The National Banner, Volume 4, Number 43, Ligonier, Noble County, 23 February 1870 — Page 1

THE NATIONAL BANNER, | Published Weekly by’ JOHMN B, STOLL, uIGONIER, NOBLE COUNTY, IND. v il ) W e TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION : Strictly in advanbe. .c......ooveiiiiniin, 2.82.00 7 his p is published on the Cash Principle ils Progrictes Doitentng that st 1o just ab right for 73 to demand advance pay,as it is for City publishers. §#~ Any person sending a clab of 10, accompa~ nied: with the cagh, wilfbc entitled to a copy of the paper, for one year, free of charge. ;

Michigan South. & N. Ind’a R. R. On and after April 25, 1869, trains will leave Sta. tions as follows: ° | : } ‘ GOING EAST: . : Ezpress. Mail Train, Chicng0..:.............%ﬁ P My oo 8300 A 0 2, HlRbart . ..ooiiviaimas Y i 50391 rok GOSHON. o..iiivivi i DUI M 00, enlßi2o P M, Millersburg. .......(d0n"t5t0p).......... 1:11 ¢ Ligonier sl vMB 0 A 0 M Wawaka............(don’tstop) -....... 1:10 ». M, 8?mﬂe1d..............“, AR 5, Nenaailville .oi .0, 1088 0% oo o, RBT 1} Arrive at Toledo .......2:80 Ax ........5:06 *¢ +° ~ GOING WEST: | Ezpress: Mail Train: Toledo. ivic div s vnrs v 19210 ML 0 50610300 PU M. Kenda11vi11e,.:.,......845 Ao Miovve. ... 4:4D P, M, Beimneld: 0000 4500 W Dl ONb - 8 WaWakE. /. i biniiiss Satacusy o BEHY it Liﬁ0nier...............4520 Boy Y Millersbueg, . oo /.00 P DOl PP GlosHen:, i i i bt 00 LBBlO SEIRNRCY DAI Bl Arrive at Chicago..., 9:25 * ~.......8:38 * *Stop 20 minutes for breakfast and supper. : Exi)ress leaves daily noth ways. Y M4il Train makesclose connection at Elkhart with trains going East and West. Y C..Fi HATCH, Gen’lSupt., Chicago. J. JOHNSON, 4gent, Ligonier, EXCELSIOR LODGE, NO. 267, I. O.oof 0.F., Meects at their Hall on m'er:TA Saturday evening of each week, - . JACKSON, N. G. M. W. COE, V. G. | R. D, KERR, Nov.'2sth, 1868.-tf. . |, "~ Secretary.

WM. L. ANDREWS, m Surgeon - Dentist. M itchel’s Block, Kendallville. ‘Allwork warranted. Examinations free. 247 : ~ J.M. DENNY, Attorney at Law,—Albion, Noble co., Ind Will give careful and prom pt attention to.a : b‘m&vncsslentruqted to his care. & 3-6 LUTHER H. GREEN, Attorney-at-Law & Notary Public. LIGOONIER, L' - - - INDIANA, Office on Cavin Strcet, over Sack Bro’s. Grocery, opposite Helmer House. . 41-8-ly " D.W. C. DENNY, Physician and’ Surgeon,—Ligonier, Ind. Will promptly and faithfully attend to all calle in the line of his profession—day or ni}ght-'.u town or any distance in the country. crsons wishing his serviees at m{;m, will ﬂng him at his father’s residence, firet door east of Meagher & Chapman’s Hardware Store, w.hcr?ﬁ all calls, when abseut, should be left. o 1-1 e R B L e i : E. RICHMOND, Justice of ‘the Peace & Conveyancer, Cavin street, Ligonier, Indiana.! Special attention given to con‘veyancin‘% and collections, Deeds, Bonds aud Mortgages drawn up, - and all legal buginess attended to promptly nnd; aceurately. May 26th, 1868.! HELMER HOUSE, A. JMATTISON, DProp'r, LIGONIER, - = - INDIANA. % Phis House has been Refitted and Refurnished ; in Wirst Class Style. : DR. E. W. KNEPPER, Relectic Physician.& Surgeon,—Ligonier. All diseases of the Lungs and Throat successful_y treated by inhalation, No charges for consultation. Office with W, W. Skillen, esq. 1-8 ' DR.P. W. CRUM, . G Bt . Physician and Surgeon, Ligonier, = - = . Indiana. ! Office oné door gouth of L. Low & Co’s Clothing Store, up dt_nirs. ; May 12th, 1869. G. W. CARR. W. D. RANDALL. - CARR & RANDALL, o 0 3 Physicians and Surgeons, LIGONIER, - - - - - - IND, ; v Will promptly attend all calls intrusted to them. _ Office on 4th St,, one door east ef the NATIONAL Baxxszr office, 5 343 | SAMUEL E. ALVORD, Attorney at {Law, Claim Agent, and Nxtarv Public, Albion, Noble Co., Ind. _Business in the Conrts, Claims of soldiers and Their heirs, Conveyancing; &c., promptly and carefully attended to. Acknowledgments, Depositions and Affidavits, taken and certifled. SACK BROTHERS, Bakers & Grocers. Cavin Street; Ligonier, Indiana. Fresh Bread, Pies, Cakes, &c., Choice Groceries, Provisions, Yankee Notions, &c “"I'he highest cash price|paid fer Country Produce May 13, '6B-tf. * SACK BRO'S. NEW FIRM AND NEW!GOODS } == AT — i W OLFE LA.KB, IND. Notice i 8 l‘eréby given that C. R. Wiley and Samuel Beall have entered into a co-partnership n the Merchandise business, and that they have _just unpacked a lurge stock of Dry Goods, Boots and Shoes, &c. (Call and see for yourself. : e WILEY & BEALL. . Wolf Lake, Nov. 3, 1889 27tf : e BITTIKOFFER, - ’ DEALER IN | WATCHES, CLOCKS, JEW'LRY,SILVER WARE,NOTIONS, Spectacles of every Description, ! &c., &c. &c., &c. All kinds of work done nﬁ)on the shorteat notice and warranted as to durability. 5 Shop in Bowen’s| new Brick Block, Kendallville, Indiana. ! 2-31

