Noble County Register, Volume 1, Number 15, Ligonier, Noble County, 13 May 1858 — Page 1

Tloble Connty Aiequster.

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S R ; I'_ll%m' County Register 87U BLIsAAD BVERY THURSDAY MORNING BY ‘v J.PALMITER & Co. - Orrice+lB Fisher’s Block, 2d Story rof Cavi and Third Stusats. e T z o Terus-#slso per annum in advance; or §2 00 if not paid up '? ation of sixmonths, - | b _}'l’3‘{?3’l_l’{*l'll\*l} et Rts Virldls branches executed with neatness and : 5 Od( A,RNOLD, Moﬁ DQ i - Physician & Surgeon, - LIGONIER, : INDIANA. Having recently located in Ligonier, will attend to all cails in the line of his profes- " sion.. Office-~in the Drug Store of O, ~~ Arnold & Co. # . §URGEON, OBSTETRICIAN AND PHYSICIAN Ligodier, -t : ¢ : Indiana. ~ J. McCONNELL, Real Estate Jgent and Notary Public ' LIGONIER INDIANA. W{LL accnowledge deeds and mortgages é and fake depositions, = - ', % PALMITER, | LIGONIER, - ] . INDIANA MANUF’ CTURER of different varieties ) of Topibstones, Monuments, &c. Engraving exegyl ed in the most approved style, ' ? /ARNOLD & Co. 3 LIGONIEF : INDIANA. Dealers in ’2/‘ gs, Medicines, 'Raints, Oils, Glass, YanKg#e Notions, Books, Stationary, - Wall end ,;4 dow. Paper. &c. &c. Alse, a, Jarge supplf of Choice Family Groceries, _¢onstantly % hand. oo 1 8. H.ESTABROOK, LIGONIER, AINDIANA WH()L ALE and retail dealer in / Drugd Medicines, Paints, Oils, Glass, Dye-stuffs, Lerfumery, Fancy Goods, Family Grogeties, }%?(e Wines and Liquors, for meLdiciﬁﬁj; purpddes. ; S ZIMMERMAN, DR:\}.!*Z. #n Dry Goods, Groceries, Boots aid »\‘\ém, Queens-ware, Notions, &c. b s AdsoDeal® 16 all kiods of Produce, — ‘xM L a ._...__._M,.___ e < - Lly} IS COYELL, ¢ ENERAY COLLECTION AGENT. Lignnierd Indiana. C:)I.LFA‘-' JONS in Noble and adjoining &/ Countie§promptly made, and on reason= able terms. N i STOUGHTON & WOODWARD, ; .Htlorn%s & Counsellors at Law. LR ONPERy . £ INDIANA. | WILL ‘promptly attend to all business. . that fiays. : :

