Newspaper of The Weekly Ottumwa Courier, November 15, 1860, Page 1

Newspaper of The Weekly Ottumwa Courier dated November 15, 1860 Page 1
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NEW SERIES, VOL. 5, NO.Ifr. J. W. -VOUiiis,Proprietor. (SMnmtoa Courirr. 19 PUItLTSIIKI) EVERY TIIUR8DAY IK I XJ3^£nOT2"'S BLOCK, (TIIIUD FI.OOH) OTTTMWA, WAPELLO CO., IOWA, By J. W. & G. P. *ORItl*. e s fN VARIABLY IN ADVANCE One copy, poi-yeir Foarcnptes Ten t*en»r' Person* wishing to $1,50 15,00. 12,00. 24,00. tnbserlhe for a lets time than Anil In the gale's son sljti. one ,year can do §o by remitting the amount they wJ«h to he so ftnprnpi iatprl. Tn no rn$o w'll we entrrrew AAw* iimJp (iioy nre nipil wlI'i it*fney. ntNIC. LtohRX (!. mortis. There Is muilc In the eephjrr As It (teals rimong the So ten There |g music in the inner s hr"S, A* It Bonta Kroun«l oOr Itowers, .' Tnere Is music In the rumMIng t«Ni, Or the thunder ID the sky. In the riishlnpr noise of the drlvlngwlad, There Is music In the murmuring Strata, Gliding softly through the leu, to the rh er'g loud majestic roar, A* it surges toward the sea In the wayward ocean's deepening eruh, As It beats npon the sand O, there's music ID nil nntnre, Showing forth God's mighty hand. And hai k I hear the m-nle Of, the sernphlms nhore, As they w.i\ to heaven's farthest V*MM Sweet soogs of peace anil love, And the sftlemn sound of whirling ortM, As ihey roll from place to place, Fall on my ear with grandest power, As It echoes throughout space* Then since each breeze that lloatg along Hears music to ourea s, .Jjjiould we not heed the angels eonga, |And the "music o' the spheres f" Aye let's Immlt.ile the glorious soandf We hear round, ahove, And ever tdn^ ami happy lie, As o u e world wi* rove. HS An Autobiography of a Lawyer. I believe I started life under the auspices of my fathers aunt, Dcboiah. a maiden lady of sixty-four, who in the place cf the father and mother whom I never saw, alternately patted mc and scolded me as long as she was able. I escaped from !oth when eleven years old by rtlnning away and although she sent me innumerable messages when she dis-1 covered my whereabouts, to return to her an 1 be sent school and fitted for college, I unlutifully refused ever to go n*ar her again. I had "hired ou." with a small farmer and I stayed three years, at the end of which time my moving propensities moved me to i run off from him. I had made my ai range ment-, anl was even mmnt:d o|i the top of the Reading 8tag\ when who s^ould'twino into the tavern yard but the farmer. "Where are you going, boy n iw cailed out iu a h^rd and severe tone. "To Boston, sir." "To Boston!" I cannot describe th« wanner ir| which be said this but it awoke up all theimemories of flogging which left scars yet, I havo. not time tf* tell you how many more Ithan the i mnoria' Fusbos had. He was k course, I profane man, and he launched out into a strain ofabuse which would have made my blood chill if I had been afraid of him, and bade me instantly to go home. "Thank you, sir," I said, "I am tengajpd to somebody else." At this moment the stage start^. 11* or lered the driver to stop and let me down but he drove on, and I am almost ashtmed to record that I made a significant gesture with my thumb an 1 flayer u on my very decent Roman nose, and wiling out: "Good-bye, sir—you shall hear frow me some day," I wont off in the exultant tyr umph of freedom. I was delighted Wjth tb«- fine prc^pect which I enjoyed in my elevated seat. The driver was very kind to mc, refusing to take my money for the whole journey, ai,d Offer­ ing to find me a stopping place in the city. At that time there was a very old house in Howard street, now demolished, in which a Mr. Jones kept boarders for a numbur of yoars. Here be stopped the stage nr to get down. 1 What sliall I do, driver f" I said. "Just ring that bell, my lad," he ankwtrc J, and somebody will come and let you it.* I looked up to the top of the door. "I don't sec any bell, sir," I said timidly. The man burst into a loud laugh. "Pull that knob, greeny I" he said and straightway I pulled it again and agab, un til Mr. Jones, a queer looking fellow^ with one leg and a dilapidated eye, came tc tho door, and looked daggers out of his retrain ing orb of vision upon tho luckless wight who had broken his bull wire. i "Lot that youngster stay with you ind mama Jones till I come to supper," paid khe still laughing driver and I staid. Mamma Jones was a lady that would hkvc nade a fino companion for Daniel Lambt-t. Sheltered beneath her capacious wings. I could bid defiance to little Mr. Jones, no dared not attack anything that his w|l' might take a fancy for petting. This knowl edge together with the daily sight of my oft ft lend, the drivor, kept me happy through th|! winter. I scoured knives, and performs quite a series of similar dignified labors eve. morning but when boys of my own fee were around, I sometimes thought wlile looking at their