Decatur Eagle, Volume 2, Number 14, Decatur, Adams County, 14 May 1858 — Page 1

TH E DECA TU R EAGLE.

VOL. 2.

THE EAGLE. PUBLISHED EVKRY FRIDAY MORNING, BY PHILLIPS & SPENCER, Office, on Main Street, in tha old School House, one Square North of J. & P Crabs' Store. Terms of Subscription: For one year, $1 50, in advance; $1 75, within the year, and $2 00 after the year has expiled. D*No paper will be discontinued until all arreragee are paid, except at the option of the Publishers. Terms of Advertising: One square, (ten lines) three insertions, $1 00 Each subsequent insertion, 25 (TyNo advertisement will be considered less than one square; over one square will be coun- I ted and charged as two; over two, as three, etc. ( JOB PRINTING: We are prepared to do all kinds of job work. 1 in a neat and workmanlike manner, on the most. reasonable terms. Our material for the coniple- i tion of Job-Work, being new and of the latest styles, and we feel confident that satisfaction can be given. THE FLIRT. BY H. K Her eyes were blue, her cheek was fair. Yet had not ‘'thought’s pale cast” to mar Its delicate carnation; Her hair in golden ringlets fell, To meet her bosom’s gentle swell; She looked, in fine, a very belle. Born to “create sensation. Her height, five feet, and something more; - And gracefully she trod the floor, As ships move o’er the ocean. Her laugh had made misanthrope glad; Enough to make a Quaker mad, To see the tiny feet she had— And then, ye Gods, their motion! Yet was she fickle as the wind— Unable to make up her min 1; Constant in naught but changing. Old suitors she’d discard for new, She'd smile on me, and then on you, Poor devils knew not what to do, To keep the girls from ranging. Os lovers she had full a score; Concluding each in turn, a bore, She drove him to distruction: To day, ’twas Will; to morrow, Tom; Then Harry was the lucky one, Till each determined lie would run, And leave the field us action. So,girls, take heed to what you do; What her befall, may chance to you; 80, list to its narration; She lost a constant lover's reward, And died a maid, by few deplored; Because “of all things, she adored A desperate flirtatisn.’ *1 bought these boots to wear when I go iato genteel society.’ ‘Then they will be likely to last you u lifetime, and be worth something to your heirs,’ It was the saying of Sir Robert Peel: i ’I never knew a man to escape failure, in ! either body or mind, who worked seven days in the week. •The Devil is in tny coati’ exclaimed Bill, when, in the haste of putting it on, he tore a big hole in the sleeve. ‘You are right for once,’ quietly chimed in his friend Jim. A ‘West.- rn editor wishes to know whether the law recently enacted against the carrying of dsadly weapons applies | to doctors who cairy pills in their pockets. A North Carolina Editor, acknowledging the receipt of a bottle of brandy forty - tbrea years old, says: ‘This brandy is so very old that we very much fear that it cannot live much longer? • I. —i, Definitions from a New School Book.— \ "John, what’s a bakery? "A place where they bake, sir. “What’s a btewery? “A place where they brew, “What’s a gallery? , "Ti hi—a place where there is gals! i Mr ,1 want to buy a shilling’s ; worth of hay. ' ( •Very well, you can have it. Is it for , your father? I “No, ’taint. It’s for the hoss. Dad . don’t eat hay. I, * w,- M ri ( Ladies Reccollections.— Mary, my love, j do yon remember the text this morning? Mary— ‘No, papa, 1 nevercan remem- i berths text, l‘ve such a bad memory? •By the way, Mary, said her mother, , ‘did you notice Susan Brown? ‘Mary—‘Oh* yes. Wnata fright! Shell bad on her last year's bonnet, done up, a pea green silk, a black lace mantilla, ; brewn gaiters, an imitation Honiton col- < lar, a lava bracelet, her old eardrops and : i such a fan! Oh, my! I Mother—‘Weil, my dear, your mem- i ory is certainly very bad. ',

