondency. But John Boss was itoo busily . in tent upon his studies, toiling on eager- i_. xMj - n - J X. -.!-!x -X .— sturned weary and worn to renew his Two months had glided away, and their affairs were at such a low ebb that John Ross away utterly to alone. The would have.giver lespair, had he -beei with the destroyer, he threw off his coat, knelt dovm, and solftly lifted on^ blue lid, to gaze in the contracted pupil of the child’s eye, and to listen to itsts faintaint breaireath, ‘ i f b “ Cold Water—towels—^vinegar,” he then said, in quick, firm tones. “Now brandy» W h at have you there, ar rowroot ? Yes, good. Now the bran- dy—quick 1” Father and servants flew to execute his commands, and in a few seconds the tightly closed lip: the tightly closed lips were parted, only to slowly decline, and then be- and with difiicuity a little brandy and gin to flicker and tremble, as if wiiit- arrowroot were swallowed. Towels ’— ---------- \ -------- saturated with vinegar and water [d the little gold< an open book, the young surgeon plac ed the father at the. child’s head to keep up' a sharp agitation of the hair, and ran himself to throw open the window. ' Directly after he was hack, an watching the child with au earnesi ness hardly equaled by its .parents’, a tervals he spoke, after drawiui forgive me* Grace! .W h at blind fools we are! and I was envious of those people.” Father and mother w( over the cradle, when the r a t t l e o£ -wlxeelfi, a lioi^ rere bending i came the IS dragged upon the haiinches at the gate, and bell rung furiously, and as Mr. Ross hurriedly opened the door, the rich Mr, Western siezed him by both hands. before lie ^ u ld recover from his su! prise the surgeon was hurried hatless into a brougham, thrust in almost by the ex.cited parent, the horse was flog ged, and John Ross just had time to wave an adieu to his wif^ at the win dow before the carriage was turned. going at fur particulars fie could respecting the child’s illness J how the family at- through the village On their going at full gallop- ige toward the hall. Mr. Ross learned all and they were le vill r way Mr. Ross larticulars he could lild ’s i l l n e s s J how tb« tendant had treated it as of little mo ment, a n d the c h i l d h a d g r a d u a l ly sunk, till as he finished his account Mr. Western exclaimed, in a voice choked with emotion-— And now I fear ive Oh, that I had come las “ Calm yourself,” said Mr. Eoss. It-may be that I could do no more than your regular attendant. “ Don’t tell me, sir I” exclaimed the father, angrily. “ My child has l—sliamefiilly neglected. That man came to my house last night from some public dinner, and I feel sure now, though I did not detect it then, that he was ignorant of what he was doing. But quick, sir, follow me 1” In another minute John Ross was ire too late last night!” laid Mr. e e p i n g m o t h e r ’s k n e e s . Jb'or a lent the young, surgeon was almost unmanned*, when, looking at him as her last hope, the weepii * ----- i f to say, . hildl” : lere, glanciiig from irnlture in the hand- lid grim shade ■with the same \ Oh, save—oh, save my child 1’ , W e a lth was there, glanciiig froi rery' articlerticle o ff furnitureui i iratr room, but the cold Wealth was th< a o f r room, bo ■visits the palace s t e m j u s t i e e a s t h e l o w l y c o t t a g e s e e m ed to be there waiting for a few brief moments ere he claimed his. own. For a moment John Eoss thought he \ias too late, and his brow knit with disappobtment} but the next instant he drew a lo n g breath, and, - ^ ..... .^- m i t nerving hlm talf to the struggle i face, l a which ® at intervals o u t h i s w a t c h a n d r e f e r r in g to it fro m time to time. “ Look,” he .said, in short, peremp tory tones ; “ t h e eyes unclosing, the pupils dilate already, there is a little more pulsation— that sigh was strong- Fresh applications were made, and then another anxious interval ensued, during which the dark shadow of death seemed drous dawn of life—seemed to return ini the child’s face. ' “ Good, so far!” exclaimed Mr. Ross, while father and mother wat( ed him with an aspect almost approac ing to the veneration that must ha beamed in the face of the Shumiraite woman when the, “ Man of God” rais ed her child from the dead.. And truly this seemed almost a mirach the miracle of science given by the Great Creator to those who will study and learn his wonders. But now Mr. Ross was at a table, hurriedly writing out a prescription 1 a leaf of his pocket-book. “ Take that,” he said to Mr. West- .ern—-“ take it yourself to my wife, id briUff wlinf. aliA TirAT^nvoa yo\ father. “ Yes, to.ray wife,” said the young surgeon. “ There, man, I ’d trust my life to her accuracy; so do not be afraid.” 