good and respectaile clothing, that it would not bo a bad plan me to have accepted Aunt Deborah's of _-r of sending mc to college. An opportunity oiTering to go to sea I prepared to go, despite the entreaties a tears of the fat lady. When she found ne determined, she provided me with every tlii needful for a voyage, and hugged me to capacious heart, and bade me G)d speed. Jones, who was so angry because I sta 1 there, was still more so when I went away and in his wife's absence taunted her of u new clothes, which he more than half su pectci c&me from bur, altUoy^h tluy the g'ft of the sta^e drfr^r. Tho servants were assembled to see me go away, and their hearty "Good-bye, Sam!" A safe return to you old fellow was prob ably more sincere than nine-tenths of the good wishes that have been spoken to ma since that time. I shall saj- but very little about my sea life. It did not answer my expectations at All. I never passed a day without intolerable sea sickness, and being a light delicate boy, the "Well, Sam, you have killed a sailor, after all." I did not then know tha moaning of this phrase, but when I git back to the old hous6 in Howard street, my ft lend the driver, re peated it, a'td from him I got the explana tion of the term. I could not get back to the kitchen to work again after my voyage, so 1 looked dili gently for some employment. An advertisj ment in the paper for a printer's boy caught my eye, and I applied and W.is received.— Here I wadi quite happy I made mys?lf a favorite in the office, and fortunately succeed ed in learning the business so that my servi ces would command a fair remuncnltirtn. At twenty-one I carried Susan Russell, the daughter of my employer. I am thus brief in recording this, because by no alche my whatev could I conv. rt the old fashi- n ed matter-of-fact likiug for each other and subsequent union into anything like romance. The whole might be compressed into a single sentence. I liked her and married her when I found sho likod mo. My description of our new home Would be quit-' as brief. We took two rooms, furnish' ed them comfortably, and Susan kept them shining like silver the whole year round. If ever I enjoyed true, real, unremitting happi ness, without care or anxiety, orfjar for th« future, it was in those days. What peace we enjoyed Our two eldest children were born here and then our limits seemed too small but it was real pain to both of us to move f.-om the long alvxle which had been the scene of so many calm and peaceful hours. We removed to a cottage in the suburbs Boston not those miniature cities which now rise up beside the veritable Trimountain, but a small and obscure village, since risen to the size and jtnpoi tance it deserves. About the time we removed and were quietly set tled, a very important law case was on the docket, and when it came on we were very busy printing the reports of the trial as it progressed. I became imnr nsely absorbed in it not so much from sympathy with the parties concerned as from a fee'ing that, were I acquainted with the technicalities of the law. 1 could sciz'! upon very many points of importance which I believed the prisoner's counsel overlooked altogether. This idea grew stronger and stronger upon my mind. I had access to law books which were in my employer's sanctum, and I pored oyer them sometimes ail night long. Mr. Russell had been bred to tho had relinquished his profession for that of an editor, some years before the birth of my wife. I frankly stated to him my wishes in regard to fitting myself for the bar. He first laughed at me, then seriously tried to dissuade me irom attempting it.— Opposition only strengthened my purpose, and I entered the office of an eminent lawyer, who overlooked my deficiencies in some re spects, in consideration, as he was pleased term it, of the talent and acumou w'.iich my replies to his questions displayed. I now wrote for the journal I had been ac customed to print, with such secresy that Mr. Russell dil not find out who his new con tributor was. ne would often wonder, in my presence, who it could be, and ascribed to hitn such ade^oe of talent and brilliancy of expression as I had hardly hoped to de serve. He often, too, imputed my articles to and then the two leading writers of the day, and expressed his opinion that they would not remain incog, a great while longer. The flattery pleased mc, but I did not show any vanity to lead mc into betray ing myself. Through a third party I re ceived a larger compensation for my 1 t\ors, certainly, then I should have done had my wise father-in-law had the least suspicion who his correspondent was. I studied hard, and had at last the inex pressible satisfaction of being admitted to the Suffolk bar. I took an office with another young lawyer, in order to reduce our expen ses, nnd 4I captain advised me as a friend to stay in Susan, whom I met with rather an embar future upon land. Going on shore, the mato ,rassed air. She looked at the