V. C. MAINS | | J. W. BRYANT . MAINS & BRYANT, . .Altorneys aC'Law, Albion, ‘Noble Co. Ind. g W‘ ILL attend promptly to all Legal Busi-: ness éntrusted to their care in 'the courts jof Noble and adjoining counties. B § . J« E. BRADEN, i EALER in the different varieties of D FAMILY GROCERIES, also a full assortment of Wines, -Liquors, Domestic and ¥ - Imported. Refrefhments of all kinds alwayg hand: . e . v J./RIPPERTON, DPHYSICIAN AND SURGEOWN, ' Ligonier, /; : Indiana. EspEC#?LLY offers his professional R services to the citizens of Ligonier and F vieinity. Y @ o — ' CLIFTON HOUSE. "7 2, J.. COZHRAN, PROPRIETOR, Elkhart, 7 ; Indiana. ,"T“His oe is the general . { Passengel® conveyed to and frem the } Jarsfree. /0 : : - % . - ol ¥: PRICKET, e Httorney and Counsellor at Law, O F_l"'l'CE the Court House, Albion, InF diana. #Frompt attention given to all: Legal businé .yemtrusted to his care. ol 48 g WOODWARD, i "_,_.N‘O YA4RY PUBLIC, \\fl‘LL "' TENND PROMPTLY TO | all ki#ids of conveyancsng ane all other business aPpertaining to that office. | 'OFFICE @yer Fisher & Hosteter’s store, | Ligonier, Noble Co, Ind. ' . | v e T — . H% RY DOSTETEER, P . 2 ‘..lhl‘, ~ JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. FEICE % Mein Street, Ligouicr, Indi - P_:nlh ;,’ ; i JAND AGENCY. HE undéfsigned has established an Agen--16 e purchase and sale of. Real es--tate in Nojbl# and adjoining eounties, and has t céacted ingements which offer. superior jnducem¢tntd for these wishing to buy or sell rw the saguie; in this section of the State, . . lﬁ%ieulagv ention will be paid to Renting ~ Hecuises, Ledfing farms, and other business ~ “which it may be necessary for non-residents toleave in the hands of an agent. . . " BAND WARRANTS -+ Bought, 80l and obtained for those entitled * to the same Mnder the late act of Congress. Ay % JAMES McCONNELL, L. W, STOCKER, ... w C. MCGONIGAL. STOCRER & McGONIGAL, 4 T“Z'O NEYS AT LAW, +~K ND Gefibral Agents for Buying and Sel-. ﬁa&g‘t ‘Estate, Examining Titles, Waking Colections and Paying Taxes. . . G A“b‘"“';‘v.ﬂ“ “- Lt ;:;*g'a.ﬁ'?fﬂf . BARRON, ;R PESIERIY . jlgoks, Watbhes, Jewelry & PatontMegicines . i ,;., Rt d hm'& the ~.-,::!‘:i‘», ih'@T?f‘"::' '*x -‘s"‘*’:‘.i :4 YR L .“? 5 Re s oty SR R e e RO S Re L)

| THE DYING CALIFORNIAN. | Lay up ncarer, brother, neaver; . For my lfmbs are growing cold, " ' And thy presence seemeth dearer, . ' When thy arms around me fold; ; : ‘Tam dying, brother, dying, : § ks Soon ye'll miss me in your berth, . l . For my form will soon be lying, % _~l . ’Neath tho oceaw's brinysusf. . . = } Hearken to me, brother, hearken, l I have something T would say, - } E're the veil my vision darken, 4 | And I go from hence away ; / . lam going, surelygoing _ i & But my hope in God is strong, S . lam willing, brother, knowing, Py . That he docth nothing wrong. . " * Tell my father when you greet him, < il b Tlmt__ipde;gj’ptgyodﬁrldm ‘ o - PEnyed thut e day moet him, : * In a world that's free from sin;’ Tell my mother, (God assist her : - Now ®jat she is growing old), . Tell her her child would glad have kissed her ' When his lips grew pale and cold. ° Listen brother, catch each whisper;, ; ’Tis my wife I'd'speak of now, . Tell, oh tell her; how I missed her, When the féver burned my brow ; } Tell her, brother, closely listen, . Don't forget a single word, : : ‘That in death my eyes didl glisten, . With the tears her mcﬁwry sfirred. A Tell her she must kiss my children, : Like the kiss I last impressed, . Hold them as when last T held them, Folded closely to my breast; Give them early to their Maker., _ Putting all her trust in God, And lle néver will forsake her, For He's said goin his Word, - 0; my children! Heaven blcss them! . : They wdre all my life to me,- : ! - Would I could once more caress them, : . E're I sink beneath 'the sea. " "Pwas for them I crossed the ocean,! . What my hopes were I'll not tell, = - Dutghey have gained an orphan’s portion, ' Yet IHedoeth all things well. : Tell my sisters T remember Every kindly parting word, And my heart has been kept tender, : By the thoughts their mem’ry stirred = . Tell them I ne’er reached the haven ‘ Where I sought the “precious-duat,” But I have gained a port called Heaven, : g Where the gold willnever rust,” Urge them to secure anfentrance, . For they'll find their brother there; " Faith in Jesus and _repontance : ——_Will secure ifor each a share. ¢ Ilark! Ihear my Savior speaking, - 7 "'is, I know his voiceso well, e . When I'm gone, oh don’t be weeping, " Drother, here's my last farewell. ) ~ ?"‘T‘"’tv———-\ ! ““From the Wesleyan Famely Visitor. \ . X ¢ ‘THE POOR WASHERWOMAN, ¢ T DECLARE, I have half a mind to put this bed-quilt to wash to-day. It does not really need to go either; but I think I will send it down.”