ELKHART BOOK BINDERY, i - atthe office of the “"HERALD OF TRUTH,” BLERARE, - - "= . L .. “IND. We take pleasure to inform our friends and the public in general, that we have established a Book Bindery, In connection wita’our Mrinting Office, and are . now prepared todo all kinds of Binding, such as Books, Pamphlets, Maga- : S zines, Music, promptly and on reasonable terms. i ) apr.29th, 768.-tf. JOHN F. FUNK. A NEW MOVEMENT! Solomon in new Quarters ! Tas subscriber would respectfully announce that he has just moved into the building formerlly occupied by 8. Mier & Cg/, purchased a large stock ol GROCERIES, &c,, and is now prepared to su{)ply every demab | in his tine at rates fully as low as any other es . tablishment in town. : Refreshments at all hours. - SOLSACKERMAN, Ligonier; Bept, 15th, 1869, | BAKERY AND B,ESTAURANTJ‘ BY / B. HAYNES, Opposite the Post Office, Ligonier, Ind. My Bakery will be supplied atall times with'fresh “ Biscuits, ~ Bread, Pies, - Cakes, o i) Crackers, &e., &c., Wedding parties glo—nics and private parties will be farnished with anything in the pastry line on short notice. and in the very latest style, on ' reasonable terms. Oysters and warm meals furnished at all hours. Charges reasonable. Farm- . ors will find this a good place to satisfy the “inne, man.”! Jan’y 6, "69.-tf : GANTS & MILLER, . Burgical and Mechanical Dentists, ! - LIGONIER, - . INDEANA. : e EEES o viy R 0 i MR, inincir fine. & @RS I ey hat they cal - SRRV L o may b %Wﬁ TOfec infny building,

dhe National Danner,

Vol. 4.

' From the St. Louis Republican. - ON THE DEATH OF TWINS. . “THEY SLEEP IN ONE COFFIN.” "% BY KATE HARRINGTON, (MRS. POLLARD.) :éhree months gince, twin cherubs wandered ' " From their birthplace, near His throne, Gliding through the shining portal '”_ﬂaud in hand, and all alone. : Heayen was all aflood with glory, Music fitled the Eden bowers, : And it seemed 80 strange to change it - For a shadowed world like ours. : But the tender ones kept yearning fiale . For a boon not found above, 5o they left their Father’'s mansion, 3 ~ Here to seek a mother’s love. Earthw.ard,Jmat their star-isles floating — . Downward, through the moon’s soft light, Tiny barques, in search of earth love, Anchored in the hush of night.. Not in vainthey ¢laimed-a welcome; : Love, responsive, met theircall; " 2 Though the mother’s heart held treasures ‘ There was room enough for all. £ ‘Side by side they grew together; & Ever restless when apart; Clinging tendrils twining closer Daily round the mother’s heart. But’ere long came Faiu and anguish, Heritage of all below, . And the youngest seemed to whisper, - “Little brother, let us go.”” s But the elder lay unheeding; o . Gazing back with wistful eyes, ! | Loth to change the earth-love round him For the glory of the skies. Till the younFer seemed to whisper "Ere his pallid lips grew dumb, i *‘Little brother, I am 'onely, L - She will join ug, come, 0, come." * So the twain went back together; R Wandered npward hand in haad, Left the hearts that eould not hold them, Reaching toward the spirit-land. This was why they came together— Just to claim a mother's love, . = And to point her yearning spirit : - To the waiting ones above. - Can we mourn them, we who sailing, ‘Oan life’s ocean, tempest-tossed, See how many a noble.vessel ’ ,Oft is shattercd —wrecked or lost? Can we doubt the mighty Captain, ; - Koowing wel) the treacherous main, . Out of love and tender pity, ‘ Called them back to port again ? Let us rather thank and trust Him -~ ' For His long and watchful care, . Hoping when life’s voyage is ended— We may find an entrance there :

. Pre-Historic. Discoveries, ‘Curious facts relating to a pre-his-toric age crowd upou us from all quarters, as the recent announcement of Professor Carl Vogt, made at the Scientific Congress at Innsbruck, that the culiivated plants in the Swiss lake villages are now discovered to bé of African, and to a great extent Egyptian origin, tending to show that our civilization came not from Asia, hut from Afriea! What a vast region for thought and speculation is opened for asimple announcement like this. Still more remarkable are the discoveries in the voleanic islands of Santorid and Therasia, in the Archipelago. Here the clearing away of a bed of tufa, to make cement for the use of the Suez canal works, has revealed a whole series of villages and dwelling-places, tull of implements and the remains of a people during the Stone Age, who were destroyed by some great convulsion of nature. . :

If there is one spot in the world where every inch of ground has been historically surveyed, that epot is cerrainly Rome ; but t.lJe explorations of Mr. J. H. Parker (the English Gothic author) throw a new liight on it& origin and early history. Hesays: “What [ saw at first dimly and obscurely, I now see clearly, that the city of Rome was built upon the great earthworks of the primitive fortifications, which have governed the E’)]an of the city, and have had great influence on the sites and plans of the principal buildings. These gigantic earthworks consisted, like other primitive fortifications, of scarpe cliffs, of terraces and trenches. These pi‘Emitive fortifications are very, muc*x _obliterated by having been built: over for many centuries, but recent demolitions have brought to light the original work.” | Theee interesting discoveries illustrate the use that people are now making of their eyes, enlivened by comparative research in various countries. and tend to preserve intact the tangible relics of a pre-historic civilization.

