~L~ J~X

^mmm^mm^mm^mmmmm^mi^m-at.^' imim»»tvmmmmmm mmmtmtmmmmm

Essex County Republican, futtorW AW* iSitrftJay .V*rNtr«tf,

.11 M i w s v U U H !!•••% t n i n i t f i W. V H

ttf W . LANSING * SON, I t M pttr rtmium, t»»K'**»W i* Advanest

Un«Ws*fc . M i t l W i W * lfntitlii.Mi..t^O« Two WtfAi.MMii, I U \m% Nynilw •»*!?2 T h r o 4 ' k I 4tH Nlnv Mutitht.M.... * 10 On* M tiilh.niiM*. t H On»Y«ii»,u..MHii 100

/IMP r On»Wf»l 1 tu T » M Wv>*M ». 1 00 Oh* M .nlK,,.»,, . , i l o o

TfUhX-thru*' Vtonttiluttt. • 00 Nil M o M h i . . . . . . . . . • no Ntn»- Mi t t tUi t . t i « t . . tO 00

i i i w i l >tlt» V t ' l U . . . . . . . . . . . 1 fl U0 f V # « AuMllP'l. Ajk

fTs# W t f l l M t t H H M low iThrM* i lr t f i ihi i .* .* . TOO Twi> wVlei • lift I #ii Uoiiih*.........10 oo ThriM' W V V M . I I . I I I I *> l Nltit Monili«.i .n..tS 10 nn# V'Mtth...».»,,. 40*) Ii»»n- Vi>rtr.t...ii»...iloo

f>>sr .*<**>-•#, ^ A _ Oft* W»*k.MMMtM HHHThrtM- MnnttviMM,. tOO Twt» WolM l ( P ) | H l i M<»itlht.....«*..tjf09 thf«»» ^ i k l M 100 Ni»f MunUtt*»•.»..II 00 HnnMMiiMi...«.i«M • ooh'rtf Y ^ r . . . . . . . . . . . 1 1 0 0

Ifmrttr V'ttkmn Ont MfVfc.i....... I OM T#« VV»t>i«t.M,.t» loti Thr,; \ U OK) O n " N i M i t l t i t i t i M t . A 0*) Oft* WlMifc.. | , . M t . . I W Tw» ^VIia. . .M.i, i o o TMtM WvfHt.iMti.to0O o»* M nth.wiuii .1400

Thrvr U^t i t t i i . ,<M.tOOO i*U M o n t h * . . . . . . . . . 1 * 0 0 Nil l* M n h U l t . i . . . . . ^ UO Hrn. Vciir.tti.ti.M.flO 00

H*U fuinmn Thr^. Ui) f t thl .Mi . .1 l00 * U MmttH«t,M.M*»|*00 Mm' Moi i th t . t i t . i i l l 00 • >*•» V.tir , , , , . . 4 0 0©

fHi# W w l t , , . , . . . • . , noo tftti V*iumn.

* ft* VI M l i t t i it i l t t * Wo W<M»t».t. l t|,,M hf..v S V v ^ « . . . . . . . 11 P0

Thrvi M f t M t t i i M i i . 1 0 00 rill Muhlti*.,«,..«*.40 00 Shu Motiihft.,.,i..6fl 00

Ohv M'»u0i..MIII. W (Mil ottM Y v w u n i . . . . . . 16 og TwutVM i«»tiMi ftt»n|*t«il,ur On« lituh, dottitltutt ft

ftutlftfV. Miw»r»' M OsMi, owtpytfit riot mo?* Oirvn out

taurtrr fl |.af pur, I.«**i :fH#ril«vuivttt* (Mtbttihed i t \M f*l«»# titifc*

HtljH »•> In* UfHjH wl i .ftwrtUsmfst nlmtiM to pUtrtly wrttttn

fbf htimlitttif in**rUoh« p**nuUv<t. ttaMMhituiu j'y UHMH to wriu on nnn ihit only or %Vfif%i«*«r u mltfhifiMi for finhi^tilan fnuil b# »u*

{••itttrnU.I hs lh# ttrtiM.1 nhil tt*Mh*» of lhi> writer. A t t < i t ' f i « * y « i «

JAMES W. IHttHY, ittorury trnd toun^^llur at ln*r9

u*r Pour IIKNUY, N, Y.

AitornryN nud <uunsrlurii at law, Uk« U L I / M M I K U I K J W . N , K. V.

Anul) ff, Uttbt IT. UuO 0. PtHflt.