TWO BEAR-TRAPS: Aud What was Caught in Them. I BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR. As I sat in the office of the Conway i i House one evening, where quite a party | were assembled, Ethan Knox came limpI ing in, and pulled a chair up near the stove by my side. I had heard that he got his leg injured during some sort of a bear-hunt, but I had never learned the particulars; so I ventured to ask him how the thing happened. ‘Didn’t you never hear about that?’ he asked, good-naturedly. ‘No—I never did, and I wish you would tell me all about it.’ ‘I s’pose you’ve heart’at’twas in a i I'tarnal bear scrape, haint ye?’ he said,! gathering Lis legs up for an easy position. ‘l’ve heard just that much, and no I more.’ ! ‘V/al—now you shall hear the whole I on’t, an’ then you’ll know what a cussed scrape I had. When I first settled up ; under old Mote the bears was awful thick 'specially in the fall, and began to have i trouble with ’em the very first season I was there. I caught a good many of'em, and by’mby I began to think ’at I was ■ drivin’ a pooty fair bargain with the crit- ' ters. Their hides an’ taller, an’ meat ' amounted to a fair sum —more, I reckon, I ' than what they distroyed would ’ave come to. But finally I come across an ! old feller that puzzled me. ‘One season, just as my corn was in ' milk, I found that a bear had got a taste of it. The tracks was the biggest I had ever seed, and I knowed ’twas a lunker. I sot my trap by the fence where he come in, but he wouldn’t get into it. It was an old rick fence, and he could tear over it anywheres, and just as sure as I’d set my trap in one place he’d come over an-j other. When I'd tried this game four j nigh's I made up my mind ’at I would , lay in wait and shoot hirn. So I loaded " up my old Queen’s-Arm with about three fingers of powder, two balls, and a slug; and the next night I took my station pooty nigh to where the bear come in the night afore. About midnight 1 heerd a I crashin’ among the bushes, an’ afore long I ( Mister Bear come over the old rick not ■ more’n three rods from where I was a i squallin’ down. I took aim, an’ let him | i have; but it didn’t kill the cuss. He gin : I a righteous grunt and growl, an’ went ! bsck over that ere old rick a leetle mite 1 quicker’n he come in. 1 fullered him till' 1 lost his track, an’ then I went home ' with a lame shoulder, for the old gun ! kicked me plaguey nigh over. ‘ ’Twa’n’t but a little while afore that( same bear come into my corn-patch again snd I determined to bare him this time anyway. I fullered his track out into the woods, and finally I come to a clump of young maples where he had two paths.— I could tell that he had to take one of! the two, for the saplin’s grow’d so nigh ( together that he couldn’t git between’em ■ only in these two places. I seed at oncet I i ’at I must have two traps if I’d make a ! sure thing of it, for if I sot my trap in I one path the bare d be sure to take ’tothI er; an’this was the only place where there seemed to be any path at all. So I went over the river and borrer’d another trap. ’Twasn’t quite so smart as mine, I but ’twas a good one. They was both steel traps, with long, sharp teeth riveted • onto the under jaws, an’ I tell ye they l ' shut up kind o’ savage like, now you’d better believe. ‘Well—l took these traps and went out, an’ set ’em where I thought they’d 1 be most likely to nap. They wa’n’t! more’n eight foot apart, for the paths run ! pooty close’t together. The drag-chains I were about six foot long, and into the end 1 of each on ’em was a red-oak toggle three i foot long an’ four inches through; so I : know’d the old feller couldn’t drag his trap a great ways. I covered the things; all up as nice as I could, and then went j home. ‘The next mornin,’ afore the sun was; fairly up, 1 took iny gun and went out; an’ I hadn’t much more’n got over the i old rick afore I heered a terrible smasliin’ i amongst the maples. I hurried up, and \ i there was old Mister Bear lia'-d an’ fast < in the trap I’d borrered. He’d got ,' caught by the right hind leg, and was in the path tryin’ to pull the trap along; but the toggle was set again two trees, ■ i an’ he couldn’t budge it. I jest slipped I up by the other path, bein’ careful to step I over my trap, an’ poked my gun to with- i in four foot of the bear’s fore-shoulder, i He was a whoppin’ feller—the biggest I’d i ever seed—an’ I was kind o’ keerful how I I aimed; but the mischief was in the old 1 cuss, for jest as I got my finger on the I trigger, and had pulled enough so’t I i couldn’t hold fire, he made a wheel.— I The old gun went off, and the ball went I through the fleshy part of his hunch, jest I doin’ him hurt enough to make him mad' t r’n ever. And wasn’t I a fool? By t thunder, I ought to ’ave been hurt, that’s I a fact. A s the bear jumped at me 1 leap- ’ ed back— right slap into my own trap' t

“Our Country’s Good shall ever be our Aim—Willing to Praise and not afraid to Blame."