A GREAT many boys complain that there are no places. Perhaps it is hard to get just such as you like. - But when you get a place—and there are places—this big country, we are sure, has need of every good boy and girl, and man' and woman iin it—when you get ‘a place, we say, make yourself useful in it; make yourself so necessary, by your fidelity and good behavior, that they cannot do without you. Be willing to take a low price at first, no matter what the work is if it be honest work. Do ‘it well; do it the very .est you can. Begiu at the very lowest round of the ladder, and climb up. The great want anywhere is faithful, capable workers. They are never a drug in the market. Make yourself one of these, and there will always be a place for you, and a good one tooo. i

In the early part of the great rebellion, when the rebels were very desirous of obtaining possesion of Fortress Monroe, the £ouisville Journal suggested that, | under cover. ot some dark night, they smuggle Floyd into the fort by means of a small boat, and he would steal it from them. It now says : Small-pox is spreading in New York City. If Corbin re:l?y wishes to keep out of the hands of the Gald Panic Investigating Committee, he ought to take it anyhow. ‘

Orebillion, the French dramatist, annoyed to see his son adopt a literary 1 career, exclaimed to him petulantly:. “T'wo things I sorely regret, that 1. have written my last tragedy and begotten you.” “Don’t feel any uneasiness on that score,’ replied the dutiful young man; “for it is currently reported that you are the author of neither the one nor the other.” ~ ' TEACHER~-“Come here, {ou young scamg and get a sound span 1 R Scholar—*You. hain’t got no right to spank me, and the copy you set sayﬁno.'?:e jef B 3 BEOLIT WG R " TPeachier<=+l should like to~ hear you tead that copy.”- © . - Scholar (i&géz&f'w “all the ends. thon aimest at be thy cotntry’s.”

LIGONIER, IND., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 23, ILS7O.

¢ ¢ On Being Born, Among all the grievances that are being attacked on every side, with more or less success, I do not remember to have seen: any place given to one which, for its importance and universal pressure, most certainly deserves attention. I mean the grievance involved in the conditions under which we are born. ¢ o oust consider the case. You are never consplted about the matter, nor even informed of it at all, but it is all arranged behind your back, and one fine morning you find yourself pitchforked into the world whether you will or no; while, by a refinement of irony, the event is- often made a subject of rejoicing. Can anything be more unfair? = It would all be very well if the world were a decent place to live in, bat we know from the universal testimony of moralists and philosophers, let -alone our own -experience, that it, is nothing of the kind; and it is certain that anybody with an average amount of common sense would at least think twice before being willing ly brought iuto it, while it iz more than probable that many would, if they could, unhesitatingly refuse to be subjected to such a trial. Suppose that a hundrad years ago the case had been put to you thus: s ~ “There is a place called the earth; a vale of tears, the ouly reil and pal pable products of which are wickedness ‘and disappointment, unrelieved save by pleasures of the most fleeting and unsatisfactory character. If you go to this place you will be received not with hospitality, but' with coldness at best, probably with cruelty, and vour whole existence,will be passed in a state of warfare with the rest of the inhabitants, Will you then be born 7 ‘Had this question been put to me I should most unhesitatingly; have replied in Ihe negative, and the longer 1 live the more clearly I see how unfair it is that I should not havc had the option given me of doing so. i It may be said, however, that it is necessary that the world should be peopled. Without at all admitting that it be a necessity, I must say] that even if it be such, even it be requisite that we be born somehow and =omewhere in order to make up the population, then, at all events, the least tuat could have been done for us would have been to allow us a choice of circumstances. . For not only are we ‘born against our own inclination, but we are not-even allowed to choose our own fathers and mothers, nor even age or country. ' The result is, that the great majority of people are born at ‘the wrong' time, in the wrong place, and'by the wrong perents, and that these original mistakes make successful Ife an ntter impossibility. | And yet by another piece of irony we are all of us expected to celebrate the time, to love the place, and to honor and obey our parents which have thus been imposed upon us, and to prefer them to all those others which would have been so much more appropriate. Surely it is'no slight grievance this, but what makes it- all the heavier is that it is not inh modern times held allowable to shake off conditions which have been thus compulserily imposed. “Above all things,” said _Epictetus, “remember that the door is open,” and thig, no doubt, so long as it was admitted, was a good answer. to those who might corplain. But the door is now declared to be shut, nnd those who would pass out ot it are confront: ed, not only by the reprobation which the Christian religion has attached to such a passage, but by the terrors of actual fine and imprisonment. Thus, then, we are bounded on all sides by an iron circle.; Brought into our spheres compulsorily, and maintained therein arWitrarily, there is no escape; and yet, with all this, we are held to be liable to blame if we fail to fill creditably a situation which we have not chosen, from which we cannot escape, and which in most cases is the case of of all others for which are the least suited.— London Vanity Fair. '

ONLY a tray sunbeam ! Yet perg chance it has cheered some wretched abode, gladdened some stricken heart, or it golden light-has found its way through “the léafy branches of some wild wood, kissed the moss-covered bank where the tiny violets grow, added shades of beauty to adorn its lovely form. Ounly a gentle breeze! But how many aching brows hath it fanned, how many hearts been cheered by ite genial touch? Only a frown! But it left a sad, dreary ache in that child’s heart, and the quivering lip and tearful eyes told %ow keenly he felt it. Only a smile! Bat ah! it cheéred the broken heart, engendered a ray of hope and cast a halo of light around the unbappy patient; a bed-ridden one forgot his present ago ny for a moment in warmth of the sunshine. Only a word of encouragement—a single word ! It gives to the drooping ‘spirit new life, and the steps press on to victory.

Gen. Ord, of San Francisco, has in his*possession the identical table on which Gen. Lee signed his surrender to Gen. Grant—a plain, square mahogany table, with a marble top.— Gen. Ord purchased. this table, after some persuasion, from the owner of the house where the memorable event occurred. After he had offered to Furchase it, and the owner had reused, the latter came to him and asked the protection of a guard to save his property from the pillagers, saying he would let the Genersl have the coveted table if he would grant the degired protection. . Gen. Ord replied : “You shall have the protection. you ask without the conditions you name. Whether you sell me the table or not has nothing to do with that.” Tm. pressed with the magnanimity of the General the Virginia farmer parted with his. table, tbésGédeFal ‘paying him his own price, for it.

