Noble County Register, Volume 1, Number 3, Ligonier, Noble County, 18 February 1858 — Page 1

JLOOLe CONMNLY Jmeqrsier,

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- .Noble County Register ISPUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY uoume BY kit ol PALMITER & Co. .« | Orrice—ln Fisher's Block, 2d Story, C-rner of Cavin sud Third Stréets—entrance on Third. - ot - “TwrMS-—51,50 per annum in advance;. if xiot - peid until thefexmn of six mb:gs. -OT o B gl Sréeeaiant 1 Y ' In all its'various branches exccuted with s and : mfwmo'fgﬁmgxx Office. w m . Physician & Surgeon, _ LIGONIER, = = INDIANA. ing recently located in Ligonier, will atto all calls .in the lineof his profes-Office~-in the Drug Store |of O. fJ. McOONNELL, @ Estate Agent and Notary Public GQJ;IER : . INDIANA, oh : « ILI:':“ acenowledge deeds and mor{gages i and take depositions. e O PALMIEBR, oo , LIGONIER, ' ¥ i (NDIANA; ,MA"NUFACTURER'of different varieties' of ‘l'ombstones, Monuments, &ec.. En- - graving executed in the most approved style, LIGONIER, de S INDIRNA, | Dealers in Drugs, Medicines, Paints, Oils, Glass, Yankee Notions, Books, Stati%ym_xry, " 'Wall end Window Paper. &c. &c¢. Also, a large supply of €hoice Family. Groceries, constantly on hand. £ ~ i - g 8. H. ESTABROOI, | : . LIGONIER, ‘ INDIANA | 5‘ N THOLESALE and refail .dealer in i Drugs, Medicines, Paints, Oils, Glass, Dye-stufls, Perfumery, Fancy Goods, Kamily Groceries, pure Wines and Liquors, for medicinal purposes. . e - I s .A Wy D "= : ¢ o J, CYZIMMERMAN, | DEALER in Dry Goods, Groceries, Boots . and Shoes, Queens-ware, Notions, &c. > Also Dealer in all kinds of Produce, . LEWIS COVELL, . GENERAL COLLECTION AGENT. o Ligonier, : Indiana,. s COLLE(‘»TXONS in Naoble and adjoining - Counti¢s promptly made, and on reason-. able terms, ‘ » 8. J. STOUGHTON, >| ,n.wn.ﬁ\wnnw,mn. STOUGHTON & WOODWARD, Attorneys & Counsellors at Law. LIGONIER, oy INDLANA. .'WILL prompily attend to ali-business Ao Ve¥. 1 that pays; o 7 Mg e

Vv C.MAINS - ] ¥ W, BRYANT MAINS & BRYANT, Altorneys at Law, Albion, Noble Co. Ind. W ILL attend promptly to all Legal Busi- . ness ‘entrusted to their care in the courts of Noble an@ adjuini%g counties. .« J. E. BRADEN, | DEALER .in the different varieties of J. FAMILY GROCERIES, also a full assortment off Wines, Liquors, Domestic and Imported. Refrefhmeuts of all kinds alwayg onbhand:- ' .t - : & i DV RIPPERTON, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, - Lagonier, : Indiana. ,}RESP‘ECFULLY offrs. Bie profebsiohal ; services to the citizens of Ligonier and R | ' CLIFTON THOUSE. il J COTHRAN, PROPIIIEI'OR, i 1 Elkhart, e ladiana. IT HIS House is the general stage office. . A Passengers conveyed to and from the Cars free. ; . C ; L PRICKET, gﬁlbrﬂéy and Counsellor at Law,, F‘ ICE in the Court House, Albion, In- ; .’d_n‘!na_, - Prompt attention given to all ‘Legal business entrusted to his.care;

e NOTARY PUBLIC. \\rlLL _ATTENND PROMPTLY TO - all kinds of conveyanceng ane all other business appertaining to that office. - * “OFFICE over Fisher & Hosteter’s store, ‘Ligenier; Noble Co , Ind. ; i .. .= MEDICAL NOTICE. . DRSI. CARR & LO\’VEI?, LY AVING associatad themseyves together AL in the practice of MEDICINE "AND BURGERY, would inform to the cifizens of “Ligonier thatthey will give prompt attention to'all calls eitherday ar night.. <~ :,;'»:"W‘FFlCEtwo,doors _north of the drug ""HENRY HOSTETTER, WJUSTICE OF THE PEACE. I,‘aﬂk‘ﬁ‘lCEbn Main Street, Ligonier, Indi