DECATDR, ADAMS COUNTY, INDIANA, MAY 14, 1858.

‘Jertwsalem and tribulation! Didn't !l yell! The jaws had closed jest in the middle of the calf of my leg, cultin’clean into the bone, and two of the teeth was drove clean thiough the meat and rwIcle! I settled down as though I’d been shot, an’ fortune time I swow I didn't know where 1 was. Howsumever, I finally come to a bit, an’ tried to open the jaws of the trap. But 1 might as well ’ave tried to pull up an old oak by the roots! I coulden’ set that ere trap only with a powerful lever, and to move a spring now was impossible. I might have loaded and fired again, but in my thun- | derin’ hurry I’d fetched mv powder-horn, and left my bullets all to home! Wa’n't I a fool! ‘But I found another trouble, an’ a pooty considerable, one it was, too. The. bear had slipped his toggle when he turned to jump at me, an’ though it caught again, yet he wasn’t more’n three foot from me, and jumpin’ like mad! I was almost crazy with pain; but I had sense enough to see how the bear was held, an’ 1 tell ye, when I found it out it wasn’t very consoliu.’ His toggle was caught between two saplin’s an’ one on ’em wasn’t higger’n a sled-stake. It bent like a whip-stock every time he leaped at ■ me, and I expected every second to see it slip. If it did slip, I knew I was a goner, for it wouldn’t fetch up again short of ! four foot, startin, and the bear could reach me at that. ‘Pooty soon I seed that the little sap- . lin’must give way, and I must either move or die. I managed to stand up, and by suffein’ a pain that would ’ave killed me at any other time, managed to move the trap about three foot, and there I come to a dead set. My toggle was fast! Wasn’t that a go? But ’twas worse’n that. I coulden’t move towards it with- ; out moving towards the bear, for he was I right between the toggle and me! But j ’twas the saving of my life that I moved jas I did, for no sootier had I started my trap, than the critter gave a tremenjus spring, and the little saplin’ bent till the toggle slipped by, and he come rushing on towards me For a few seconds 1 thought ’twas all day with me; but, as i luck would have it, the togglet fetched up again, though it let him come a leetle j too nigh for my li kin.’ j ’lf I was in a muss afore, I was sartin:ly in one now, for the bear wasn’t a bit , more’n eighteen inches from me. I mean, he could come within that of touching ■ me. To move another peg I couldn.t to I save my soul. My leg was broken—my ! flesh cut up, and tiie blood running ; stream. My soul! I’d got to die at any j rate, I thought, for I felt the faintness coming over me. I began to grow sick j and dizzy, and 1 believed I should have fainted away then, if I hadn't ‘are seen ! that the bear was tearin his leg off in the ! trap. He was so mad that he didn't seem to notice his plain, only he wanted to get at me. I could see that his leg had got twisted around, and that the skin was nil off, and that the great foot hung liropsy under the jaws of the trap. 1 knew that bears had torn their feet off in traps to get away, and why shouldn't this one do it? ‘1 began to think with all the sense I had. I confess I never was verry bright, ! i but I want you to understand ‘at mv idees was a little sharpened about that time. All at once't a thought struck me, and as I rolled it over in my mind, the i faintness left me for a little while. I had ! thought of smashin* the critter on the ■head with the butt of mv gun, but 1 knowd ‘at 1 couldn’t hurt him so. Then 1 thought of my great butcher knife l‘d brought me to bleed the feller with in 'case 1 should shoot him, but 1 couldn’t! reach him with that. But couldn't I put the two together? ‘No sooner did the idee strike me than 1 went at work. 1 let the bear leap and | minded my own business. 1 took the knife, which was one 1 had had made to slick hogs with, and put the handle onto the muzzle of my gun, then 1 took off the string of my powder-horn—it was a strong leather string, long enough to go around my neck, and hang down under my arm, 1 took this and bound the knife on as tight as 1 could. 1 happend to have some old whip-lashin‘s in my pocket, and with these 1 bound the knife on stronger. When this was done 1 tried the thing,! and found it pooty firm. “Now, 4 says 1; ‘old bear, you've got to take it, if 1 live. His foot was almost off ' now, and his breath came slap and hot into my face. 1 watched my chanee, and made a jab at his breast; but 1 hit the : bone, and didn't do him much damage; But my knife held. 1 struck three times, but the fourth time told. The knife went in between his four shoulders, right slap to his heart. 1 knuwd I‘ddoneit by the way the blood spouted. Pooty soon the bear settled back onto his trap, and 1 settled baek onto mine; and that was about the last 1 could recollect till 1 found myself on ray own beu with my wife and two darters, and the doctors, and two of my neighbors, standin' around me.