A pleasant eheerful wife is a rainbow in the sky, when her husband’s mind is tossed iy storms and tempests; and darkened indeed must be the spirit from which the radiance of affection and tenderness does uot dispel the gloom, -

Girls, Don’t Talk Slang. Girls, don’t talk slang. Ifit is necessary that any one in the family should do that, let your big brother, though I would advise him not to talk “pigeon English” when there is an elegant systemizefl language that he can just as well ase. ' But don’t you do it. You bave no idea how it sounds to ears unused or averse to it, to hear a young lady, when she is asked to attend some place of amusement, answer: “ Not much;” or if requested to do something she does not wish to—“Can’tgeeit!” Not long ago I heard a young misg—who is _educated and accomplished, say) in epeaking of a young man, thatshe intended to “go for him !” and fvhen her sister asked her assistance #t some work, she answered —+*Not for Joe!” -

Now, ladies of unexceptional char- | acter and really good egn(:ation. fall into this habit, thinking it shows smartness to answer back in slang phrase ; and they soen slip flippantly from their tongues with a sauncy pert- | ness that is not ladylike or becoming. Young men who talk in that way do not care to hear it from the lips they love or admire. Itsounds much coars- | er then. : ' “I bet,” or “You bet,” is well l ‘enough between men who are trading. horses or lands, but the contrast is ;startling and positively shocking when l’a,young man is holding the hand of his ladylove, to hear those words issue from her lips. They seem at once to gurround her with the rougher associ- ] ations of his daily life, and bring her | down from the pedestal of purity | ‘whereon he had placed her, to his own | ' coarse level. : g E |

And really slang does not save timeé in use of language, as an abbreviative No! ir shorter and more decided than “not much,” and “I am sure” is quite as easily said as “I’ll bet!” g’[ore than one promised wedding has been indefinitely postponed by such means ; for, however remiss young men may be themselves, they look for better things in the girls of their choice;; and it does not help them to amend a bad habit to adopt it too. Besides, two wrongs never make a right. I know the bright eyed girl who reads this will think the matter over and:say that I am right. : eel < B— A Double Hit. * The following has a very wide application, and will be read with a smile of appreciation by both sexes: ' - HUSBAND TRAVELING. SCENE L—Room, hotel; spittoons full of cigar stumps ; bonrban whisky; all hands equipped for a night’s spree ; husbapd in a hurry to be off, writing home : ° i “DEAR SUSIE: My time is 8o occupied with business that I can hardly write to you. 'Oh! 'darling, how I miss | you; and the only thing that gustains me during my absence is the thought that every moment thus spent is for the benefit of my dear wife and children. Take good care of yourself, my dear. Feed the baby on one cow’s milk. Excuse haste, &ec. A . WIFE AT HOME. , SCENE 2.—Parlor ; all the gas lit; thirteen grass widows; Fred, from around the corner, with his violin; Jack from across the way, with his bacjo; Jack, from above, ‘with his guitar; Sam, from below, with his flute; lots of other fellows, with theix nstruments ; dancing and singing; gideboard covered with nuts, fruits, cake, cream, wine, whisky, &ec.; wife in a hurry, waiting to dance, writing to her husband : N “DEAR HUBBY: How lonesome I feel in your absence. The hours pass tediously. Nobody calls on me, and I am constantly thinking of the time when you will be at home, and your cheerful countenance light up the now dreary routine of daily life. My household dutiés keep me constantly employed. I am living a 8 economical as possible, knowing that your small income will not admit of frivolous expense. | Bat, now, dear, I will say ‘good bye, or I will be too late for the monthly concert of prayer. In haste, yours, &e.” : '

NoO woman should wear her garter below the knee. . More than this, it has serious consequences of another kind, The prin¢ipal vein of the leg (vena sapnena brevis) runs just beneath the 'skin until it nearly reaches the knee when it sinks beneath the muscles.. Now, if this is constricted at its largest part-by a tight garter, the blood is checked in its return to the heart, the feet are easily chilled, and more liable to disease, the other veins of the leg are swollen 'into hard, blue knots, become,_ varicose, as it is called, and often break, forming obstinate ulcers. This is a picture which a physician sees nearly every day. Witg the garter fastened above the knee all this pain and deformity are avoided. -

There is physician in this city who is hale and hearty at the advamced age of seventy-three, and who for the past twenty years, has not slept in a bed, or taken his meals at regular hours. He has but one regular habit, that of drinking about a quart of‘the best rhine wine daily. 'When disposed to eat, he does so, and when night comes, he rests in a large arm chair, taking cat naps of about an hom’s duration each, and keeps the gas lighted in his chamber for the enjoyment of reading each time he awakes. He does mot attribute his enjoyment of health so much to his °pecuﬂar habits 18 he does to the fact that he has never been seduced into taking upon himself the full responsibilities of life, by becoming a benediet.—lndianapolis Sentinel. borann | h : s A correspondent hag sent a piece of poetry with these words: : “The following lings were written more than fifty years ago, by one who has for many years slept in his grave merely for his own azhusement.” b i : ~ “Lenny; you're apig,” said a father to his little five;year old boy.—~ “Now, do you know what a pig is, Leu_uz??’ . “Yes; sif; a pig'sa hog’s little boy.” o

. Hadn’t Jined Yem Yet. We heard a good thing recently that every member of Free and Accepted Masons will be apt to have a good laugh over, and for that we send it out on its travels: : - A rather verdant young man whose features exhibited every symptom of having been slightly tinge(g7 with the emerald, lately entered a jewelry store in New York, and gazing earnestly /into the show case, remarked: . “You've got a heap. of mighty pretty breast-pins thar, mister. What mought “you tax for ’em 1" ~ “What sort of a pin would you like to look at 7" inquired the merchant. - “Well, I dunno!” said the visitor, pointing to a plain masonic pin, (the compass and square), “how much is that yere?” : ! “Five dollars only, sir,” was the reply. “It’s a very fine pin, eighteen carat gold, and—" R : “You heven'’t got ary one-with a little gold hand-saw laid, acroes it, hev you?" interrupted the would-be purchaser. i “I believe not eir,”’ eaid the merchant. ' @ -