HALU SfifffH ARRLLOOO, M roliNKVrt AND CUUN^KLUUrt, K l l i n h r l l i l u u i i i K M r i Cout i ty , N. Y«

KM4N0I* A. HMtttt, 1000

I l t » l t * l * 4

THE 4MERON HOUSE. KTPT OY IN n i M A i l D .

ffit tft tmCTttTtt\VT«riaMKX COM f* Y«

t 9 t typ«tc i lun«<*

ri lAl l t ' l .At^ VAIJJ1V

I ' l f t t t M l m r f f t i , &• \Tm

I \ t 4 . •!. I IAYNN* W I L L OH AT II1H * UoiniiMiii SVtlllKUli.l.'M KKSV tit>TK!«,(<»

Kitihtfiiktluii *%»i>l CujimUitttuu, HIH! uuprnikuiu \u J tMMtfmif ttit Ky», *ur *ti4Throt»i,tjtt ihiArti nm) UfiM'u^i'Uv v»r wrtoh muuvh, At oth*r Oruw hf

K .ij» initially in< f\>uotl »t hU ft>m<l*hot tn Hnrtituie, T.t *h.»r» ^uttitiit* *re r«cvtw«j for trwuttuvtit.

Oti.vt 'iu fvl t«mi h» obtitiuMtt tit A fftlr r itti lAft^.Mr'M H. liAVNMtl, M t) Hnnitim' N."V.

l l « I M l l l ) - « a < ' I I I ' . l n .

D O r r A N Y A LA MTTDOB,

Shaving &. Hair Dressing SALOOIST,

In Moukl'i IIIDCM, KwBevlUo, N. Y,

" OL1VBR ABBIi, JR., ~ ~ "

REAL ESTATE AGENT, KUZAIlttrilTOVYtf, ff. Yif

Wttt AtTillb fg T H I

Puffh^f and Sale of Item! Estate* iQttAtntnntton or Tttioi,4^c»#t

AW Y MRSO!? WAtfTliCCt A FIHHT-OLANR

IMPROVED HOWE SEWING MACHINE, WAUrtA!NTI l ) t OH KAfOV T R t t ^ l f ,

M l «• *r frMttM d . C . N l t A W i A t l H i

•W>t«r RoiiMvlll*, K. r .

Ll AuiCftL'Y.

F.L.RCEO,

PIANOS, ORGANS m*uiAt»M,

M r c> <> t^ « #

MuMral Horrliatuthe «r»rrally. M«r K I, HlBKti, MarUh Ointrt. tf Y.

Tuttto'uftook A Jab ^rtntlfT| OfTleiT, I'jMtuiiHHnmft lit t H i v i .

.i.\v. Tirrri.E, BOOK AND JOB PRINTER,

nU)r« In llnitrrly's Mow Hulldlm, ' f t ^WKM PITTSBURGH, N. 1.

AM *utfc "IV^UMI tn llm M<it twrn *n*l *\ ihn loW »<it flty fHtMA A full ^MMftinfiu uf Lnw tll«uk« unti ftlAhUt ith hrthrl. M4nr

IHSURANCE.

w CRXYKAL INSIRINCK CO* MSW YO'tK.

OAUtt AfWKTf^Ttf.#.».•«•.•.ii«.i.. 1100,000. Wi J* n « r A r r n i c Y t

Utfttttt. AtftNf run NuMTMinit Mi* Yol l , M.ArlMMUHOM, K. Y.

WESTfnESfKit FI'HE WS* COi NKSY YOI4K.

Atlf RT4|0Vtr«.tt *.#« !.«••» ••.. .* n* MtflOOtOOO W . Jl. ^Irr A l i U K Y f

U l N l i U A«i«f run NUMHIHN NlW Yo«t t

I'l.A'HHlHrttOlt, ft. Y.

Affontw "VVantocl To f»|»M««pnt thM>« iw<« UuitiiH»tiU«« in ibt aiffWHhl t twti iui HM»-I Oimttty.

ttiith ufth#««^m|»tutU« will luittrv ftiPitt l ropPT* tjr it tht> fvf> lawoti rnH't.

Atl*tr«M W. f. MotJArrUKY. 1*11 (Mftttuhii^h, K. Y,

TCr:!winvtt,T,t3 "*

Insurance Agency I Tun ffrittrnftiicfi ti AORWT ron

Hioorrr Vire In^nraurr fomptvy« Riw ton* errti

SprifiKflrId Fire and nartne l is . fo o r MAHHAUHUHk&TTH.