# Why will you put it in, Mary, if it does not need to go?”’ askedgher good old aunt, in her quiet and expressive waY' ; { “Why, you see, aunt, we have but a small wash to-day, so small that Susan will get through by one o’clock at the latest, and 1 shall have to pay her the same as though shie” worked till night : so— @ L “Stop a moment, dear,” said the old ladyPgently, “stop a moment and think. Suppose. you were in the situation that poor Susan ‘is, obliged, you tell me, to toil over the wash-tub six days out of the seven, for the bare necessities of life; would you not be glad, once in a while to get through before night, to bave a few hours’of daylight to labor for yourself and family ; or, better still, a few hours to rest! Mary, dear, it is a hard hard way for a woman to carn a living; begrudge not the poor creature an easy day. 'This is the fourth day in succession, that she has risen by candle-light and plodded through the cold, here and there, to her customers’ houses, and totled away existence, Let her go at noon if she gets through: who knOWé| but she ‘may have come from the sisk‘ bed of gome loved one, and she counts the hours, yes, the minutes, until she can return, fearing that.she may be oncl too late? Put it back on the bed, xmd‘ sit down here, while 1 tell you what one poor washerwoman endurved, because-‘ ‘her employer did as you would to make out the wash.” Aund the old woman took off her glasses and wiped the tears that from some cause had gathered in her aged eyes, and then witha tremulous voice related the promised story : “ There was never a more blithesome bridal than that of Ada R——. None ever had higher hopes, more blissful anticipations. Wedding the'man of her choice; one of whom any woman might be proud—few, indeed, had a sunnier life in prospect than she. ~“ And for ten years there fell no shadow on her path.. ler home was one of beauty and rare comfort; her husband the same kind, gentle, loving man as in the days of his courtship ;— winning laurels every year in his profession; adding new comforte to his fireside. - And besides these blessings, God had given them another: a little crib stoad by the bedside, its tenant, a ghei ta s its noble father, and dearer than aught “Bub T must not dwelkon thoso bap‘ers—just When tho cup was sweetest it

LIGONIER, IND. THURSDAY, MAY 13, 1858.

‘wag dashed away. A series of misforﬁnnbi%ggever;es onnrred;rit.h s;!,art- - ing rapidity,and swept away from them evegr;zglingj;mt lov;;? and t{eir babe.— Spared to one another and to that, they bore a brave heart, and in a distant city beﬁln 4 new fortune: | Well and strongly did they atruggle,, and began once more to see the light of prosperity shite upon their home. But a little while it staid and then the shadows fell. The husband sickened, and lay for many a month upon a weary couch, languishing not only with bodily and ‘mental pain, but oftentimes for food and medicines. All that she could do, the wife perférmed with a faithful hand ‘She went from one'thing to another until, at length, she who had worn a satin garment upon her bridal day, toiled at the wash-tub for the scantiest living.— In a dreary winter, long before light she would rise ‘morning after. morning and labor for the dear ones at home.— Often she had to set off through the cold, deep snow, and grope her way to kitchens, which weére sometimes smoky and gloomy, and toil there at rubbing rinsing and starching, not unfrequently wading knee deep in the drifts, to hang out the clothes that froze even ere she had fastened them to the line. And when night came, with her scantg earnings, she would again grope throug the cold and snow to her ofttimes lightless and fireless home; for her husband was too gick, much of the time, to tend the fire, or strike a light. And, Oh, with what a shivering heart che would draw near, fearing ever| she.would be too late! It is a fact,” that for six weeks, at one time, sli¢ neveg saw the face of her hushand or her child, save by lamp-light, except on the Sabbath. How glad she would have been, to have, had, once in a while, a small washing gathered for her! - £ One dark winter morning, as she was preparing the frugal breakfast and getting every thing ready before she lett, her husband called her to the bedside, - ' ¢¢ Ada,” said he, in almost a whisper ‘I want you to try and get home early ! to-night: be home before the: light goes; do, Ada.’ ' “¢l'll try,” answered she with a choked utterance. oy