“Wish yer had, it would suit me exactly. I'm jest out of my time, and gwine 'to set up as a carpenter and “Jiner, and I thought I'd like some sort of & sign to wear about me, 8o folks would have an idee who I was. What do you tax for that ar pin you’ve got yer hand on ¥’ » “Seven dollars, sir,” said the merchant producing a compass and square surrounding the letter G.. . “Seven dollare eh !’ said the youth, “I’ll take it—sorry you didn’t have the hand-saw, though. But I reckon everybody 'll understand it. The compass, to measure out the work, and the square to see it's all right after it’s done ' measured ; and every durned fool orter to know that G allus stands for gimlet!” S i

{ The Blue Bl ‘ds Out. . This unparalleled winter’ seemed . to reach its “grand climacteric’’ of balmy spring-like mildness on Sunday, when the long six weeks “spell” of early April weather culminated in a day even ‘more spring-like than any of its half-a-hundred predecessors. The morning was likeone in early April, with a temperature of 50 before 9 o’clock ; and by noon it was 55, with a aoti. bland air, like that of Florida, blowing from the south-west. In the guburbs of the city there were here and there to be heard the note of the blue bird, sounding like the closing days of March. No frost remains in the ground ; and bit little has got in, this winter—for when there were three or four cold mornings, in the first part of December, there was snow enough on the ground to keep it from freezing much. Hundreds of farmers in Connecticnt have been ploughing in their fields. Violeta are in blossom, in some gardens.— Hartford (Conn.) Timse, Jan. 26.

| , * The Climate,. ‘ Some negroes that had mastered the Irish brogue played a trick on a boat ’ load of emigrants who was so eager to set foot on the Boil of the New Warld ' that they had lefi the ship before their companions. ‘“An’ are ye just over boys 7’ said a' jet black African, in the richest posgible brogue, and with the warmest interest, as he bent over the wharf where he and his comrades were working. The strangers regarded them with a:look of mingled as‘tonishment "and terror, while one of 'them found breath to inquire, “An’ how is if’that ye're black ’ *lt’s the climate, boys ; it’s all in the climate,” was the answer. ‘‘An’ how long did it take,” said the anxious spokesman, | “to make you this color!’ “Three _years, an’ niver a bit longer.” . “Thin bedad, boys,’’ said the Paddy to his countrymen, “bedad, boys, let’s go ' back ; iv’s too soon to be divils: enfieblys” e g o -

: el & P The Suex Canal,, The whole course of the canal from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea ir exactly 160 kilometers or 100 miles. It has an average width of 328 feet, the width at the base is 246 feet, and the depth of the water is 26 feet. The ocean screw steamships are about 45 feet in the beam; ans our large paddle wheel steamships are 85 feet in the widest. Most large English vessels draw about. 24 to 35 feet of water, but the tendency is now in favor of vesgels of light draught. These particulars will show the capacity of the canal. The entire cost of the general construction to June 30, 1869, was $55.000,000 in gold.’ 'l‘ht;impnlation of the Isthmus has increased from 150 in 1849 to 50,000 in 1869.

- Mark Twain's Fortune. A celebrated fortune teller of the Hub told Mark’s fortune the other| day, as follows : Yours was not in the beginning . criminal natare, but circumstance changed it. At the age of nine yo stole sugar; at fifteen you stole money; at twenty you stole horses; at twenty-five you .committed arson; at thirty —hardened in ‘crime—you - be‘came an editor. Since then your descent has been rapid. You are now a public lecturer. 'Worse things are in store for you—yon will be sent to Congress ; next to penitentiary ; and finally happiness will come to you, again—all will be well you will be hanged ! * ———e— A GoOoD GUlDE.—Every young man is eagerly a;kin'% the best way of getting on in life. The Bible gives a very brief answer to the question : «Walk in the way of good men, and keep the Eatha_ of .the righteons.”— Many books of advice and direction ‘Have been written but that is the gist of themall. = = : Holiness is ‘the beauty of God impressed upon the soul, and the impres. sion is everlasting. Other beauty is ‘but a;'f@dfédii.ﬂé!ef‘s, tﬁgf ;gﬂ “'xtﬂgﬁsh ‘up deep furrows upon the fairest face ; , A nagtog ustice in Florida gives divorces for $5, and takes store pay. -

r ‘A DYING CONFESSION. 1 B{' HELLEN MORELAND. - “u Hellen,i child, come closer to me, it is getting- so dark tkat I cannot see your sweet young face. There, lay your cool hand on my brow, littleone, for my brain is on fire. | What an awful, awful night 't is? The ﬁind goes howling around the house like a mad demon. You are here yet; aren't‘you,- Hellen? Don't go away, darling, all will soon be over, and you are the only oie that cares for me, you will not leave me, will you? O!'it would be terrible to die alone.” - * Father, darliog father,” I murmared, bending over the poor old man and wiping the death-dew from his pale, cold brow—*“don’t talk so, please don’t. - You little know how ~much you are paining me.” i i “Oh, Hellen, I cannot help it,” he said wearily. My life has been a fearfully wicked one, it is no wonder that I am suffiring now. I know that lam dying to-night—that I shall never see the ligbt._ of another day ; so sit down here, child, for I bave a story to tell you, a fearful confession to make, before I die.”

“Poor, lf;])or father!” I said, pityingly, thinking that he wasdelirious. He turned his great, sad eyes towards me, ard for a moment tH{e wild, weary look left them. “My darling! it does me a world of good to have you eall me by that dear. name,” He said softly. “But lam not your fathir“—m‘y wife, the gentle faced woman who wag always so good and kind to you, wg,s not your mother. You never knew it, did you® No;. I have guarded my secret well, all these years; Ha! ha!” he hug_heé wildly. < Iwassure no living soul could find it out ; but the time has come wbin it must be divulged; I dare not gn down to the dark, and gloomygrave um‘Ll‘l_have told you all. Promise that you will not curse mé when you have beard my story, Heilen—that you will try to forgive me when I am gone.” “I do promise!” I replied husky with emotion: | For a few moments all was silent in thL room. The old man lay back on his pillow, with closed eyes and white, quivering lips.” ; “Hellen,” he said at last, opening his eyes wearily. - “ You were my only sister’s child—my ‘proud, beautiful sister, how she loved lyou! Sixteen long years have passed since that awful night-when Isaw her for the last time; sixteen years fraught only witi the most terrible anguish and remorse for me. How her cold, dead face haunts me to-might! O, God? if I could only forget! I have known no peace 'no rest, from that time 'to this” = . Againuzhe beavy lids fell over the deathdimmed eyes and I knew that memory was holding visions of the past before the dying man. Presently he aroused again, glancing around the darkening room, and then resamed his narrative.