By © LAND AGENCY, ; ?"THE ndersigned has established an' AgenA cy tlr the purchase and s# of Real es.tate in: Moble and adjoining counties, and has effected Jarrangements which offer 'superior ipducephients for those wishing to buy or sell "}al,d;' me, in this section of the State. e 110 Particular attention will be paid to Renting —¥louses, Leasing farms, and other business . which it mq{‘ be necessary for non-residents 'to'leave in the hands of an agent. 0 Y BAND WARRANTS . Bought; sold,” and obtained for those entitled _to the same under the late act of Cangress. - s g JAMES McCONNELL, uildght ! Light!! Light!!! 1 1A fine assortmenit of Oil and Fluid Lamps, yer, 1?&]:) Also, Candles—Starr, Stearine, ,m allow, by the box or peund, for sale by g N " 0. ARNOLD & Co. At i{:x y diseription and of supe ioﬂilual- -\ 4Bty constaptly on bndmdfor%c eap

%39.. The ng “reflied version” of “The House that Jack Built,” from the N. Y. mqmu, is a perfect curiosity of li re, and the best thing of the kind Wi ovir vemdsn B S LECT At g ~ The Domicile Erected by John. TRANSLATED FROM THE VULGATE OF M. GOOSE BY A. POE. Behold the reared by dmdal Jack! See thé malt g in many a plethoric sack, S Inthe proud cirque of Ivan’s bivouac. : Mark how the i'::’s' felonions invade . . The golden stores in John’s p;:'ﬁ:dn laid. ‘ Anon, with velvet foot and Tarquin strides, : - Bubtle Grimalkin to his qurryﬂglida. e Grimalkin irin’, that slew the fierce rode%t, 4 Whose tooth insiducus Johann’s sackcloth rent! Lot now the deep-mouthed eanine foe's assault, : " That vext the avenger of the stolen malt, s _Stored in thé hallowed precincts of that hall, = That rose coniplete at Jack’s creative call. ! Here stulks the impetuous cow with erumpled horn, Whereon the exacerbating hound was torn, = - Wha bayed the-feline slanghter beast, that slew : The rat predacious, whose keen fangs Tan through, - The textile fibres that involved the grain Hgs That lay in Huan's inviolate domain, i / | * Here walks the forlorn damsel, crowned with: rue, Lactiferous spoils from yeecine dugs whio drew, Of that cornicalous beast whose torturous horn | Tossed to the clouds, in-fierce, vindictive scorn, | The baying hound, whose braggart bark and stir | Arched the lithe spine-and réared the indignant far Of puss, that with vermincidal claw : Struck the weird rat, in whose insatiale maw Lay recking mult that first in Juan’s courts wé saw. Robed in sencscent gagh, that seems insooth, | Too long a prey to Cronos’ iron tooth, g Behold the man whose amorous lips incline, } Full with young ¥ros’ occulative sign, < : To the lone maid whose lact-aibic hands E Drew albu-lactic milk from lacteal glands. Of that immortal bovine, by whose%xom fo Distort, to realms ethereal was borne - The beast catulean, vexed of that sly : Ulysse quadrupedal, who made die { The old mordagious rat that Jared devour Antecedaneous ale in John's domestic bower. Lo! here, with hirsute honors-doffed succinect, ! Of eaponaceous locks, the priest-who linked 1n Hymen's golden bands tlie mwn thrift, Whose méans exiguous stured from many a rift, o Even as he kissed the virginall forlorn, g o Who milked the cow with implicated horn, Who in fierce wrath the canine torturor skied, . | That dared to vex the ‘insidious muricide, Who let auroral efiluence through t#xe pelt, ’ Of that sly rat that robbed the palace Jack had built, The'loud cantankerous Shanghai comes at last, = | Whose shouts aroused the shorn ecclesiast, : Who sealod the yows of Hymen's sacrament, ; To Bim who, robed in garments indigent, Exogculates the damsel lachrymose, ] : The emulgator of the horned bhrute norose, "fhat tossed the dog, that.worried the cat, that klt = The rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the honse that Juack built.