0ft|>llftl.. • • . , i . • , • • • • • • • • • • • i», 1500,000 AilOlft, I H I I M M H M M M I I M M . 88f# * 7 *

Ijeoml&ft Fire insnrance Tonpanfi UUIK't , I1 A*

A ^ ^ U , i • i • • 11 • 11111 • « • , i • • t • • . | C 0 0 , o 0 0

lttdts Klre and Mirinf IQS, CO** UINUI8MAII , ( i l i ta«

Oiih CaplUI, . , , . , , . . , , , . , , • • . | t ,000 t000

Trimipb PirTTti^ttraiie^ re*t tMNOINMvn, I til )«

OapHalt • • • . . . . , , , , , , , , . , , , , , 1*00,000 • • • • H I «4

Amnion Flro InMifitifc foM l.'INL'tMMAtl, t»Ht1,

Onpltnl, i««* 1 1 1 1 , , t , . t , , . . , « , $500 ,000

Mntttal Uffi In^ttranr^ rompanyf Htm TUHK iHTHi

OMh A.W910, on'r , , , , , , . , , l . | f l0 ,000 l 000 . t h u ti(tat|mn| tranrwu hntlitffm emtri>ty on tbt UANll t'l, N, Mint lu t-| tiniu,uiiu A««Mt§ tiicludt mi ttrcmhtm I««M, fuhr«) tt^li*, ur utlier tittftglntinr M\n»#tioim»)iM *f juntl*••.

Tra?itI^^H, tn^nmnre fomjiitiy, I tAHi t'U!U>, UUNN,

Yfi4nFflf tHi»t i i« l A i M t i U u i t uf i%HKItit1t»

t *f*«»h t p H H l f • , . . . . . » • . . , . . . . . , #6UUtUU0 Nwt Hurplui, „ , ! . . . . , . , . . . . . . . . .94 i,9B7

Railway PasHfmr^r A^ttrancf* RAttTfUlth, ^ON^,

O. I), I'M VltOttY, A«pfit< Rttfift»«t'lok J i f i Ut \mi. t4rti

Uono Wood and Black Wulnnt

CASKETS. A ^KiV uTortc , i r<r itiv.rK.i%'Kli IIY

DET0TED TO POLITICS, NEWS, LITERATURE AGRICULTURE, LOOAL INTERESTS, AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE.

VOL. XXXII, NO. 30. REESEVILLE, N. Y„ THUHSDAY, APRIL 25, 1872. WHOLE MO. 1642.

WATCHES AND JEWELRY.

NEW STORE! NEW GOODS I JDS!

0 • I * r r. 8 * •" H 2 " ? 3fc d 2^ P5 =

r 1 • -»I

WILLIAM REED tUijttit rHtwrrn»tl frnm New YurHi mul huftinwon

vthiblttuti til hid *tum*

A n A t l C i n »TC>CTK — < > F -

P O i l K i a H ARD A M E R I C A *

00LD AND SILVER WATCHES, WUh %n end lew varttfty of

JEWELRY, OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, IMIII: ^ii.vru uAIH>,

Of tH« tAtflttt nnd b«rt» itytoR \w\ nrtt fno>tt.

( lo i .n , mit,vieu Axn *TKr.t, « P K I t A -• n i l s

Wi*!ch cha int , fftnga, Ohnrma Thl inblo* . Joweiry, A c .

C L O C K S , * A ttry flno fUttfc. KuppnlKl Attention ^ enlti.t U

hit Ohernt miturtuient of

Hilvor l*lntod Wnro ! Atio, A*em for

Mflt lTOW^ fMLKOU ATRO OOt,ft PIBf» . A rUl.h ABHOU'IMKNI' OF

Dluitli flookft iiiul ^tntlonrry, Uudtnmrm Rff rt flrtt Kl to m\\\ atul .'famine htl

tVoCk *nd price*. Ol.nUKH, WAttMttflAnd.tKWKf.nY wpatfed

>>y uiuerltdct'd worKiu -n i>n «huri notlco, t«ml at the lowetl tormt.

fia«f !to. 8H MAryarHt Ht., hi>ud of Hrtdue 0t,

LUMBER.

P' ,ATT«IU t t n t t M'MHKtt V,VUI>,

BAKER BROTHERS, W l l o t o w a l n itrttl Tit* i n ti

b&AMCKB tN

Lumber of all Kinds. W i t h m t t i frtt- n f r i i t i i f , ftt t i u WhArf*.

W# hftfp thti t»!i*t%«ttft} to Atinnun«" to our pntfrnu Au»l All tntfNMtt'd In tht- l.umbt'r TrAfli*, that tlnre ihn dM«trui*ttnh of our »to.'* hy tlr« Umt Hum HUT, W«* hftve rytmlU on ii nnirh litr»i r iculo incr.aiol our l«)Wi»r And mirhlnpry to double Itp former capacity, And »ecuri'd A full •lock of ho** and l.umtwr.