- “‘Do try, Ada. I have a strange desire to see youy fuce by daylight; today is Friday; T haye not se‘cn%t since ‘sunday. llmuét amok upon it once again.” : ““Do you feel worse?” asked she anxiously, feeling his -pulse as she spoke.” | e “No, no, I think not; but I do want to see your facde once more by sunlight. I can not wait till Sunday,’ : Gladly would she have tarried by his bedside until the sunlight had stolen through their little window, but it might not be.- Money wag wanted and* she: must go forth to labor. She left hér husband. She reached the kitchen of her emyloyer, and with a troubled face waited for the basket to be brought. A smile played over her wan face as she assorted its contents. She could get through by two o’clock; yes, and if she hurried, perbaps by one. Love and anxiety lent new strength to her weary arms; and five minutes after the cioci struck one she hung the lastigarment on the line, and was’ just about emptying her tubs, when the mistress came in with a couple of bedquilts, saying—--4 Ag you have sosmall a wash to-day ‘Ada, I think you may do these yet.’— After the mistress had turned her back a cry of agony, wrung from the deepest fountain of the washerwoman’s heart, gushed to her Hps. Swmothering it as best she could, set to again, and rubbed, rinsed, and hung out. 1t was half past three when sie started for home, an hour too late!” and the aged narrg. tor zopped. e LA

“An hour too late,” continucd she after a long pause. = “Her husband was dying; yes, almost gone! He- had strength enough given%?_im to whisper a few words to the half frantic wife, to tell her how he longed to look upon her face; that he could not see her then he lay in the shadow of death. One hour she pillowed his head wupon her suffering heart; -and then—he was at ‘rest.” et :

% Mary, Mary dear,” and there was a soul-fouching emphasis in the aged woman’s words, “be kind to your washerwoman : instead of striving to make her day’s work as long as may he, shorten it, lighten it. ~ Few :women will go out to washing daily, unliss'their needs are pressing. No woman on her bridal day expects to labor in that way; and be sure, my neice, it is her last resort. That poor woman, laboring now so hard or you, has not always been a washerwoman. She has scen better days.— She, has passed through terrible trials too. I can read the story in her pale, sad face. Be kind to her; pay her ‘what she asks, and let her go home as early as she can.” e Mot X . i %0 08 - %You have finished in ﬁﬂm today Susan,” said Mrs. M—, as the ‘washerwoman, with her old cloak and ‘hood on, entered tmﬂmt Toom to get the money she had carned, -

| “Yesnmam, I have! and my heart, | ma’am, isrelieved of a heavy load, too. { I was afraid 1 should be kept till night {and lam hgded so-at home.” ' - | “Is there sickness there 7" said the {old aunt Kindly. = . e | Tears gushed to the woman's eyes as she answered,” “Ah, ma'am, T left my baby ‘moest:dead this' morning: he will be quite so to-morrow. - I know it; I have seen it too many times; and none but a child of nine years to attend him, O! I must go, and quiekly.” And, grasping the money she had toiled for while her. b‘bz!ﬁldgmg, she hurried to her dreary home. -~ : Shortly 36 rward. they followed her; the young wife who had ‘never known a SOITOW, al‘?ﬁre “y ~o§éd(matmn whose ‘hair was white with trouble, followed her to her home,the home of thé drunkard’s. wife, the drunkard’s babes. %he was not too late. The little dying boy knew his mother. But at midnight he died, and then kind hands took from the sorrowing mother the breathless form, closed the bright eyes, straightened the tiny limbs and folded about it the pure white shroud ; yes, and more —they gave, what the poor so seldom have, time to weep. g “0, aunt!” said Mrs. M—,; with tears in her eyes, “if my heart blesscs you, how much more must poor Susan’s! Had it not been for you, poor Susan would have been too late. 1t has been a sad, yet holy lesson. I shall always now be kind to the poor washerwoman. EBut’,”aunt, was the story you told me a true one—all true, I mean 7’ ~_“The reality of that story whitened this head when it had seen but tßirty summers; and the memory of it has ‘been one of my keenest sorrows. It is ot strange that I should pity the poor ‘washerwoman. - { et