I No see that man I‘d borrow'd the trap :of had come over that morniu,' with one of his big boys, to see if 1 d caught the d They got to my house about nine _ "‘clock, and ns 1 hadn't come, home they thought they'd go out and find me, as 1 ■ I told ‘em where 1 was a goin‘ to set the , tr-n' And they did find me—and it's jlfiTky they did, too—for I'd heen there all of four hours, and was bleedin* then. 1 couldn't *a* stood it much longer. They got me out of the trap and packed me . home, my wife washed and straightened out my legs the best she could. She never dreamed 1 was in danger afore 1 was fotchea.a, for 1 was olttn gone half the ' day on a bear track. I ‘Howsumever s got the old bear, ! though 1 didn* ge» any more that sgason, I for 1 didn't get out of the house till alter the snow flew. My leg grew together again, and got to be as strong as ever; but it's plaguey homely, and don't swing so pooty on a walk as it used to. Ye ] may think 1 look upon that old game ! leg with feelin's of regret; but 1 don't do no such thing. 1 never think of it without bein' rite up an* down grateful that it wasn't no worse. , in rrt Pat’s Opinion of tub Possum.—*Do you know what a ‘possum’ is? asked a Jacksonville (Florida) correspondent; *if aot, be it known to you that the ‘possum is in siza like unto a woodchuck, gray in ■color, feet like a squirrel, and color like unto a gray squirrel, but a tail long and Hike a rat’s. Again, in this region, we have an animal similar to your gray squirrel but a third larger, and color darker. With this preface, I’ll tell a tale as it was told me, and if not an old Joe, it is a good one. A party of Pat-ricians, who handle the shovel and the hoe on the railroad near here, went out for to hunt, and on their return brought in some fox squirrels, (the above-mention-ed.) One ‘broth of a boy,’ however, had killed a possum, an animal new to them. After several guesses as to the spee’es, a wise one declared it was the ould feyther 1 of the squirrels: it being suggested by a doubter that the tails was bare, Pat quickly rejoined: *lt is his great age do you see. tiiat has made him ".bald! This proved a clincher aud the I problem was solved satisfactorily to the sons of Erie, but the ‘darkies* exploded incontinently.— Knickerbocker. Parental Example.—Example is a ’Jiving lesson. The life speaks. Every action has a tongue. Words are but ar- ' ticulated breath. Deeds are the facsimiles of the soul: they proclaim what is within. The child notices the life. It should be in harmony with goodness.— Kern is the vision of youth; every mask is transparent. If a word is thrown into the other. Nothing is more important , than that parents should be consistent. A sincere word is never lest But advice, counter to ex imple, is always suspected, i Both cannot be true, one is false. Example is like statuary. It is reality.— The eye dwells upon it; the memory re- ! calls it; imagination broods over it. Its ■ influence enters the soul. Parental ex- ' ample becomes incorporated with the I child's understanding. He cannot forcret itif he would. If it is good, it blesses. If it is bad tyraniies. The parent may die, his example cannot. Let life, then, be an unblemished picture, a consistent whole. Acquitted. Ralph Hardesty, citizen of Bonn county, Kentucky, tried last week for the murder of Grubb the seducer of his sister.— He was acquitted. Upon reading the verdict, Judge Nutall addressed Hardesty as follows: Sir:—You have been indicted by a grand jury of your country upon a most i heinous charge. You have put yourself npon your country and God, for deliverance. You have had a fair and impar- i tail trial before them, and they have both pronounced you not guilty, and so say 1. It may not be proper for me to express ' my sentiments, yet nevertheless, 1 will do it. Young man, had 1 been wronged as you have been, 1 would have spent evdollar 1 had on earth, and all 1 could have begged and borrowed, and then starved upon the track of the v'llian, but 1 would have imbrued my hands in his blood. Go hence without delay. You are acquitted. —A little urchiu, some :»o or three years old, being a little distance from the ! house was suddenly startled by a clap of thunder. He was much frigtened and made rapid tracks for the house. But. as the shed was the nearest shelter, he entered it, and casting a defiant look at the clouds, exclaimed, ‘Thunder away, I’m nnder the shed! ‘Now, Patrick,’ said a judge, ‘what do you say to the charge-are you guilty o r not guilty?’ Faith, but that’s difficult; for yer honor to tell, let alone myself— I wait I till besr the Bideno®.’