“Isora and I were the only children born to our parents. She was several years younger than I, and but five years old Whei father and mother died. My uncle took her to his house immediately, and then soon afterwards I went to sea.— Twelve years passed before I again saw my sister, In that time, she had cnanged from a pretty, winning child, into a ¢loriously beautiful woman. : A grand, proud face was hers, no description could give you half an idea of her :great beauty.— You are like her, Hellen, very ‘much like her! but your face lacks the sublime grandeur which characterized hers. Yours has a patient, subdued: look ; hers was proud, passionate and full- of tropical Spleudor? We were very happy in each others society for a while. She did not koow what a reckless, dissipated life I was leading; nor how freely I indulged in the wine-cup, But at last, rumors of my dissoluteness began to reach her.— Poor girl! it almost broke her heart when she knew the terrible tiuth. The brother | whom she had thought so thoroughly/:- noble and upright; whom she had trusted and loved more than life itself—he a libertine \and gambler? No! a thousand times no! sbe would never believe anything of the kind ! And then she would throw herlarms about my neck, beseeching me in the most piteous manner to tell her the shameful story was fal e. I dared not deny my guilt with those pure truthful eyes searching mine, 8o I remained silent. . Poor sister! she interpreted my silence aright, and sinking into a chair she covered her face with her hands, her girlish form quivering with emotion. I never saw any one so entirely overcome by grief. She suffered as only a proud, high-minded woman can suffer.” “‘Poor, poor sister " I murmured, bend-. ing over her and smoothing the waves of dark ‘hair from her pale, broad brow. ““Will you forgive me if I will try to do better in the future?” She looked up quickly, wistfully.r : ~ “IYes, a thousand times yes! my dear, dear brother !' she answered eagerly. “‘Then I promise you, sweet sister, that I will try to l?ve a better life for tim¢ to come, now shall we be friends again?” For answer she’ p'lt' up her red, ripe lips for a kiss. So it was peace between us once more, and for a time I kept my promise. Soon after this Isora married a young sea Captain by name of Robert Granger. She made an excellent choice, for a better, truer-hearted man never lived. But r fellow, befure- two years rolled around he left hLis fair young wife and child, and went in search of the beautiful land beyond the stars. For a time sora was inconsol!able; it seemed as tho’ he could mever forget her great loss.— /But such stormy passionate sorrows could not last forever; at last it was spent, and one would hardly have recognized in the pale, hollow-eyed woman the bright merry creature of a few months before,

“‘Henry, my brother, you must come to | me now, . shesaid, ‘come and stay with me until you get.a home of your own. I have no one in the great wide world to love and care .for but you and bsby,'sb! please/don’t refuse my request.’ | There was such s wistful, pleading look ‘in ker dark eyesas she said this, that I could not deny her, although I did not quite.like the idea of going; she lived two or three miles from the city, and country life was very distasteful to me then. But to please bher I said ‘yes,’ and ‘was amply rewarded for the sacrifice 1 was about to make, by the glad, thankful { look which came into her eyes. For a time I was quite happy and contented in my sister’s home; but at last I be§an to | weary of the restraint and louged for my old freedom. It was so different from the: wild, excising life'T had hitherto led, at times' I almost hated the peaceful tranquility which always reigned in the little ‘cottage. At last there came a time when I forgot the solemn promise I had made my noble sister—forgot everything that makeslife pure and good —and went back to my bad, reckless' habits again. I re: ceived & warm welcome from my old associates with ‘'whom I bad had little or no intercourse during the past two years — Isora seldom went out, and received no. company ; consequently some time passed | before. she knew of my downfall. = She ‘believed me—-‘mor. loving, trusting sis: ‘ter—when I told her it was urgent busi‘ness which kept me in the city the great. er part of the time, And always, no matter how late at night I returned home, “that sweet, pale face would bo at the door ‘'to smile. me & welcome, ' Aund yet, Hellen, there were times when I almost hated

No. 43.

this noble true-hearted woman—hated her because she seemed so pure and good when compared withme. .| - i fiy “ Ove night, after spending the day in gambling' and carousing, I went home much earlier than u,suaﬁ I had experienced heavy losses at the gambling table that day, and, as usual, was feeling sullen and ill-natured. - When Isora’ miet me at the door, 1 hardly noticed her tender greeting, but strode past: her and hurried up to my room. As Soon as supper was over I put on my overcoat and hat, for 1 had resolved to go back and endeavor to regain some of the money I had lost daring the day. Hellen/left her work, came to-my side and clasping her hands on my shoulder and: looked inquiringly up into my face. : R ) “ ‘O, brother, must you go out again? she asked sadly.’ ‘Please stay at home to night; it seems 8o lonely for me: here alone’ -.- S : F “‘I cannot, Isora, I replied, looking down to avoid the searching dark eye.— ‘Business must be attended to, you know. You needn't sit up for me for I shall re main in the city over night.’ = =, She looked disappointed and sad. “ ‘Henry, I am tired of this way of liying,’ she said wearily. ‘You are away from howme nearly all the time; and when you are here you are so »ilent and gelmmy' and act 8o s%gely that I cannot be happy with you. * I rexlly wish your business did not require so much: attention.”. ““‘Don’t annoy me,’ I replied pettishly. ‘T am sorry, .ot course, to leave you alone so much, but I cannot help it;- ‘And now good: night, for I must be’going.” - ~ “Well, give just one kiss, then you may go. It has been along. time:sinc: you kissed me, Henry,’ sbe replied, wiping the glistening tears from her éyes. ““I bent . over and | touched my lips to hers, forgetting that my breath was poluted with the foul liquer. - I'had drank.— She pushed n:e from kier and stood ‘looking at me, surprise and grief plainly depicted on her eountenance. - : “‘O! Henry! you have broken your promise—you have been drinking again!’ she said, her voice quivering with emotion.