§ —_— P ¢ | Young Mari Wanted | . “A young man of industry; ability, integrity, &c. » . This mects-one’s eye daily in the column of *“Wants,’” and it is as true as the: Pentateuch. = Wanted? Of course they are—always wanted. - The market can never be overstocked with them; they will always be called for and never quotcd( ‘dull’ or ‘no sale.” Wanted for thinkers, wanted for workers; 'in the mart, on the main, in the field ffmd in the forests. Tools are lying idle for want of young men; a pen is wai Iﬁ‘g't6lﬁeiyded§,ga tfee to be felled; a plough to be guided; a village to be founded; a school to.be instructed. They talk’ about staples and great staples. ~ Honest, industrious, able young men are the great staple in this world of ours. Young man, you are ‘wanted, but not for a doctor. %Jo, nor for a Lawyer. There are enough .of them for this generation, and ene or two ‘to spare. ‘Dont study a ‘profession,” unless it be the profession: of brick-laying or farming, or some other of the manual professions. Dont measure tape if you can helpit. 1t is honorable and honest, and all that, but then perhaps you can do better. Of all things don’t rob the women. : It is their prerogative to handle silks and laces, tape and thread. Put on your hat like a man,don an apron and go out of doors Get a good glow on your cheek. the iSWelry of toil on your brow, and a good et of well developed muscles. We would goif we could, but then we were young lpugﬁr ago than we like to think, and, yon know when ome’s ‘old, he

. Besides if you become a Doctor, you will have to wait. ‘Because you haven’t éxperience,” says an old practitioner;— ‘because you are too young,’ say all the women. e

. 1f you are a lawyer and likely to rise, they put a weight upon your head & la Swiss to keep you under, or if you make a good argument, some old opponent as gray as a rat, will kick all over by some taunt or other, because you were not born in the yeer 1. - : And so.it will .go on until you grow ‘tired and seured;snd wish you had been a tinker, perhaps ‘en immortal one,” or anything but just what you are.” Bea ‘a farmer and your troubles are over, or ather they do not begin. You own what you stand on ‘from the earth’ as they used to say, ‘up to the sky;’; you are as independent as possible all day, and tired, not weary at night; for there is a great differenee between those two ‘words, if one ouly stops to think about it. The more neighbors you have, and the better farmers they are, the better for you. ' i ‘There is one thing more, you are wanted. A young woman wants you Don’t forget her. No matter if you are poor. _Don’t wait to be ’rid;ff /%m’i need a companion while you live and not when you arc done living: - Effort is life, and cessation therefrom a grand and gloomy ‘has been.” Sodo not wait until your time is all in the yesterdays; if you do, ten to one if you are fit to marry atall, to any body that's fit 63 be married. Marry while you are young; and ﬁ#@nss%@‘ii&pw« lest in the ycars to come, somebody shall advertise ‘young men wanted, aad none to be had.— Chi. Towewads® s S B g B Inaiea et Hintele.

| _ Thomas Paine. = . . A correspondent of the Bostew Journal gives the following sketch: of the life of this notorious man: Thomas Payne was born izi’Tlicffgx:d,' England, in “the month of° JFanuary 1787, His father w7as & Guskef }gﬁﬁﬁg ciple, and a staymaker by trade,. Thomi: as for a time, followed his father’s bisness. Ile then became a grocer. He was next in ' the Government employ, and was dismissed for defrauding ’“ﬂfe‘ revenue. He becanie a married” than, maltreated his wife,and finally abandoned her. He mjade the acquaintance of Dr. Faonklin in Paris. L;}r'he_u .thﬁz;i!}}‘ quaintance begun Paine was living in a garrct and wag ecatching a preearious ‘suﬁistan'ce as a writer. © He concluded to visit America and try his fortune in our infant struggle with England, He reached Philadelphia in the year 1774, and soon after published his polilfdzil pamphlet called “Common-Sense.”” "

- 'Chis little tract on the Revolution elevated Paine to some ecminence .asa politician. He was made the confident of important political secrets—he . betrayed his trust, and was dismissed from his post with disgrace. The charge against him was that he had violated liis official oath, and was destitute of general integrity and marked for general falshood. S : - In the month of Februarry 1787, he sailed for England. Upon his arrival there ke priuted his book® called the ‘Rights of manin reply to the writings and speeches of Burke on the French Revolution. He was tried in Eugland for sedition. lle escaped and sailed to France; but aot till he had been outlawed in E_ngla;;d. In 1794 he was a mewber of the National Assembly in France, and voted against the death of Louis XIV, and for that act lost favor with the Jacobins.