matter more slept forward and shook my hand, saying philosophically than I had expected, and 1ST, bat waited anxiously for the brief period what should be offered. Poor Susan My heart aches at tlw re membrance of certa'n privations to which, with angel sweetness, she submitted at this period, in order that I might appear respecta ble. My contributions to various literary .ouruals barely gave us the means of sub sistence, and I had so nearly offended Mr. Russell by slighting his advance, that I did not dare to ask him for anyass'stance. One da}*, in passing from our suburban residence to the city, I met my old landlady, Mrs. Jones. She looked at me haul, and I returned it. There was no mistaking that good honest countenance Mid expressive form, even when dressed as it was in the deepest mourning. A widow's ample veil hung over tho back of her head, and nearly swept the street. The recognition was mu tual, and tho old lady's raptures at finding me were almost too strong for out door ex hibition. She told me of poor Jones' doath of their removing to the country when the old house in Howard street was torn do^n. "And now," said she, "I am alone in the world." "Come and live with me,M were nyr first words. "You g*ve me a home wheo I was a lone child." I stopped, for the thought passed back upon me that was poor, and unable to main PBS tain even my own family, A strange smile that lay crushed upon the sidewalk, which flitted over the face of my friend, while she the November blast had shaken that very inquired of my situation. I told her, and described my wife and children. "I will go to you, for I c&£ w'fe enough- to pay my boW,n" I was almost displeased at what I had done when considered the immense appe tite which 1 had considerately offered to sup ply, and which I well remembered of old.— But I clung to mv bai-gain and begged her to come with me immediately. "You will And me in rather close quarters,' I said, ''but you shall come and be welcome." We agreed that she should be there the following Afonday, and I went home to prepared her best chamber for Mrs. Jones' reception, heroical'v ca vnig in many little conveniences of which we had no duplicates. My relation of Mrs. Jones' former kind ness to me, and v description of her pfes ent lonely and widowed state, made Susan shed tears. She promised to do everything in her power for the forlorn woman, who she thought would now be thrown upon me for maintenance, and herself for companionship. Mrs. Jones arrived on Monday morning, carpet bag in hand, and followed by a hand cart, beating her old fashioned and some what dilapidated hair trunk. We received her kindly, and she seemed pleased and happy when she sat down to Susan's simple, but excellent dinner. The children were at tentive and kept passing the fod to the new guest. A fortnight pasSed away and We began to feel that we could scarcely dd without Mrs. Jones. She was invaluable as an assistant to Susan, and in marketing for us, her ser vices were beyond all praise. We gave hef our slender purse every morning, as she thought she could do better with it than we could, and it was perfectly amazing to see the loads of provisions and the superior quajjty of the same which she obtained. Susan and began to think that we had been grievously cheated in our former pur chases. So when our wardrobe imperative ly called for additions, Mrs. Jones would go out w'.th 'he money for a sixpenny print and return with something really handsome and valuable for my wife, and a nice remn&nt for little Katy, and then she would sit dofrii and make them both up with all the skill of an experienced niantuamaker. Susan handed me some bills one day that she -said were left there bv the col'eetor, in cluding one for our rent, and one for the last suit of clothes, which I had been unwillingly forced to buy in order to keep up a respecta ble appearance My countenance fell some degrees, I fancy, for I had no money t3 pay them. Mrs. Jones was bustling around Hie din ner table, and she said, rather sadly, that she felt that she ought not to be living uopn as, and pet haps she had better go away. "jNever mind, my good friend l'1 said I. and "Never," uttered Susy. I assured her that I wou'd not listen to her leaving us--that 1 trusted veiy soon to get business, and that come what would the should share our last loaf. The good old soul hugged us both at once, and then set ting her cap and wiping her eyes, she went quietly back to her work. After dinner she went oi t, but wo reiterated the injuncl'on that she should not seek another home as long as she could put lip with ours. I ca'led around in the evening at the va rious places from whence I had received the bills. To my utter surprise the answer was that they had cH been £cii.'cl. I euquired by whom, but no one could recollect. They were all canceled on the various books. 