' From Putnam’s Magazine. UNCLE JOSH.. 4 | A NEW ENGLAND STORY. P Josh Crane was a Yankee born and bred, a farmer on Plainficld Hill, and a specimen. If some strange phrases were in his New Lngland vernagular, it was because for fifteen years of his youth he had followed “the gea; and the sea, to return the compliment, thereafter fol‘lowed him. 4 His father, old Josh Crane, kept the Sanbury grist-mill, and was a drunken shiftless old creature, who ended his days in a tumble-down red house amils bolow Flainfield Centre, being “took witlr the tremers,” as black Peter said when /e came for the doctor—all too late, for the “tremers had, indeed, taked him off. 5 , e - Mrs. Crane, our Josh’s mother, was one of those calin, meek, patient creatares, by some inserutable mystery always linked to such men ; martyrs by the pang without the palm,” of whoma noble army shall yet rise out of New England’s desolate valleys and melancholy hills, to take their honor from the Master’s hand. . For years this: woman lived alone with her child in the shattered red house, spinning, knitting, washing, sewing and scrubbing, to earn. bread and water, sometimes charity-fed; but never failing at morning and mnig .:t, with one red and knotted hand wupon her boy’s white hair, and the other on her worn: Bible, to pray, with- an intensity the boy never’ forgot, for his well-being forever and ever; for herself she never prayed aloud. =~

Then canie the couutry’s pestilence, consumption, and, after long struggles, relapses and rallies, all received in the, same calm patience, Hetty Crane died in a summer’s night, her little boy asleep beside her, and a whippoorwill on the apple tree by the door sounding on her flickering sense the lagt minor note of life. 1 * Yoy

When Josh woke up and knew his mother was dead, he did not behave in the least like good little boysin books, hut dressed himseif without a tear or a sob, and ran for the nearest neighbor. | “ Sakes alive!” said “ Misg” Banne’y.;l “] never did see such a cretur as that are boy in ‘all my days! he never said nothin’ to me when he came to our folk’s only jest—*Miss Ranney,l guess | you’d better come cross lots to see mother, she don’t scem to b alive” ¢ Dew tell” sez I, and so I slipton my Shaker bunnet jist as quick’s I could, but he: was off, spry’s a cricket, an’ when I got. "'{here he was settin’ the room to rights, e'd spunked up a fire, and hung én'the kittle : so I sed nothin’, but stept along ‘inter the bed-roomand turned down the: kiver, and gin a little screeh, I was so beat, for sure enough Heity Cranc was' dead an’ cold. - Josh heerd me, for he was clog’t onto me, and he never spoke, but he come up to the bed and ﬁe;‘ﬁuﬂ his head down and laid his check right. along hers, and’twantnoredder'n her'n, an’ staid so ’bout a minnit; then he: cleared out and I neversee him no more all day, but Miss Good’in she come in, and cho sed he'd stapped thera au' seb hBOL-OVRE, Cdiaaais ol s ik w 0 e “Well, we lid out Hatty, and fixod up mﬂmmwdmwmmﬂwm

LIGONTER, IND. THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1858.

kerlated to set up all night, and we was Jest puttin’ a mess of tea to draw so’s to keep liyely, when in come Josh, drip‘gin’ wet, for the dews was dreadful eavy them August ~ni§hts, ‘an’ he said mor’n jest to answer when he was spoken to, and as Miss Good’in was a real feelin’ woman, she guessed he’d better be/let alone; so he drink’t a cup of tea, and then 'he started off into ‘the bedroom, and when she wentin there ’long towards midnight, ' there he was, fast asleep on the'bed beside the corpse, as straight as a pin, only holdin’ on to one of its hands. Miss Good'in come back cryin’, and 1 thought I should ’a boo-hoo-ed right out, but I kinder strangled it down, and we set to work to figger out what was a goin’ to be done with the little chap; that house of their'n, that old Josh had bought of Mr. Ranney hadn’t never been paid for, only the interest money whenéver Miss Crane could scrage;”it up, so that it weuld go right back into husband’s hands, ‘an’ they hadn't got no eow, nor no pig, and we agreed the s’lectmen would hev’ to tike hincind hind Kithawt - 2

I allers mistrusted that he’d waked up and heerd 'what we said, for next mornin’ when we went to call him he was gone, and his shirts an’ go-to-meetin’s too, and he never come back to the funeral, nor a good spell after. ok I know after Hetty was buried, and we'd resolvefl to sell what things she had to get her a head stone, for Mr. Ranney wouldn’t never put in for the rest of ‘his interest money, I took home her old Bible and kep’ it for Josh, and the next time I sec him was five and twenty years after; when he come back from sea-farin’ an’ settled down to farmin’ on’t, and he sot ‘by that Bible a dredful sight, I expect, for he gin’ our Sall the brighest red an’ yeller bandanner you ever sce ; she used to keep it to take to meetin’ !’ . . I