He came jagai;fr to America, In 1792 'he begun his ‘ageof reason” He had neither Bible nor Testament when he compose i the first part, and his motive for publishing this book was that the political revolution would be followed by a religro,us revolution—men ‘had trodden down kings; Paine now supposed they w%uld ‘now. tread down God and the Bible; and the overthrow of: religion was the favorite chimera of the author. | i g -

He was: Alrc‘s_ted&‘ fo litica] crimes, a;nd‘thr;%r fn’tﬁ prisgnl,mwbei, he remained eleven months. Ile was-now a confirmed drunkard: and such were his habits that Mounroc, his faithful friend, ‘was compelled to abandon him. ' Next we find him attacking General ‘Washington in a violent profligate letter of sixty-four pages. Te denies ‘Washington all” “(Generalship”—ecalls his great b:itéyles “insignificant skirmishes”’—and thus addresses the Father of his country : “As to you, sir, treacherous in private friendships, and a hypocrite in public life, the world will be puzzled to decide whether you are an Apostate or an Impostor.” . He again visits Europe, and returns to America in 1802. He was welcomed back with attention. Rooms were taken for him at one of the best hotels inNew York. DBut the zeal of his supporters was somowhat cooled when it became known that he had eloped from France- with another man's wife and. three. children, and that they were all. with him at the public hotel, at the charge of his friends. . . A gentleman who called on him soon after his arrival thus describes the interview: “We rapped, a small figure came to the door, meanly dressed, with an old outside coat on, and no other-=a: dirty silk handkerchiet loosely hung about the neck a-long: beard of wecks growth—a red face, and-he more than half drunk. = In the room was a small round table; -on it stale beef; beer and. brandy; and at the table Paine. sat; mumbling shaking his head, sipping at his beer and brandy, and railing at the Bishopof Fandaf. =~ = - In 1785 the Btate of New York gave him an cstate confiscated from Frederick Davoe. It wasnear New Roc;lgsne,i and comprised three hundred acres.— ‘The house was built of stone. To this place he removed, taking with- him Madam Bonneville ‘and her three chilAeen . e i el i a

Here he ran' down to the lowest depth of moral degiadation. = He associated with the lowest of human beings. He herded with-the vileé and the aban.doned. ' He was found almost continually in the tap room, drinking as long ‘as he could stand, and retailing the “Age of Reason.””” - = He became poot, as well as immoral. As he could not afford brandy he took to New England rum. The part of New Rochelle called Bonneville, from his mistress, became ‘the “Sodom” of the region. The youth had no moral or intelleetual training but grew up ignorant, lax and immoral. ; - He wasa sight to behold—a confirm‘ed drunkard—a notorious liar—a profane wretch—so drunk, so profane, so filthy that no decent person ecould re‘main with hiln. As he had abandoned ‘Madame Bonneville with kicks and curses, he had no companion butan eld