'With the obedience of a servant Mr. Western hurried from the room, and in a few m om ents Jnore t h e s o ’and of hoofs was heard upon the ground as he galloped off himself to fetch the medicine. In less than half an hour, ___ Western was back, to find that the poor child had shown further signs of returning animation; the horrible convulsed look had left its counten ance, its breathing was more regular, and already, with tears of gratitude, the mother was whispering her thanks. But Mr. Ross only shook his head, say ing that the danger had been staved off for a while, and that it WP still imminent. Then taking the medicine from its bearer, he tasted* nodded his head in token of satisfaction, and with- his own bands administered a portion of “ Now, Mr. Western,” he then said* fanning the child’s bead while lie spoke, “we have done all we can do for the present, the rest must follow, and bring back what she preps lur wife?” stammered the VV AMU. JVUA AOtUJ O Vfi.lL 1X1* vide that between u s ; but I feel it my duty to tell you that the child is in very great danger, and likely to be for some time. now, is to try watte of naturi time. W hat we have to do is to try and make up for the of nature that has already tak- 'ed the instructions for j u i c e o f m e a t , arro' in place.’ Then folk Sy . - root-—-that an ample supply of brandy should be a t band ; when, just as he was in the act of administering a lit tle in the arrowroot, the door opened, and in walked the great practitioner, expressing great attonishment a t see ing Mr. Boss there. “ You here, sir,” he exclaimed.— “ This seems to be a most astounding breach of professional etiquette. Fer- liaps yon will step with me into the next room.” “ Mr. Tompkins!” exclaimed the father angrily, “ I intrusted the life of my sick child in your hands. You will my sick child in your glected that trust—whether from ignorance or carelessness, I “ Oh, indeed!” blustered the surgeon ; “ I canan see throughhrough thehe triok; loudly ; “ I c see t t charlatans, and pretenders are ah waiting to seize their opporti and—good heavens I” he ejaeu as i f in horror—\‘a desert spoonful of strong brandy to a tender chUd like that.” Mr. Eoss turned upon him fiercely. always tu n ity; e j a c u la t e d . he -proceeded 'to pour in the diluti spirit, drop by drop, behveen the pai ed lips, wateliing eagerly the effee y tiny drop that trickled down ling to brighten the eye and give life; even as when the effectpass- ff the eye grew dim, and the life every seem ij new ed off sexaed s l o w l y s i n k i n g ' a w a y . h=x ).st hope, tho wooptog woman raised her red eyes, and joined her i ^ h „ a . o „ p p w 4 . k . o h to._oa*. I could not speak before that man, sir,” he said, “for he has heapetl too , _______ -leape many insults on me since I have been in.Eldetby; but I think that now, with careful watching and treatment, there may bB*sQrae hope for the little on e ; ana if. you would prefer that your old dttendant should take my place I will directly leave.” ed most plainly, b ut her husband tool the young doctor’s halid, and in t broken voice said something respect ing gratitude and thanks* which h< could not finish, for worn out witl watching and anxiety, he sank into c chair and wept like a child. An.xious liouivs followed, life appear ing to be sustained by the prescriptior administered at intervals of ten and fifteen minutes, and then the flami led to spring itp vigorously, pui (wly decline, and then ing for some stronger blast o f air than' usual to extinguish it for ever. And so on at every quarter-hour the little sufferer seemed to he snatch ed back, as it were, from the hands of death—^all that day, all that night, and again the next day ; and during *Ne3 ours, bat only to at four o’clock by \the anxious father, who dreaded that some change for the worse had taken ph But the alarm was needless, though Mr. Boss once more took up his place at the side of the little cot, -working incessantly at his task witli the earn estness of a man whose soul was in hii profession. No night seemed too loi no watching too tedious, in his anx ty to get the better of thf with whom he was contending, was away for ten minutes he wi return, leai h e great enera) - Ifh t care: and attention death ^ gainedgained thehe victoctory. t vi But science conquered, and from atching,ti Mr.. ~ need to