, Non-Jotervcuiion. . Commend us io the New York . Book tor freethougbts freely stated. I’.s . daring impartially frightens bigotsand , and offends the intense molishness of s-c [ tionaiisaa; but, with the strongest South- . ern feelings, it rarely lends itself to the , wor k of the secessionist, and in this the . Z/nfon would co well to profit by the example. It siezes and kills with vim toe follow- . ing scorpion paragraph, which is going the round of the Southern press: . I In the recent debate in 'he House of ; Representatives, on the Kansas-Lecomp- > ton constitution, we see it stated in the Washington Union, that the following de- ' clarations were solemnly made: J Mr. Farnsworth. So help me God, ■ another slave-Sta'.e shall never enter the ■! Union by my vote. J Mr. Giddings. I will never consent i ■ J that Ohio shall associate with another ■ slave-State. Mr. Bingham. I will not vote for the > ■ admission of a slave-State—certainly not. Mr. Colfax. I would not vote for the t admission of Kansas if the whole people come here with a slave Constitution.’ To this the Day-Book justly replies, , that there is at the core of the Northern t Democracy a sound and saving sense of! f the terms of Union, and will accept any , State, slave or tree, upon the clearly exj pressed will of the people. To doubt this . it says, ‘is a libel on Northern patriotism, j an insult to Northern intelligence. Why, , i a ‘slave’ State presented to morrow—that 1 is, a true bona fide ‘slave’ State, like Cuba .'or Central America —would immortalize . Mr. Buchanan’s administration, and bring to its support two thirds of the Northern people. The acquisitions of Lousiana, , Florida, and Texas, have been the most , popular acts in the history of the Federal Government, at the North as well as at the South; and the next acquisition of! •slave’ territory will be sustained with ir- > repressible enthusiasm by the Northern , masses. It is true, bogus ‘Slave’ States t like Kansas are not particularly attractive I , of popular; but even here, too, if the peo- ; ■ j pie of that Territory were actually in fa- ,! vor of this so-called slavery, a majority of Northern voters would probably be in ,' favor of its admission as a ‘slave’ State.’ I .' To this we add our unhesitating opinion that the absolute and faithful acknowledgement of the principle of non-interven- j tion interposes a permanent shield against 1 t anti-slavery attacks under the old uncon- , stitu'ional cry of ‘noextension of slavery. ‘No more slave States’ is henceforth a ; . conquered and extinct delusion. The Stub Toed Boots.—A certain par-' ‘ ty whose names it is unnecessary to men- I tion were campad out west, near the Des Moines improvement. They had a large tent fitted up very comfortably, and the' hoosiers about there where in the habit of frequently dropping, in, and making themselves perfectly nt home. One afternoon, one of’ the party —C ,was sitting straddle of a trnnk, with a glass before him, shaving and a pair of stub toed shoes sitting on the trunk beside him, I not such stubs as the fancy used to wear, but different in every way, You may form some idea of their shape, by the Doctor saying that ‘the Shoemaker who ■ made them was too poor to buy a last, and theiefore, must have made them over his lapstone. C. had not been engaged over five minutes when in comes one of his hoosiers, very leisurely taking a seat, and commences taking a good sur- . vey. After endeavoring to draw out one or two of the party, and finding it 'no go, his gaze at length rested on our friend C’s shoes. Thinking he had a good sub- i ject for discussing on, he said: ‘1 say stranger, how did them ’ar boots : ever git drawed up so? C got up and looked at him a min- ■ ute; and then, in a rather unpleasant tone of voice, said: ‘Sir, 1 drove the toes of these boot*, < as you see, by kicking men out of this . tent, for asking impudent questions. The fellow did not stay a great while after that, but moved out with his face to 0., and with his eyes fixed firmly on the stub toed boots- | . Domestic Dispute.—A couple (not: very long married) were contending' about what should be the name of their ■ first and only child. 'William, my deer, I want to name him I Peter.’ •O! no, love, Ido not like Peter, he i denied his master. Let us call him Jo-! seph. ‘Why William! 1 can’t bear Joseph he denied his mistress. Gentility is neither in birth, wealth manner or fashion—but in mind. A high sense of honor, a determination never to take advantage of another, an ad--1 herence to truth, delicacy and politeness towards thosa with whom we have dealings, are its essentail characteristics. The fact that a nation it growing, is I Gods own charter of change.— Beecher I