“‘I took one drink’ with a friend, that | was all," I replied. T S “‘You have taken more than one drink - to-day, Henry Atherton, and I think<! understand now what keeps you from home 8o much of the ‘time—not business, but liquor,— accursed- liquor !’ she cried hoarsely., ‘I believe you are just as dissipated as'you were before you made me that promise.’ P 4 “““Well, it is none of -your business if T do drink,’ 1 replied sullenly, ‘what right | have you to intérfere? - - l “‘lt is my business, Henry; and I have a right, a sister’s right to interfere when I see my only brother hurrying on to destruction.’ T : : “‘I recognize no.such right,’ I sneered, ‘T'll never be tied to any woman's.apronstrings. . And as it is get.tiu%. late'and T ; am’in something of a -hurry, I shall have ! to deny myself the pleasure of hearing | your lecture until some other time. - Good: | night, and - happy dreams, sweet,” I said, | walking towards the dcor. { “The pale face grew a shade paler, and | a firm, resolute look came into the dark | eyes. . ; g 4 “ ‘Heary, you shall not leave thie house ; ‘again -to-night,” and before I could prevent her she sprang to the door and locked | it, taking out the key. - - . . N 2 . “‘Are you a mad woman ?- T almost | ‘shouted, s(izing her violently by the arm. | ‘How dare you attemptito hinder me from | 'going? Give me the key_instantly, or you'll regret it!" : “‘I will not give it to.you,’ she replied | fearlessly. Gl o ; 7Y " “ By this time I was nearly frantic. I “‘You wench; I shouted hoarsely, ‘give | me the key or you shall suffer for it.— | Will you give it to me?*" holding out my | hand. L, | i T “‘No, came from the white, resolute ' lips. . An D i ; “‘Then abide the consequence.’” And, | Ob! may Heaven forgive me, I knew not | what I was doing, I was maddened, crazed. | Seizing a carving knife which lay on the | supper table, I held it over her head, shak: ing it threateningly. . ,’ “‘Oh! my Ged! 'would youmurder me, | Henry,' she gasped. = . A “Those were the last words that-cver | passed the white, trembling lips; the | _next moment the murderous knife descend - | ed and was. buried in her fair young bo- | som. - With a low moan .she sank to the | floor, her life-blood flowing from a terri- | ble wound. When I -knelt beside her, ithe loving, passionate heart had ceased to beat, and the white" lids were closed forever over the dusky eyes. Looking duwn i into that dead face, I began to realize | what 1 had done—murdered my only sis | ter! Oh! the great billows of anguish | and remorse that swept over my sinful - soul at this moment* How I'longed for | death; but I hadn't’ courage enough to end my wretched life. I'dared not go before the great: judgment seat with this awful, awful crime darkening my soul.— For three long hours I remained there by - the dead, chafing her pale, cool hands, | kisging her lips and entreating her to for- | give me for killing her. But at last the | thought of my crime being discovered, ,came to haunt my brain, And straight. | ‘way there arose before my mind's eye a vision of the grim galiows, surrounded by a crowd of gaping spectators ; and the | doomed man sat pale and trembling with | the fatal noose dangling before his eyes | was strangely like me. A 3 . %‘Oh! I cannot, dare not, meet death! t I cried wildly. - ‘Before to-morrow comes I must be far away from here, where suspicion cannot reach me.’ - I was 8o excited when Tsora locked the front door, that-I | never once thought of making my egress by the door which opened into the wood -shed ;, now I went to it and” turned the knob, but to my - disappointment I found . this locked also, and the key, I knew, was attached to theone Isora had -hidden.—'l ‘They must de concealed somewhere about her person,’ I thought, = “&» - 12 Taking :the lamp, I knelt beside her’ and after searching for a few minutes, found the keys in her dress sleeve.: - “‘And’ now, what can I do with' this %hastly thing ¥’ I thought, rising to my . eet and looking down at the dead body. ‘lf it is found_here, I shall be suspected | immediately, for every one knows what & reckless, dissipated wretch I am.’ I paused for a moment. to consider what was best to do, then ,cros'sipg the room, I unlocked “the back door and went out.- Not far from the house wasa well. To this 1. went, and leaning against the curb, looking down into it, ‘lt will do, I eaid at:{ last, absently, and goli)?)% ‘back, Itied a. long rope around the ¥, then taking { it into my arms, carried it out. ‘When 1 reached the well, I lifted my ghastly barden over “ the side and lowered it Qvlowly ‘ down. When it reached the water, I threw the rope in after it then m& horri--'ble: work was done, < ‘And all this has beeu caused by,cgrsed.‘liqnqt;li Isaid, and iy heart was foll of sorrow as I stood ‘looking dawn into the cold, ‘dark well, ‘now a grave, ‘Oh! if T enuld' ooly undo thissnight's work, and restore life to my ‘beautiful gister,’ I cried in anguish. ‘You less now ; but T swenr before God and the angels that I will never taste dnothier drop of the accursed stuf whithhuun‘im to murder my best earthly friend.’ I maid