visits incessant wa tion was redu( Boss’s attei s thiee times. twice, and then only once a day. ’ ‘ ■ ■ “ h e da ly chased. ly ' From the inanimate pale face the dark shadow hqd been effectnall] and divers signs of amendment set in, one succeeding the other rapidly. All danger was quite at an end. id now the change had taken place ; for, instead of sitting a t horm hour after hour, neglected and long ing for a patient, the demands u p o i Mr. Ross’s time grew incessant, til with a pout on her lips, htjt joy in hei heart, Mrs, Ross declared that sh< could never be sure of her husband from one hour to another. For th( fame of the cure had gone forth witl all the exaggerations common to a country place. The Ross family found fast friend.- in the Westerns; and it was .at one o-' the dinner parties at the Hall, that a f t e r se r io u s ly sp e a k i n g to his.friendi^ of the debt of obligation lie was un der to Mr. Eoss, and thanking him give tone to the conversation, the squi related an anecdote he professed d a few days before, in t encounter which took place hetwei ton of the old church, and tl old gentleman doing duty at the ne’ Said the firs! umph* “you don’t have nearly so many funerals in your yard as I do in mine.” “ No,” said the o t h e r “ and some how they seem to be falling off year by My place isn’t hardly worth ing. Tho town gets a deal too healthy.” “ I t does so,” said the first speaker. “ I am nearly, ruined, and can’t make i t o u t , a n y h o w — c a n y o u ?” “ No,” said the other, “its past me” “and then the two fellows went chat tering and grumbling off,” continued Mr. \Western; “ and if any one wishes to know the reason of the falling off, he must ask our friend, the doctor there, though he will be sure to deny th a t h e h a s a n y t h i n g to d o w i t h i t . ” “ There’s the bell again, dear,”lear, said Mrs. Ross, “and if it ing that you 'asn’t for kniw- you are wanted for some poor : creature,.eature,^' I believe I should •ing cr exclaim against it as being a perfect trouble. You never seem to get a meal in peace.” “ O h ! yes I do,” said Mr. Eoss, smiling. “ The bell does its share of the work, though, certainly. By the w a y , th o u g h , m y d e a r , y o u - n e v e r fe e l any dread of having the bell answered no, what a question!” “ W hat. iw, do you ?” “ Dread ? no, what said Mrs. say that ?\ Eos made you I was only thinking of a few years ago, wherf a ring at the bell sometimes caused one’s heart to beat, lest it should be some hungry creditor,” Mrs. Eoss sighed, .and then smiled, laying, “ and all the rest has come of patience.” “ And “ But creeping ing one s for prote you will ever agaii have no ^rouble,” hn Ross hei recalled the loss he had so nearly stained, and the scene at the hall, the hope of two fond parents lay a-dying, and then he answered iltly— “ God forbid I” strong aim around her ai ection—“ I don’t think, d in Bay that the i John Ros was silent for a while, as recalled the loss he had so nearly sustained, when the _A BEAtJrrFUti SEsxxarsxT.—:Sor- row sobers us and makes the mind genial. And in sorrow we love and tru s t q u r f r i e n d s m o r e te u d e r lv , a n d t h e dead becomes dearer to us. 'And just a s t h e Staj^ s h i n e o u t in t h e n i g h t so led faces that look to us bough before their fea tures were ladihg from our recollection . Suffering! Lei: no man dread it too much because it is better for him and it will help to make him sure of being immortal. It is not in the brigh tdays, but only in the solemn night, that other worlds are to bg seep shining in the long, long diaancea. And it is in sor- -tbe night of the soul—that we see THE LAST-DOLLAB, The Eev. James Spring was minis ter in the little mountain village cf rhornville. H e was poor, ana hii ::ongregation poorer. Often befor( be had been very near his last dollai but he had never got out until to-day. “ S o y o u ’ve been always saying,\ lobbed his wife; “ but what is to be come of us when this is gone I The} wem’t trust us any more at the store, and your salary won’t he duefor thre weeks, even if yo’a get it then. Whi do you stay here, when the people an so poor.” “ I hav< money to trav< oed the m^EEADY YET.' Pomp Wentwofth, of Porlsmoulh, . liigtorical darkey, \was one of New Tampshh'e’s slaves. When Pomp getting old he came to his mistress ne morning with a serious air. . ‘ lad alwaysvays beenen a veryery iaithful- s be a v f ant and was indulged and petted hy ’e no other place to go to • to travel to it, if the Lore’ 5 way. My work for tin I wi haven’t, and