““Miss” Ranney was certainly right in her “guess,” ‘Josh had heard in t%_at misdnight the discussion of his futurejied, having a well-founded dread of the:sflectmen’s tender mercies, had given-a last caress to his dead- mothér, and ‘run away to Boston, where he shipped for a’ whaling-voyage, was cast away on the New’Foundland shore, after ten years of sea life, and being at that time a stout youth of twenty, sick’ of his seamanship, he had hired himself to work in a stong-yard, and by the time he was thirty-five had laid up enough money. fo return 4 thrifty bachelor, and, buying a little fleld on Plainfield Hill, settled down to his ideal of ute, and became the antusement of part of the yillage, and the oracle of the rest. P

We boys adored Uncle Josh, for' he was always ready to rig our boats, spin us yarns a week long, and fill our poekets rwith apples red and russet as his own honest face. With the bélles of the village; Uncle Josh had no guch favor; he would wear a pig-tail in spite of scoff and remonstrance; he would smuke a cutty-pipe ; and he did swear like a “sajlor, from mere forgetfulness, for no min; not professedly religious, had a diviner instinet of reverence and worship than he; butit was as instinetive inhim to swear as it was to breathe, and, some of our boldly speculative and law despising youngsters held that' it was no harm in him any more than “gosh” and “thunder” were in us; for really he meant no more. ' .~ | . However, Unelg Josh did not quite reciprocate the contempt of the sex; before long he began to make Sunday night visitations to Deacon Stone’s to “brush his hato’ mornings;” to step spty, atd wear a stiff collar and stock, instead of the open tie he had kept, with the pigtail, long after jacket and tarpaulin had been dismissed the service ; so the vilInge s rodbic disebi;%:ed that Josh Crane was courting the school mistress, “Miss Eunice,” who boarded at Deacoh Stone’s: What Miss Eunice’s surname ;}jight be I never knew, nor did it much’matter; she was the most kindly, timid and lovable. c?@ature that ever tried to reduce a district school into manners and arithwicilc; she lives in my memory still, a tall, slight figure, with tender brown ’eyes,'a,n\%] 2 gad face, its -broad lovely forehead shaded with silky light hair, and her dress always dim-tinted; jaded perhaps, but scrupulously ' neat and sa-

Everybody .knew why Miss Eunice looked so meekly sad, and why she was still '« Miss” Kunice; she-had been ¢ disappointed,” she had loved a man beétter than he loved her, ana, therein copying the sweet angels, made a fatal’ mistake, broke her girl’s heart, and went to keeping school for a living. “All'the young people pitied ‘and patronized her ; all the old woman agreed | that she was . “ clever little fool !” and men regarded her with a species of wonder and. curiosity, first, for having a breakable heart, and next, for putting ‘that member to fatal harm for one o%': their kind ; but boys ranked Miss Eunice evengbove Uncle Josh; for there lives in bog#ha certain kind of chivalry, before the World has sneered it out of them, that regards a sad or injured woman ' a_oratuss laiming, all fheir care and protection ; and it was with a fhill of virtuous indignation that we

heard of Josh Crane’s intentions towards Miss Eunice; nor were we ivcér.rpiﬁful, of our old friend, when Mrs. Stone announced to old Mrs. Ranney, (who was deaf as a post, and therefore very useful passively, in spreading news confided to her, as this wasin the church porch,) that “ Miss Eunice was'n’t a going to hev’ Josh Crane, "cause he wa'n’t a professor ; but she didn’t want nobody to tell on’t,” so everybody did ! i - It was, beside, true, Miss Eunice was a sincerely religious woman, and though Josh Crane’s simple, fervent love-mak-ing had stirred a thrill within her, she had thought quits; impossibl&still, she did not think 3¢ was right to marry an irreligious man, “ﬁl&%ﬁfe told him so with a nieek firmmbss, that quite broke down poor Unele Josh, ang he went ‘back to his farming with Igofounder Tespect than ever for Migs Eunice, and a miserable opinion of himself. i ~~ But hé was a person without guile of an{ sort; he would have cut off his pig tail, sold his tobacco keg, tried not to swear for her sake, but he could not pretend to be pious, and he did not. A year or two afterward, however, when both had got past the shyness of meeting, and set aside if not f{rngotten the past, there was a r¢vival of religion in Plainfield—no great excitement,%‘mt a quiet springing up of “good seed” sown in past generations, it may be, and among the softened hearts and moist éyes were those of Uncle Josh. His mother’s prayers had slept in the leaves l of his mother’s Bible, and muy they awoke to be answered. l