1 was thoro'.igh'y amazed, for I knew no one but Mr. Russell who could do it 'or me, and hardly believed it of him. Suf«y was as sur prised as myself, but she rather inclined to the belief that it was her father, so I quietly let her indulge in the pleasant belief. We got through the summer, but the win ter was coming on and I cctually trembled at its approach. Industrious as I was—pru dent as Su«y had ever been—we could not hope to go through the cold season without both suffering and toil, and with debt super added I had been hi the office all day, one gloomy day in November, anxiously doubling whether I should go back to piiniing again. I considered all tho whys and wherefores, counting the cost again and again, and by the most careful arithmet'c, I could not find that the change would benefit me a single sou. I was toiling unremittingly now, and I should have to do so if I turned to print ing, and with scarcely so much gain as now. I was heartily discouraged at the prospect before me bad I been alone in the world I could have patiently borne k. Suffering and privation brought no tewors to me individ ually, but the thought of those who were dear to me at home unmanned m'e and the darker the prospect, the more I shrank from allowing Mrs. Jones to feel that she was a burden upon us. No, come what might, the good old soul should not be removed from the circle iu which she seemed to have placed a'l her happiness. She should lived with us as long as she lived at all, and if we were re duced to beggary, we would beg for her too. I started up and pa«ed the office with an impatient step. It may seem strange that a strong, healthy man should be so powerless as I was to procure a living but so it was.— It was growing dusk, and I felt it was near my time to go home. I had intended send ing some fuel home, but I was disappointed in some money a certain publisher of a daily paper was owing me, and I now dreaded that there was a darkness on the hearth at home. I was just looking up when a boy came to me with a folded paper it ran thus: "Come to No. Tremont road at about six o'clock." I saw no alternative but to do as I was ask ed. The boy was gone, so I could make no excuse, and I walked over the damp leaves hour from the trees. I went over the ground rapidly, for I panted to learn the errand and y^Ofihe away. J/ rang at the number designated, ft OTTUMYVA, IOWA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15, I860. a good brick house, with substantial steps, a well lighted vestibule with glass doors, and I could see that the whole front was lighted with gas. I heard little feet scampering through the hall, but as the doors were of ground glass I could see nothing. A servant came to the door and watted on me to a handsome drawing-room with plain but good furniture. I waited in curious spec ulation for some minutes. There had been no plate upon the door, so I could not even tell the name of the person wishing to see me. I was standing by the chimney piece, when a little child ran into the room. It was so like little Katv that I would have called her so had not the pretty embroidered robe and s»lk apron looked so far different from our children's plain clothes. But another little head was peeping in at the open door, and that was little Charlie, only for the scar let frock and neat gaiters, and then the two made a long rush across the floor and run into my aims, while slowly and majestically sweeping in her ample crapes and bomba zines, came portly .s. Jonc? and behind her Susy, smiling and blushing like the dawn. I think I had a womanly foe'ing come over me just then. I felt a so. of fuintaesit, tiki passed my hand across my eyes to be sure I was awake. Susy laid a hand upon my shoulder. "You owe it to our kind friend here#" she said, gently. "She has been trying you veiv deeply." "Trying me," I said aloud. "Yes, ray good friend," said MTB. Jones, herself. ''I was rich and had no one about me but selfish and interested people, who wanted my money. I have long owned this house, and lived in it when I met you first, but a thought suggested by your invitation to go to you induced me to try if you would keep me if I happened to be poor, and I am abundantly satisfied with the result. We made money at the old house in Howard street, which no one but ourselves ever knew of, and I always intended to find you out and make you my heir, I had, however, rath er that you would enjoy my property while I can have the pleasure of seeing you so I invite you to return my visit. You **"1 find a handsome office well fiffeu up for you in Couit street when you go down to-mowow morning. The boy who will wait on you has the ke\ s of the door, but here is the keys of your desk and library." I deelare to you, readers, the generosity of this woman unmanned me more than the disconsolate thoughts which had haunted me the whole afternoon. It seemed too good to believe, and when we walked out to the di ning-room, and sat down to a supper to which no expense was spared, I could only look from one to the other and wonder if I was in a