it won’t come to me. Oh! what shall we d o !” and sh( poor children.” “ Once I was lands despairingly. “ M j young, and now I am )ld,” solemnly said Ler husband, speak ing ill the words o f the Psalmist, “yel f i n a n s w e r to th i s p i o u s eja< ■ation, there came a sudden knock the door. All the while the ministei ind his wife had been talking, a stem had been raging outside. On openin; rhe door, a traveler quite wet throiigl -mtered. “ I was coming through the fores! from Maryville,” he said, “and ven tured to stop at the first house I saw ■My horse is in the shed. Do I tak< too great a liberty ?” “ Not at all,” answered the mastei )f the house. “ W e have but a pooi ■belter, as you see-; there is a goot ire at any rate.” For it was in the kitchen when ;his conversation took place. Indeei his bumble bouse boasted no parlor lud the kitchen was dining-room Imwing{rawing room,om, livingiving roomom andnd all.ll. ro l ro a a The stranger proved to be a man )f education and intelligence, and ii •onversation with him, igence, the ministp- intellectual companionship been the rare thing it was now, amoni [hese hills. A t l a s t th e sto r m ah a t e c l, a n d tin ■stranger arose to go. His host ac- rompanied him to the gate, and watch- id him until lie-disappeared behind e urn of the road. “ See here, James,” said his wife, ea gerly, when he returned to the house. —“ I found this on the table neai where the gentleman sat.” It was a fifty doll from a pocket-book, and on of the paper was written thi trapped hastil; that looked fifty tily in a bit of papi I as if it had been torn ;et-book, and on the insidi lar greenback ;t of lad ritten the verse oi paper was wril the Psalmist, which was now apparent the traveller had overheard. “ I thought he -was writing the di rections h e asked for,” said the rainisj, ter. “ He means it for us. Thanks be to the Lord I Did I not say, my dear, he would provide ?” His wife burst into tears. “ God forgive me 1” she said, “ I will never doubt again. The Lord surely sent this stranger to our ni/l.’ ” And he will still husband. “ Whatever my It may be, here or elsewhere, in Him trust.” sent this stranger to our aid itill provide, replied Whatever my lot elsewhere, i A m o n t h a f t e r , a le t t e r , a ra r e e v e n t eame to the “ Rev. James Spring.” It was as follows: “ Rev. and dear Sir— The church at Maryville has unani-, »usly called you to its pastorate, is fifteen hundred dollai Lhe salary is fifteen hundi a n d a g o o d p a r s o n a g e letter concluded by sa- writer of this first cami The “ The mow you by your hospitality to him during a storm^ a few weeks ago. He overheard >u in a moment in great distress, eak with such full faith, that he els you are just the person for this charge, and on his recommendation this call has been made.” Maryville ■ich and and fertile ey, a t the foot of the hills. It was a far fitter sphei-e of labor for'a man of the* minister’s abilities, than the wild village in the mountains. A B ibd j n t h e H a n d . —A colored man, to whom meat was a rare bless ing, one day found in .his trap a fine rabbit. He took him out alive, held him under his arm, patted him, and began to speculate on his qualities. “ OK I L aw berry f a t ! De fattest I i? L et us see how me cook him. Me roast him. N o : be SO berry fat. he fry himself! G o lly! how fat he be !, Den me s.tew him.” The thought of the savory stew lade the negro forget himself, and in >readii)g out the feast to the iraagina- atting at a goodly the rabbit, and squatting at a goodly distance, eyed liis late owner witn great composure. The negro knew there was an end to the matter, so, suram«)ning all his philosophy, he thus addressed the rabbit: “ You long-eared, -s-rhile-whiskered, ter a u l ” An old man recently eloyed from a village in Mississippi with* a girl of fifteen. The couple were cap tured a t New Orleans. When inform ed a t the police station that the old fellow, had a wife and family already, the girl replied, “ I know th a t; but you see, they don’t treat him well and he’s got the rheumatism and the Asthma, you see sir* I sorter pitied him, me concluded we’d come away and ant ana was i lhe -svhole fami ^ ‘‘ ^Ye^], Pomp,” said his mistres.«, ieein g h i s se r io u s lo o k , “ w h a t i s i t “ Misses,” : ■ ing o ld; doi oin ’e ch'urch?” ’ “ I don’t know. Pomp; are you pre- lared J o give up everything on earth or the sake o f this ?” ^^Yeg, Miggey; tell Forap what he ^ “ You must leave off swearing. Golly, missey, Pomp hasn’t swore } ten years,” W ell, so much the better. Then mu must give up drinking.