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this solemnly, reverently, and then went back into the house, closing snd locking the door, . ! Loy ~After diaFuiting myself as much as possible to avoid recogrition, I took my ‘valisc in my hand and was about to icave the house ; when a faint cry from an adjoining room arrested my st?e. ‘O, God! my sister's child,’ I exclaimed, ‘lt will die, if left here slone; and going into the room I took the babe from the cradle, hushing it to sleep again in my arms.— ‘You shall go with me, little one, I said tenderly-—'go with me to keep me in re‘membrance of the terrible crime I have this night committed.” SoI put a large shawl around the sleeping .babe, to protect it from thecold, and taking it in my arms left the house. | I dido’t know what I could do with the poor, motherless little thing, but I wouldn't leave it there all alone to perish. On my arrival in the city, I took the firet train going west, and when morning dawned was many miles away from my late home. - “ Baby was a delightful traveling companion, remaining quiet nearly all of the time, and making a great many friends. All of 'these friends, as a matter of course,supposed me to be the child’s father, and I did not’ take the trcuble to undeceive them. And to those who were anxious to know what had become of its mother, 1 morely' ropliod that sho wae Aaad, and said no more abont the matter. At the close of the day I stopped at a little village on the Ohio River to rest a short time -before continning my journey. I went to the only hetel the town afforded and immediately after my arrival, handed baby over to the tender care of mine host's pretty daughter. In a very short timethey were firm-friends, the motherly, ten-der-hearted girl shedding tears over baby's forlorn condition: = She scemed so good and affectionste, and'loved the poor little thing so well, that I asked her to be a mother to it, ‘the day before I came away. = To my surprise she consented ; so we were married that night. When I requested her to call the little one her own, she yielded a ready acquiescence, although deeming it a somewhat singular request. The next day, accompanied by my youn wife 4nd the baby-—you, dear Hellen—% came to Indiana. And here, a sorrowing and repentant man, I have lived out my days; no one, not even my gentle, loving - wife, sharing my secret. Through all I have faithfully kept the promise I made to my dead sister, and never once im;ve 1 been tempted to break it. And Hellen, dear child, the large fortune I have amassed will all be yours when lam gone.— - Now pray for me; youare pureand good and ffe&ven will hear- your prayers.” : And the old man ceased speaking, clasping his hands and turned his dim eyes heavenward. | All the time while listening to his terrible story, I had remained silent, not being able to utter a single syllable, in 'my astonishment and horror. But now I. knelt and prsged' #olemnly, earnestly in behalf of the dy’x;ﬁ man. For a time, the pale lips repeat parts of the prayér after me, but at last they were silent, and I thought the sufferer had fallen asleep. The wind went sweeping by with one long, mournful wail that sounded like a human voice in pain; and then followed silence which was like unto the silenice of the grave.— I arose from my knees, shivering, not with cold, but with an undefined dread of something, I knew not what. By this time I had succeeded in overcoming the feeling of loathing .which had entered my beart while listening to the old man's story, and bending over the bed I kissed his brow, mnrmuring ‘softly the name he loved so-well—‘“Father!” There was no response, Bnd his forehead was icy cold.— Then I knew that the grim messenger of Death had come whilel had been praying, and that the form which slept there so peacefuily, was only a-dead form.

Grant in Another Dishonorable Speé. ; ulation. Gen. Grant, it 18 well known, with a most unbecoming taste, offered for sale the house and lot given him for a homestead in Washington. Sayles J. Bowen, the Mayor of the city of Weashington, became the purchiaser, paying one thousand dollars to bind the contract for conveyance of the property tq him at the specified time. In the meantime Gen. Grant ° was offered twenty-five thousand dollars more for the property than he had agreed to sell it for, and accepted the same, and - made the deed of conveyance to Gen. ' Sherman, for whom it: had been purchass ed as a gift. Now, Gen. Grant repairs to Mr. Bowen, and makes s scapegoat of his wife, just as was charged upon him in his . gold speculation by saying that shere - fused to sign the deed, and asks to be released fram the contract, and though a thousand dollars had .becn paid upon it, yet the record of thé transaction now on file, shows that for, and in consideration of one dollar and the desire of Gen. Grant, said contract is cancelled, and SaylesJ. Bowen conveys to Gen. Sherman all his rights under said contract to the premises. which Gen. Sherman had purchased.— Now what was the consideration that led Mr. Bowen to sacrifice one thousand dollars paid, o say nothing of the twentyfive thourand dollars that Gen. Grant pocketed, and upon which at a suit-of equity he could have recovered? It appears that the consideration was that Mr. Bowen should -control. all the Federal patronage ﬁn the District of 'Columbia. At his solicitation Edwards was appointed Postm;teter, though the office had been : promised| to 'and the commission -made out for a%other man. So all, the other offices there, in the gift of the’ President, were committéd to Mr. Bowen for his friends. To say mnothing of tHe character of a man who would violate his .contract for a larger price, what is to beiﬂmught of a President who would barter away the Federal patronage to relieve him:eif from a pecuniary obligation® Would not such buying and selling cause any member of Congress to be expelled from his seat? It neeq not be said the 365.00 g ‘paid‘to Gen. Grant was a fancy price, an that Mr. Bowen could not have sold the house for that sum ; for if such plea were valid, it places Gen. Grant’in the still worse position of accepting from Mr. Stewart, by whom a great portion of the Sherman fund was furnished, this handsome little some of twenty-five thousand dollars, whom but a short time afterwards he appointed as Secretary of the Treasury.. The whole matter has a bad look, and we see not how the most enlarged charity can explain it away.— New Albany Ledger. SpeA : : i S ' The Waterloo City 4ir Line has the following weighty item: We have 15 men in this vicinity who stand ready to act as jurors, and who are duly qualified, whose names and weights are’ g-tonows o ‘Wellington M. Farrington, 210; Leonard .Stqybaugh;;sg(!; - Geo. Frick, 238; Solomon Brandebury, 815; David A. Shoemaker, 310; Samuel Wiltrout, 215: Arthur Ed%eirl’fy;‘m'; Solomon Stough, 285; ?t%higx‘ , G%m, ‘mzi ? . Hall, 2007 . B. Hoover,2B6; Benjamin Brandebury, 240; O. H. Leas, 210; Sylvester S, Fitch, 237, Aggregate, 4,186 bs. . Average, 279 pounde, | L laiiey 2 fow Bk i _ Tan muer placo it tawa to bay a good ;at Canfield & Emery'nbaot:and shoe-es tablishment, on Cavin street. = .