dream. I took possession of my grand office the next day. Briefs poured in upon me for who Will not require the sei vices of a rich lawyer, and who wants those of a poor one? I rose rapidly and am still standing in high places. I speak it with reverence, I owe it a'l to a woman. We bought the collage, with its little gar den, and we go there in summer and play poverty again for a few of the hotle.st week1?. We have four children now, and Mrs. Jones pets them all. She is now trying to have mc seek out my old Aunt Deborah, and per haps I will. The old farmer too, ta&md :icv,- ac Hua.il "bear from me."' The Sivath Hand The swath hand of labor—what has it done Delved and plodded, hewn wood and stone, and drawn water, it may be. Yes, it has done all this, and most patiently and bravely borne the burthens and battle weap ons of nations. Sweat and blood have trick led »Yom its brow in innumerable toils and conflicts it has gathered spoils and won victories, seldom to enjoy them. It has been scoffed in the temple by priests, in palaces by kings, and in all the armaments and com merce of the ocean, and the trade marts of earth, have denied it, though to it they owe their beauty, strength, wealth and glory. The swath hand ought long since to have been jeweled it should, ages gone, have swayed the rod of power, and been the ruler of the earth. It might and would, had it been true to the merit and strength, and not directed, by the will of taskmen, to selfish and stavish toil. Had its owner felt that the earth was truly the empire of him who tilled it, wrought its wondrous stores into palaces and temples, and pleasant fields, the swath hand would have held to its creations, demanded the scepter of its rightful empire. Yet, if the past be fruitful of bitter memo ries, there is a present and a future, in which errors of the past can be righted. But the hand of labor is not recordlag* in the ages. The pallaces of ^Assyria, the pyr amids of Egypt, the temples of Greece—aye, and whatever of martial pile, column, or Uophy survives decay and devastation, is the monument of that miserably requited hand. Continent born of wilderness—ham lets and cities, fleets and forests--all in deed, that art can boast or civilijsation de light in, owe allegiance to the swath hand of labor. T» uest hand of nob'lity on God's fair earth! Let the heart that beats behind it be not cast down. Pow*er and dominion are before it, if it will but bravely strike for the sovereignty which is its natural right. LOVE.—The following exquisite passage we find in Tupper's "Crock of gold:"— "LOVE i* the weapon which Omnipotence re served to conquer rebel man when all else had failed. Reason he parries *, fear he an swers blow to blow but love, thai sun against whoso melting beams winter cannot stand: that soft subduing slumber which wrestles down the giant, there is not one human creature in a million, not a thousand men in all earth's large quintillion, whose elay heart is hardened against love.*' Many a poor woman thinks she can do qothing without a husband, and when she gets one, finds she can do nothing with him. The Great Went. We have been in the habit for maAyyetal of calling the region beyond the Allcghanies, the Great west, referring to the immense extent of country and the prodig'ous enter prise with which it was peopled and cultiva ted.—But not till the present season have we learned the true and full significance of the phrase. These occidental districts are the great west emph itica'lv, as they are now proving from day to day by the reports of the incredible productiveness of the grain crops. Once or twice before wc have had occasion to speak of the importance of the last harvest to the commercial and political wel fare of the nation and yet the mora we con sider it, the more we are persuaded that we have failed to impress upon our readers all the bearings of the ficts. The increased value of our exports do* mestic produce, from the first of July to the 8th of October, this year, over those of the whole of last year, is shown to be $14,772, 496 the gain being in wheat and flour, and corn, and the loss being of cotton, $1,550, 000, and of pork, $i(U,000. This export providing for the balance due England, by agricultural products, manifests its effects at once in a decreased demand for the exports of specie, to the amount of upward of $19, 000,000, in the lower rates of exchange, and the general calculations of men of business on both sides of the Atlantic. The foreign creditor looks to the market and not to the banks for his claims, and the domestic debt or forwards grain, instead of gold, to make good his indebtedness. In the face of this enormous drain of breadstuff?, however, no one is disposed to fetil uneasy in regard to the prices of the home market. Flour commands no more han the average prices of the past ten or twenty years. The consumer of it at home is not alarmed at the statement that Eng land will require twenty four