The Happiest Man. When Socrates was asked, 'which of ■ mor'al mm was to be accounted nearest to the Gods in happiness, he answered, '■‘the man who is in want of the fewest things. In this answer, Socratvs left it to bo ' guessed by his auditors, whether, by the exemption from want which was to constitute happiness, he meant amplitude of possessions or contraction of desire — : And indeed, there is so little difference between hem, that Alexander the Great 1 confessed the inhabitant of a mb the next man to the master of the world; and left a declaration to future ages, that if he was not Alexander he should wish to be Diogenes. These two States, however, though they resemble each other in their consequence, differ widely with respect to the facility with which they may be attained. To make great acquisitions can happen to very lew; and in the uncertainty of human affairs, to many it will be incident to labor without reward, and lose what they already possess by endeavors to make it : more; some will always want abilities, ' and others opportunites to accumulata wealth. It it, therefore happy, that na- ' ture has allowed us a more certain and easy road to plenty; every man may grow ' rich by contracting his wishes, and by quiet acquiescence in what has been giv- , eu him supply the absence of more. ‘By virtiue’s precepts to control The thirsty cravings of the soul Is over wider realms to reign Unenvied monarch, than if Spaia You could to distant Libia join, And both the Carthages were thine. Advice. ‘1 missed my end, and lost my wav. By crack-brained wisdom led astray.’ It has long been charged by one part of mankind upon the other, that they will ' not take advice; that counsel and instruci tion are generally thrown away; and that in defiance both of admonition and ex- ! ample, all claim the right to choose their i own measures, and to regulate then own | lives. That there is something in advice very useful and salutary, seems to be equally (confessed on all hand; since even those ; who reject it, allow for the most part that ; rejection to be wrong, but charge the | fault upon the unskilful manner in which it is given. They a Imit the efficacy of I the medicine, but abhor the nauseousness ! of the vehicle. ‘ Thus mankind have gone on from century to century. Some have been advis- ! ing others how to act, and some have i been teaching the advisers how to advise. Yet very little alteration has been ; made in the world; for as we most all, by . the law of nature, enter life in ignorance we must all make our way through it by the light of experience. Evil Company. The following beautiful allegory is translated from the German: Sophroniu* , i wise teacher, would not suffer even grown up sons and daugthers to associate with those whose conduct w-s not pure and upright. ‘Dear father,’ said the | gentle Eulalia to him. one day, when he I forbade her, in company with her brother, to visit the volatile Lucinda, ‘dear father, you must think us very childish, il you imagine that we should be exposed ,to danger by it. The father took in silence a dead coal from the hearth, and reached it to his daughter. ‘lt will not burn you, my child: take it. Eulalia did so, and behold, her beautiful white hand was soiled and blackened, and, as it chanced, her white dress al*o. We can- ; not be too careful in holding coals,’ said Eulalia, in vexation. ‘Yea, truly, said the father, ‘you see, my child, that coals even if they do not burn, blacken; so it is with the company o! the vicious. An exchange contains an advertisement by an express company of uncalled for goods. By an accident the letter I had dropped from the word ‘lawful,’ and it now reads: ‘Persons to whom these packages are directed are requested to come ( forward and pay the awful charges on I the same — M ... A dandy with a cigar in his mouth,on board a steamboat, once stepped up to a 1 foreigner and said: . ‘Pray, sir, do gentleme n smoke in your ' country? ‘Gentlemen do not smoke in public in any country, was the laconic reply. A lady asked a noted doctor if he did not think the small bonnets the ladie* were had a tendency to prodnee congestion of the brain. ‘Oh, no, replied he, ‘ladies who have brains won’t wear them. Prentice says, ‘Children should not go near the woods at present, as the trees are shooting. Ina few days they will pack their trunks and leave. Charity is the only thing that we can give away without losing it

NO. 14.