\ “ W h at Missey; noli drink one drop )f flip on a cold morning, when Mis- !8y fix him so n ice?” “ No, not a drop. Pomp.” “ D e n , b y g o l l y , ” sa y s he,- p u t t i n g m his hat, “ I guess Pomp’ll I’et him done annuder year fust.” S ym pto m s o f O i . i > M a i d e k ib m — ^A Scotch paper thus details them: When a woman begins to drink •ler' tea without sugar—that’s a symp- When a woman begins to read love itories abed—that’s a symptom. When a -woman heaves a sigh on bearing of a wedding—that’s a symp- When a woman begins to say what 4ym-ptom. man’s presence cap on—that’s a symptom. When a woman begins to.change her shoes every time she comes into ;he'house, after a walk—^that’s a symp- When a woman begins to rub her fin- ?ei's over tables and chairs to see if they are dusty-rthat’s a symptom. When a woman begins to go to bed lingsings andnd a woolenlen i .rith her stock a a woo night in—that’s a symptom. to any one for fear they should s ihe’s losing her teeth—that’s a symp- When a woman begins to talk about rheumatism in her k^nees and feet— that’s a symptom. When a woman begins to refuse to ell her age—that’s a symptom. When a woman begins to talk about Jrafts and stops up all the crevices in be. doors and windows— that’s a syinp- T e e a s u e e s i n H e a v e n .— W e read f a philosopher, who, passing through I mart filled with articles of taste and u x u r y , m a d e himself quite happy vith this simpje yet sage reflection: ‘ H o w m a n y things there are here ;hat I do not want!” Now, this is just the reflection with which the earn- ist believer passes happily through :he world. It is richly furnished with ,vhat are called good things. It has ■pots of honor and power, to tempt th e restle s s a s p ir a n t s o f a m b itio n o f ivery grade. It has gold and gems, houses and lands, for the covetous ind ostentatious. It has innumera ble bmvers of taste and luxury where self-indulgence may revel. But the Christian whose piety is deep-toned, and whose spiritual perceptions are clear, looks over- the world, and ex claims : “ How much there is here chat I do not want! I have what is far better. My treasure in heaven.” - [ D r .T y n g . ^ -^ A S l i g h t M isa - p p e e h e n s i o h .— Some litttle time since a young gen- but scarcely nrg.N.Y., calling on tleman of serious turn but scarcely m f a i t in the matter o f literature, call ed at a. book store in the city of Sy racuse to make a purchase. After tak ing a deliberate and satisfactory sur- 'f of the well stocked shelves, he ikoned to a clerk, and pointing ^ to a volume before them, remarked : “ I ’ve looked over all your books, but don’t see anything I care to buy unless it be that book on holy games, which I think would suit.” The said volume proved to be “Hoyle on Games.” It was in Trumanshi at an old sci a minister, .made the usual query “ Any scissors to grind ?” Receiving negatij'C answer, it was the minis ter’s turn, which he took by asking:— “ Are you a man of God ?” “ I don’t understand .you.” “ Are you ready to die f” The question struck home. Gath ering up his k it and scrambling for the door, he exclaimed, terror-strick en : “ O L o rd! O Ixord ! you ain’t go ing to kill me are you ?” “ D ey D on ’ t D ie D a t ’W ay .”— The comment of a colored preacher on the text, “ I t is more blessed to give than to receive,” is inimitable for its joint as well as eloquence. “ I ’ve mown many a church to die ’cause it didn’t give enough; but I never knew a church to die ’cause it gave too much. D ey don’t die dat way. Bred- eren, has any of j’ou knowed of a church to die ’cause it give too much ? If you do, just let me know, and I’ll ake a pilgrimage to dat church, and I’ll climb by de soft light of de moon .. J stand to its moss covered d a r a n d lif t s a y ,-‘I de Lore! a n a j n e c o n c l u d e q w e live by oamelv^.” A g o o d n a t u r e d fe l l o w w h o w a s nearly eaten out of house and home by the constant visits of his friends, IS one day complaining bitterly of 3 nuineroug vigitorg, “Shore and I ’ll tell ye how to get rid of era, ” gaid a a Irishman. “Pray, how ? ” “Lend money to the poor hnes, and borrow money of the- rich ones, and nather sort well iver trouble ye agin. P e e p a e e d f o e t h e 'W o e s t .— a handsome young bride was observed to b e i n d e e p r e f lec t io n day.\ One of her bnuesmaia her the subject of her meditath was thinking, ” she replied, m y old beaux I Ahouid ihonld become a widow” ich o f m arry, i f I