millions of bushds, chiefly of wheat, to supply her de ficiencies, or that Ireland, since the failure of the potatoe crop, will probably need some fifteen or twenty millions of bushels of corn in addition. The reason is that ^vety one feels secure in the possession of the inex haustible granneries of the west. A few years ago that vast region had scarcely been opened to the wants of the world an unysu sual demarid from abroad instancy affected our dome-.tic supplies the price of flour rose to twelve dollars a barrel^ and of corri td nearly two dollars per bushel a paini'ul stfingcncy of the market was apprehended, and a panic more or less severe was the con sequence. Now, we not Only look without fear, but with confidence and pleasure upon any de mand from abroad, because we know that^no demand is likely to cripple ou own resources. As an evidence of the change, we may refer to the city of Chicago, which, at the time of the Irish famine, was in i*? infancy and struggling for existence, but which now sends forth in a single month more grain than it did at that lime in an entire year.— From the crop of corn alone of 1S39 that center has already foi warded fifteen mil lions of bushels, while it is estimated that the crop of 18i'0, untouched by droughts or frosts, will be fifty per cent more than that of last year. Indeed it may be said that the State of Illinois alone could furnish with'n the next twelve months to the con sumers of the UnUed Kingdom the twenty fou" millions of bushels of corn, which it is supposed will be needed, wuhout interfere ing in the least with the conditions of the grain market in the Eastern States. 1 'p to the 5th of October, we are told by the reports, C'h'cago has received 10,794,947 bushels of wheat, and 420,083 barrels of flour and at this rate, carried up to the 1st of 1 lecember, when the water transportation may close, the export will rise to seventeen milions of bushels of wheat. But after that, the convoying of flour will still be made by rail, so that the shipments of it from Chi cago this year may be saMy estimated at seven hundred thousand barrels. These items put together will form an aggregate of twenty millions of bushels—nearly equiv alent to the whole demand of Gitxit Britain. These extraordinary shipments are only tc tarded by the scarcity of lake tonage, and the consequent high price of freights, the cost of bringing the com te New York, du ring the period, having often exceeded the first cost at Chicago. That these calculation* ai to Ihe fixture arc not exaggerated,, is shown by the admit ted fact that the supply in the storehouses of the farmers is larger at the present mo ment than at the harvest-time of any of the three proceeding years. Travelers tell us that they are astonished by the stacks of un touched wheat which still line the sides of the railways throughout northern and south ern Illinois and we cannot doubt it, when we remember that the wages of laborers du ring the harvest ranged from one and a half to two and a half dollars per diem. At the close of navigation there will still be we think from twelve to fifteen millions of bushes sur plus to come foi ward early in the spring. This, added to the amounts we have given above, will prove conclusively the ability of the prairies to'provide, through the port of Chicago alone, for the foreign demand.— Chicago, however the largest, is not the on ly grain-shipping port, but being uf itself adequate to meet the prevailing wants, thcr* is no occasion for our referring to others. Cotton, it has been said, is king and no one will dispute, who has observed the course of politics for many years pxst. that cotton is a potentate of tremendous power. But another monarch of trade -s rising, in the form of wheat, not to push the elder incumbent from the throne, but to share with him, to some extennt, the homage and love of mankind. The great west is looming up on the horizon. "Llk* a new taooit' Klsen on mld-nool/* Commerce already feols the beneficent in fluence of the new rays and politics, antici pating the advent of a new Western States man worthy of the prodigious region by which he has been nurtured, begins to re joice at the prospect of a season of unwonted political prosperity.