-It was strangely touching, even to old Parson Pitcher, long used to such interviews with the oddest of all pecxie under excitement—rugged New/Englanders—to gee the simple pathos that vivified Uncle Josh’s story of his experience; and when in the midst of a sentence about his dear mother, and her petitions for his safety, with tears dripping down both cheeks, he burst into a “hallelujah metre tune, adapting the words— . * - - - o fe . “Though seed He buried long in dust;” etc. and adding to ' the diversity of rythm i the discordance of his sea-craked voice, it was a doubtful matter to Parson Pitch‘er whether he should laugh or ery; and “he was 'forced"“w'éﬁiﬁﬁig%ég%vitg hysterical snort, thtthu Josh brought out the last’ word of the verse on a power'ful- fugue, Bt e

: L et - So earnest and honest was he, that, for a whole week after he had been examined and approved by the church eommittee as a_probationer, he never once thought of Kunice; when, suddenly,as as he was reading his Bible and came across the .honorable mention of her name by the apostle, he recollected with a sort of shame-faced delight, ‘that now perhaps,; she would have him; 'so, with no furtber ceremony than reducing his gusty flax colored hair to order, Ly means of a packet comb, and washing his hands at the pump, away he strode to the school house, where it was Miss:Eunice’s custom to linger after school till her fire was burnt low enough to “rake up.” . - Josh looked in-at. the. window as he. “brougn to,” in his own phrase, “alongside tﬁe school "house,”” and there sat the lady of his love, knitting a blue stocking, with an empty chair most propitiously placed beside her in front of the fire-place.” Josh’s heart rose up mightily, but he knockéd ‘as little a knock as his great knuckles could effect, was bidden in, and sat kimself down on the chair in a paroxysm of bashfulness, nowise helped by Miss Eunice’s dropped eyeés and persistent knitting. So he sat full fifteen minutes, gvery now and then clearing his throat, in a vain attenipt to introduce the point, till at length ' desperate : 'eny@, he made a dash into the middle o gevthing, and bubbled over with : “Miss Eunice, Uve. got religion! F'm sot eut for to be a real pious man; can’t you feel to have me now?”’ £ &5

~ What Miss Eunice’s little trembling lips answsred, Icannot say, but Tknow it was satisfactory to Josh, for his first reverent impulse, after he gathered up her low worgs, was to elasp his hands and say—4 Amen,” a§lf somebody had asked a blessing ; perhaps he felthe had received one in Miss Eunice. e

When spring came they were married, and were happy Yankee fashion, without comment or demonstration, but very happy. = Uncle Josh united with the chuarch, and was no disgrace to his profession, save and except in one thing —he would swear! Vainly did deacons, brethren and pastor assail him withsexhortation, remonstrance and advice; vainly did his meek wife look at him with pleading eyes; vainly did he himself repent, and strive and watch ; “the stump of Dagon remained,” and was not\lﬁ, be easily uprooted. © | - At len®th Parson Pitcher, being‘ greatly scandalized at Josh’s expletives, used unluckily in. a somewhat excited ‘meeting on church business, (forip pr:ﬂ; | er meetings he never answered any calls foris ot habit should got thobotier of hﬂﬁ#ﬁdshoektheverz sinners he might *"WW‘%‘%’* S dos |WO SRS SRR (R g T

- “Good day, Mr. Crane,” said the old ~ “Good day, Parson Pitcher, good day, [..d,—;—;d‘ ‘hot day, sir,” answered the un‘conscious Josh. S i . “Not so hot as . hell for swearers!” ,étem)fy‘ responded the Parson, who heing of a family renowned in New England for .noway mincing matters, sometimes verged upon profanity himself, though unawares. Josh threw down his hoe in despair. g “Oh Lord !” ‘said he, “there it goes again, Iswear! the d——d dogs take it! If 1 dot’t keep a goin’! ' Oh, Parson Piteher, ‘what sga'll I dew? it swears of itself. Tam clean beat tryin’ to head it off, con——no! I mean confuse it alll. I’'msuchan old hand at the wheel, sl e