black woman who was as drunk and fil‘thy as himazelf, and the casual -visitor - would often find Paync and the negresd dead drunk on the floor. = . In 1804 he removed to the city of New:York. But he was so filthy that #o onessweuld: keep him. - And- with tears; toiamold, Weichman Paine cried qut—“‘nio one will take me in.” This Welchman had compassion on tke miserable old man—dtagged him out of a low tavern, put him in a tub of hot water, and chyed this prophet of infidelity until’ the mew “of himm e But Plﬂ_’ié’!ﬂ; mnﬁuc:;o; the Welehman. -He had: to-turn thi Ol_aﬁsz., nd ha approached. the close of life one of the dit%%sta..mt druuken, Dratal, pro. fane, indecent, iuipure,” blasphicmous creaturcs, that any age enfured—houté ]&wnnﬂu@é,fm‘m, ML : a qli’im l:t;lae‘ti;;mgm_himi%‘ ﬁ" was, filthy beyond degeriptiun—his linen was the color oﬁwd,!éiﬁhk‘ bis et was 'so awful’ that uone could chiter'it: " Yet's peor-but ‘pidis-fromsti by the nwme of -Hidden came todiis re lief, ana felt that he was still: human andmeeded qarg. . (i g e But cven she cquld barely live: "It was awful to heat his“blasphiemits—to hear him curse the ' diord of glory—tv hear his: shiricks ! when left slone——to see him- start up and .ery out~—“wha's there?” ‘who’s there?”. ~ 'f'o hear his ery, ‘Lord help me,” mingled with curses on the Son-of God, ‘And once he exclaimed, ‘My. God, my God, why hast thou forsakencmel . .t L " He knew that e would be refused a sepulchre in the burial grounds of the Episcopal and Presbyterian church: cs; and to them ho did not apply. But he did apply to the' Friends for a lot in which his bones could be:laid at last.< But he was refused by them. A bitter potion was in his cup. G On the cighth day of Jnne he died in the ¢ity of New York; and the next day was gnrried off to New Rochelle and was entombed in a lonely grave on. his farm. S L

be e T : Too Good to be Last. = B e The following good ond from the Memphis “Bulletin 'is to good to be lost: gi b : ~ Vingt vu.—We have a friend—or with the cmphasis of the inimitable Toodles;, we had a friend, who, for the: nonce,wo shall call “the Major,” theugh: - his right to that prefix is: somewhat questionable, Now the Major has had through life, one besetting sin, and - that is an unconquerable love for a certain game of cards known as vingt un, which is the French for twenty two.— This well known game; a fat wife, and s large family, are the only weaknesses that can be laid to the Major's charge. How often he had been married thée re--cord sayeth not nor is it important.— Suffice It, that during thirty OddjyeS!l' of the Major's ~wedded life, as his wealth increased & his hair becam grey, ~one after another 1w regular succession ‘his board was honored by miniature additions. of himself, until the number had reached twenty, when the Major concluded that things had gone far enough, and should be stopped. Bnt . they drdn’t, as the Major in due time - found out, for he had caleulated with- - out consulting his wife. There were indications” of ‘another bond of union and’ weéll:spring of ‘happiness. -~ The Major' became nervous;, for his nomenclature was exhausted. =ln his desporation he finally declarcd ' that the coming heir to his name and fortune,whetha girl or boy, shonld be named Vinge un. SRS AT

In vain the old woman remonstrated.. The Major, was inexorable. - The new | comer which was the twenty-first, should wag his way through life with that appropriate title. T the ante-room the Major awaited the announcement of the little stranget’ssex. = The nurse ap< - peared and, to the Major's horror whis~ pered the terrible word—fwins! “Busts ed, by thafider!”, yelled the ‘Majof; “why didn't 1 stand on tisenty 27 "o L e ¢@BG,sy 1T

The © Retired Physican” erd ks “ Sands of Life”—X ‘letfer was received lagt week by the Mayor of Jersey 'City, from' a citizen of Unondaga country, in reference to the opérations -of ¢ Old Doctor James.: The following - mode of operation was explaingd in detail: “You enclose him one shilling and le will send the recipe; but after you have: got it, you will discover an article in it that you cannot obtaing and so you mast send te bim for the edicine ready prepared at two dollare a bottle.” It purports to be an extrack of cannabis indica, or a preparatiom ‘not widely different from the Aashiecal off the East—an article of . questionabla. ' value in consumptive disease, andi eextainly not warrantag the price charged, except as it may mﬂtégfl!& a few more “sands” go th deploted cumulus alpeas dyon thebiuko ofexbanstion. . Mayor VWestdatt: prspily Spited that thero is no such person as “Old, . old. man employed mgomnm himg and that the whole affsiris uadorstesd to be am jmposition,