—2fuo York Po*t The Sqnirc and hi« Wife. The friend burst into a laugh and the Squire, after looking lurid and lugubrious a moment joined him. "Wife, I give it up. I owe you one. Here is the fifty dollars you wanted far that cirpet, which I dented vou." The Squire forked over. "Now let us hare peace and some dinifer." The good woman pocketed the p*»p?i\ rang the bell, and a sumptuous repast of fish poultry and vegetables was brought in. Iri a few days afterwards tho Squire re mained working in his garden sometime af ter the usual late hour. His wife g:cw im patient ofde'ay, and went to find him. H's excuse, when she asked what he was wait ing for, threw her into a flutter of excite ment "Some onw's to Come to supper P* she ex claimed. "Why didn't you tell me? I de clare you are the provokingest mm And without asking which of his friends was ex peeted, she hastened to change her dress and "slick up" her hair for the occasion. This Thousands upon thousands of fatmeraand others who have been struggling for years, perhaps, to acquire the means to pay their debts are now able to say for once that they are/7w. The abundant crops have done a wonderful work of relief in the untold num ber of cases. Providence is smiling upon the nation—upon the free States particularly, as never before. Our growth and development in wealth and prosperity will be great be yond precedent What is to be done with The Squ're had a friend to vis't hjm OH'this—in being alive to what is going on business, and was very much annoyed to be around one in living actually, in saying to inten lpted by his wife who ca:ne to ask i one's fellows what they want to heat or what he wished for dinner. need to hear at that moment in lcing the "Go away let us atone!" impatiently concretion, the result of the present world.— said the Squire. i In no other way can one effect the result of Bns'ness detained his friend till dinner the present world. Iri rio other way can time, and the Squire urged him to remain. |one effect the world than in responding thus ThePqnire was a generous povider, proud to its needs, in embodying thus its ideas.-8! of his table and he complacently escoited You will see, in look:ng in history, that all his friend to a sea*. A little to the surptise great men have been a piece of their tithe of both, there was nothing on the hoard but i take them out and set them elsewhere, and a hogi dish of sali l, which thl good wife i began to serve up. their day an 1 generations. The literatuf# "My dear," said the sq'ifre, ''where afe which has !een worthy of the name, has al the meats." W.iys m:rrorol what was doing around it "There are none to-diy,'* replied his la- not necessarily dn^uerreotyping the mere out replied dv. "No meats. Whit in the nams of perer tyl The vegetables, then! Why don't you have the vegetables, bro'»{?fr{ in. "You didn't cder any vegetables.'* •'Order—I didn't order anything?" said the amazed Sqilire. 'Yoj forg t, cooly answered the house-1 way, dcr/t I think of the path h'tf wife. "I asked what we should have, and you said,'Lettuce alone!' II ire it s.*' Investing Honey. done, she came ort and found the Squire lightened and dashed out of doors to &o if Mr. Davii had fallen into the well.— seated at the table reading his newspaper. "Where's your Company "My company I haven't any compa ny 1" "But yon said jm expected somebody to supper!" exclaimed the indignant wife. "My dear, I said no such thing. You asked what I was waiting for and I said*: "Some on's to come to supper!" "Summons to come to supper—tlftt*s what I said I was waiting for, my dear. And I came at once." "And you have made me go and change my dress! Oh, I'll pay you for this "No matter about it my dear, owed you remember, for that lettuce." all the money with the accumulating millions "IIe now flowing into the pockets of the people this is an impoitant question. We hive some opinions on the subject which we would like to express, as they will be an answer to the question—"What shall I do with my money V" Invest money in helping those in business who are less fortunate than yourself—not neglecting, of course,to ask for ample sectirity Invest money permanently, by direct dona tion .for any desirable improvements in your town. Invest money in making yourself and family comfortable in your own hotn«. Invest money in developing and improv ing your farm so that it shall be a model to all your neighbors. Invest money in educating your children, for such investments will pay a larger divi dend than can be counted by figures. Invest money in securing for yourself and yours, the cultivation and refinement of every Endowment with which you are favored. Invest money in making yourselfacquairt ted with your own country and its institutions Invest money in visiting other lands, aifd, if your means will permit, you may go to "the ends of the earth." Invest money in seeking out and rendering aid to objects of charhy boUf at hotne abd abroad. Invest money in liberal measures to the poor, and in rewarding liberally all who are employed by y.ou, or are dependent upon you. Invest money in reforming the politics of After you have determined your cfuty In work as a Christian and invasi for ^teraity. -Kixe York hulepcmli.it. iin regard to the foregoing, and your duty will leased, subsequently sunk a well himself, vary according to circumstances, you may "Then pity poor old Stepan A." ThaC* all. OLD SERIE8, VOL. l»,NO.tC TKMT1S—1,50,in Advance. GREATNESS.—All greatness consists is they will not fit so w .