- Luckily /for Josh the Parson’s risibles were 'hardly better in hand than his own profanity, and it took him now a long time to pick up his cane, which he had dropped in the currant bushes ‘while Josh stood among the corn hills ‘Wiping/ the sweat off his brow, in anabJject state of penitence and humility; and as the parson emerged like a full moon from the leafy currants, he felt mote charitably disposed tawards Josh than he had done before. “Itisavery bad thing, Mr. Crane,” said he mildly. ’“ggi merely for yourself, but it scan»Qﬂi_nes the church members, and I think gou should take severe measures to break up the habit.” - ; . “What upon arth shall I do, sir?” piteouslyasked Josh, “it is| the d—— dest plague! oh! I swan to mah, I've A T

And here, with a long howl, Josh threw himself down in the weeds, and kicked out like a half-broken colt,wishiiig in his soul the. earth would hide him, and trying to feel as bad as he ought to, for his hohest conscience sturdily refused to convict him in this natter,faithful asit wasin less soundingsins. I grieve to say that Parson Pitcher got behind an apple tree, and there—cried perhaps! for he was wiping hig eyes and shaking all over when he walked off, and Josh, getting up considerably in a state of dust, if not ashes and sack-cloth, looked ~sheepishly about for his reprover but he. had gone. Parson Pitcher convened thedeacons and a few of the unpecas bre}:hren that night in his study, am{ expounded to them the duty of charity for people who would sleep in meeting; had to take bitters for their stomach’s sake; never came to missionary meetings for fear of the ‘contribution box; or swore without knowing; and as deacon Stone did now and then snore under the pulpit, and brother Eldridge had a “ rheumatiz” that nothingbut chokeberry rum would cure, and this is very apt to affect the head, and brother' Peter had' so strong a conviction that money is the root of all evil, that he kept gis from s?réading, they' all agreed to have patience with brother Urane's tongue and Parson Pitcher smiled as he 8%‘111"; the door behind them, thinking of that first stone that no elder nor ruler could throw. g il : 3

~ Nevertheless he paid another visit to Josh the next week, and found him. in a hopeful state. = X o “ I’ye hit on’t now, Parson Pitcher,” said he, without waiting for a more usual salutation. ¢ Miss Eunice she helped me, she’s a master creatur’ for inventions ; I s—sugar! there, that’s it! When I'm goin’ to speak quick, I catch up something that’s got the same letter on the bows, and I tell yew ! it goes !-— I see them d—dipper sheep is in my corn. Git aout! git aout! you d—dandelions! git aout!” and he scrombled away after the stray sheep, just in time for the Parson,who had quieted his face and walked in to see Mrg. Crane, when Josh eame back, dripping and exclaiming: “Peppergrass ! them is the d-—drowndedest sheep I ever see,” ~“This new spell of “Miss Eunice’s,” as Josh always called his wife, worked well while it was new; but the unruly tongue elapsed, and meek Mrs, Crane had grown to look upon it as she would upon a wooden leg, had that been Josh's infirmity—with pity and regret, the purest result of a charity which “endureth ‘and hopeth all things,” emincntly hucpdingtrarte it

.~ CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. I Wénman’s Riaurs.—A physician of the feminine gender, residing in Cin-. cinnati, has distinguished berself by not only elaiming her equality with the. other sex in the practice of the healing art, but by algo taking her revenge in a manly way. Mr P. H. Myers, formerly a clerk in the Southeate House, by either kissing her'or failing to kiss. her, ad excited her wrath; and just as the dinner bell was about to ring, and when the largest nu@ﬁb of per‘sons eould ‘witness the sogg,%e appeared at.the. Hotel, Salked irnight up to the offending masculine, - drew a ‘cowhide from under her cloak, and did not pause till she made lgmmmﬁ beg. When, ‘i,durin’;gi th syenef her cloak fell off. it revealed ' the'fact that she was armed with a siz shooter which. 'was_kept in reserve for the time of of Cl e e R

FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF A PHYSICIAN: | . | ELost and Found. = In one of the wardseof an institutiod dﬁv&e t:f the houseless ang%{mw children of want, poverty, destitution; and abai 'donxﬁeéi, me;%*'homh& |never known a. parent’s care, a little | child lay dying, She lay in her little “eriby” her head mpé)edwith;ﬁllowi so that ﬁl:e was al‘r’nop Iy mﬁang‘poature. The nurse sat| by her side holda ing in hers the emaciated hand which was growing every moment more ehill and clahmy, and from fime to time | wetting the Eax;chedjfljpi_ With eold ‘was ter. Ag the good nurse performed these little acts of kindness “ierv hand trembled and the tears dropped from - her eyes, for little CARRIE had endears ed ’hcrsélf to every heart. e - Sweet little Carrie, her life had beeit full of sTdness, yet she had ever seem< ed like al sunbeam, warming all hedittsd ‘with "whﬁm she came in contact, filling - them with love. Her voice was birdlike in its sweetness, and her laugh like - the 'epur&ling waters ag they flow on, dancing and singing along the flowery - banks -and beneath the arching trees with ‘the[Lright star-light gleaming and flashing on their bosom. - Her face was - sweet and gentle, but in her eyes—at times sad and dreamy, as though some vision of the past still hauntedthe memory, floating through the chams bers of the mind ‘%ike gleams of sune shine or strains of haif forentten musig ~—there was a spiritual depth, down, . down, into which you counld loqk -';tnd : could ;al*'nost see — fainty, dimly—-‘white-robed forms floaiing 1n . azare: skies or weaving garlands of bright and - gorgeous |flowers. AT L Of hex; early history she knew nothing. She had been taken from one of those gilded and luxurious palaces of sin-which throng our city,on thedeath of the woman who tlaimed to be her mothcr. | Eal e As the | miserable woman wis dying, she confessed the child ‘was not hers; but she had stolen it in its'infancy, in & fit of angg jealousy at the father, who had deserted her to marry the mother - of the child.” As she was about t Q!l?enu: tion the name of the parents her head. fell back aind"her voice was silenced in death, .| . e S

Eve ort to discover the parents was fn’x‘ilzgs, and the little child was taken to the institution where many a homeless child had found a home. . Aftera J‘ime she began to “fai_l-.?" There was no vigible ¢ause, and yet it'was evident she was slowly fading away. The step became more languid, the form more emaciated; the eye assumed @ glassy brightness, and. the delicate cheek was at times rosy with a hectic flush. At length she could not rise from herlpillow’ but lay all w lonF quietly, without a murmur, acknowiedging every kindness with a gentle smile, and a sweet. murmured “7hank you.”” “She should yet see,” she said, “her déal mamma, and then the angels ‘would call her home. In her yisions she had seen a sweet form bending ovet her pillow, and ' as her lips murmured Mamma, the form had vanishéd.” And. now, sweet, gentle little Carrie was dy: ing. Her crib had been drawn before the window, so that the cooling breeze might fan her brow. From %he distance came the hum of the busL{:;;y -_ hut her ear heard it not. The tea n{ face of the kind nurse was bending over her; but she saw. it not, for before her eyes were floating the mists of death. Slowly the sluggish blood ‘coursed its accustomed channels. . A few more gasps and all will be over.. The: door opens, and a lady, dressed in deép black -enters with the matron, -~ =

“Madam,” she says, in g,s'utee#voiﬁarf “I /have but a short time sinee returas ed from Europe. Some years since; s peculiarly painful ineident occurred in myhistory, and for aiyle&r past I have visited, with a feverish longing, every institution devoted to children within my reach. Now, it seems to mé, thah mystery which has saddened the few last years of my life, is about to be solvetf.'a Will you permit me to look ad these sick children?® - .© - : That voice! the eye of the d’yin'gf‘, brightens; it has g;enét&ed throug the icy shroud of death, and quickens ed the almost lifeless form like an elees tric shock. ~“Mamma,” burst forth & clear sweet yoice. The lady stars atid turng her face. _ Little Cat¥ie is sitting, erect her arms streched forth, “Mamma!”/and with one bound the mgther is at her side, and ' the lorg-lost, the . long-wept, the%#;g child is atlast folded to her mother’s heart. “Mams ma! sweet mamma,.l knew yf,otjt"v-im’f\tjl% comg, T have waited for yoti 8o long"’ and the emambedkmdﬂémﬁ | ingly over the pale face of the mother, i et eSI sha lay clasped | wm%w%@” Still.no sopnd hroks fram: Ui lUSREEs, lips. _Ome ook, it 0% tohRL el

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