-ll they were made for fid", hiit at least reflecting the inside--the thoughts, if not the action of men—their feelings and s •ittiirtenfa, even if it treated of apparently far-ofl tl.emes. When little three yea: ld sister lays her, fair check agiinst nvna, and. with dimpled jarms d-taped round my neck, prattles in her little feet must tread Are there any thorns to pierce them—any pits into which she may. fall? Now I thiiik of it, I miwt tell you of her little speeches. I th'lnlv she is SO can ning -though perhaps, am partial: if so, pardon. One night last week, she rept ujf into my tap,' and, ere I was aware of it, felt as'e^p. I took her ftp to heir tittle bed but,' before putting her in, I said: "Ncllfr most not forget her prayer." c"mmen',cd: "Now I lay me do^fn to sleep— "Dod knows thereat," she muimered. And the white lids cfoscd over the bright eyes, and Neliie was a deep again, Profktfe individuals may take warning by this sad revelation of what one oath cost Da vis Mr. Davis stumped his toe the ©"".her day,' and said The exclamation so aston ished Mr. Davis's oldest boy, William Heri ry that he dropped his hoe and rushed iii'o the house with eyes so wide open that they looked lfvC "eight cent saucerg." Mrs. Davis seeing William Henry's looks becamc While absent from the kitcher Master James Davis set fire to bis'apron This set fire to* a box of shavings, while the box of shavings ignited the house. The result of thfs is that being uninsured, Davis is out three thousand and all causedby bis attempting to make a slave of a little blasphemy. Thudc of Mr. Davis, and learn wisdom. AstomSoisi B.tcr, Oi.Jtmo^ or A1 UYXA\ TO A LARHE SAI.AHY.—Ministers in our day rarely object to an -ncvease of salaiy but wc find in an e.\change a capital story of an old Connecticut pastor who declined it for substantial reasons: His countiy parish raised his sabuyfrotn $300 to $ *00. The good man objected for three i easons: "First," said he, "becauSe j'ou can't affbro to give me Kioie than $:]00. "Second, becijse my preaching isn't worth' more than that. "Third, because I have to collect my sal ary, which, heretofore, has been the hardest part of my labor atwmaj you. If I had to collect an additional hundred if fMM kW me." A visitor to the poet Tennyson w rites:— sP°kc ,n terms of wa*"est STAITL sco\ EBY.— manners and customs there Some of us would like to knew Oh. YOU'11 nM'l u perhaps have som* surplus money—if so, it filled a cistern containingone hundted and invest that on bond and mortgage, or in good thirty barrels of forty ga'lons each. But this &ound, speeie-paying, wel* known, well- »s find them much fte same as „,UB tb«s p'fece —!/elawyerssit ntarett tkejirg." you a heart-revenue, for such riches are woith more than gold or precious stonea. Tat GBEATCST OIL Discovear Y*r.— Invest money liberally, and never tire, tt ^OS'oin make comfortable and happy your parents, Stfpprry Rock Creek, and the districts up the brothers, sisters, and all lvlauves, for the Allegheny, the attention of oil speculators, promise is sure, better than the Rothschilds', 'n Clark county, some time since, a Mr. that your dividend shall be an "hundred- Katnssunk a well one hundred and fifty feet fold. Virginia piOIBTSCS to divide" with"4 deep, and is now taking out fifteen barrels a d»y. Mr. Ra.hbonc, from whom Karns twelve hou-s afler "ile" was struck, nft l"''- officered, well-managed bank—the sfr»ck of, They have discovered a vein of oil coal one •hich has a quotable market value. This alt theiisand feet thick, in a mountain on Hugh's done, go to work again, earn more money,! river, a tributary of the Kanawha. This and invest as before. Work on, work ever,! w^en.lul* a shovel and held over the firo, melts into oil, so that the discovery is a most i important one. A aood deal of excite ment prevails in the net^uborho *1, una "ile" sites are being disposed of rapidly 4| pous prices. ninniiianMufi •i y P^ise Charles Sumner's recent speech in the Sen ate, and added: The most eloquent thing, as I thought, in the whole speech was the unspoken thing—$re silence about his own story." "I'll flog you for an hour, youjiittlevflain. "Father," instantly replied the incorrigible young scamp, as he balanced a penny on his finger, "I will toss you to make it two hours or nothing." 1 During the si£- ti.ogof a Court in Connecticut, not long ago( on a very co^d evening, a crowd of lawyers had cohected a- ound the open fire that b'azed cheerfully oh the hearth in the bar-room, when a traveler entered, be numed with co'd but no one moved to give him odm to waiia bis shins, so IM leaned against the wall ia the back fteut of Chg room. Presently a smart young limb of the law addressed him, aud the following dialogue took place: "You look fikt a' tftwljtf11 "Wa'l I suppose I am come all the way' from Wisconsin afoot, at any rate." "From Wisconsin! What a dlstaMato come on a pair of legs "Wa'l I done it any how.** "Did you ever pasa through fifeR in any of your travel "Yes sir I have been, through ifca out skirts." "I thought likelv. We'l, what are tfic" 1 i I I i -i

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