\\*4 *rv therifor*' pipprtrt'd to ofTwr to Uralert Add CoQuumem, in ((uuiiitULii,

HV BOAT LOAD, CAR LOAD, Oil MCM,

AT PATHFACTOnY ttATKtt,

Wt «lili <d r«tt faFlteutftHi the Attention of Deal-bra to our

Wholesale S tock! Which eotuW* or a lull Attottmunt of

¥ nrrtt TLA^K, iv tvrti PIA^K, i I M I I I I O A K D 1 , F t l i l l l ^ f i S ,

l l l i l l ) U K > « , H A I T K > S , A * .

Ttt« Mftlf dfT'Mod And ftlAlrht-L drnMod Aitd Jotht-td ttr fiirnlnhwd in \tunilUon In thu ruugli.

n r n itir^f i.ocTt H*rnctz eotlnUtl of A lAtfP Araoftnt of

fhAt t in1« l f i Di*mfnt<k i t f t r k f loAv.lf , ^ t t t e Anil n u r r n w ^ti l lnMtt rfltuh P l n i i k ,

S4\ 1 A I M I : i i l J u l t t i ,

AnythlrlM tntnPAoo¥«ttA«6f?t)Fii^nni fUmtock Lninkfr we Are proparvd to deltvpr lo dealers In Any Hottthvrn or K>titorn city At the fit i t coi t from III* AtHiitp, thereby tatlng nil eotiiuiUetoiia and HIMIIIA profit* to the purchmer,

We hate also A very large and euperlof fUtoftment of

c m u t MllVtJlT<4 ntt<1 f,ATH<i, AY CAtt Ott Bt'AT Vh\U.

T o out? Kctutt Vftirons Wt WoUtd «ay We hAVO At frwit fAf© nh<1 cIp6K»« eucceedeU In rcpbielntf our iienoitm*.nt of Bftmonod Lumber, which cuusUte of

Mtf t l t « A * A!ltt (MNADA PINI?*

dfAUt*fitthfl,wldthtAnu* tlilcknrm, dreiBed and it»-lorted for the tnt>i<>.

Ult'ir*. ftelictd, Htietvtitt, tMeklhifii. Unf Rn<t Outli, tlUp Hoiudu, mntched and novihy Biding, I'limd Moar 1», t'trk»*tii, ^''.. with Hemlock and Hpnice, Oe-dor I'uKtrt, LQUIH, PblriMkn, Ac , In ev» ry form and quality. Sfthir ftAKKK ttUOH.

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS, OnTttLfttt !!• Vt IfirilC ABttJtCY.

AOKNT FOlt TUB

ESTEY COTTAGE ORGANS, MORI til (ENTllF., X V.

M M M M M M H M M M

Beitiilful Vol nomana Tremolo

Wonderful Vox JuWlantef i«f*IUYiAHKTH r i C c l . t i a TO 4AD OAIOIRAL Wtftt f t t l

inter oiiQAftft. A Uf«P f Arltty of BAAutlful Btytoi. udrtpteJ to all

requlretnAHte and taetee. Veud for Illustrated Cat­alogue.

Addffttt F . L . niCICD, A f %nU Morlah Center, N. f.

V i f f I n t i f t t m i t t t F u l l y W*rrAnteu1»

P I A N O S o f the beit makere ftiftilihed upon tb»» n»u»i it»M-ral iKif l* 174

Attention* T AntKJti OF wiM.siioitorcm AND

J V irmi iy .

/"/rn/ic /fc«(t //ie Following Wottta t have rented room* of Mr». ArrtAinU Hheldon In

the we«t end of her reeldmioe, and havo comtnenoed

The Millinery k Dress Making

BUSINESS, tneonrtwttmi with A

Ladies' Furnishing Store. I ehall end»»AYor to have my work well done, and

my tfcod* will b«» sold us reasonable us cun hi* buugul tn'tlurlluitton or Anywhere North of New York.

t ask lor your pntromwe fi» one season, after which We will tiiukv further ArrAiigemrtits. ^ M

Mrs. M O. At>^tT. WttlstKifoilgh* April 4, 1872. UJ»ml

Wanted. I^noM 1« TO in \m K-nontr,n nm* Firm on the Plains.

To sober and imhi«IHot|s men rmploytuent %lll bo given the entire semoti. .„

J. O WITHKiUlKK. Vmi ttetirv. ^ Y.. Mnrrh *;i H::. I«:I"

1872. 1872.

Of the Spring Trade, OF

Dry Goods ami Clothing,

STERNS & ROGERS, KKESEVILLK, N, Y.

T r i 8 T A I t r M.KAsri iK IN AX.^Ot XC-n lug the upLMdnK ni our Km ire rfioLk ut

SEW SPRRG G00BS, (ilfeet from Impoitem and Manufacturers, which We are sel l ing at

Popular Prices. We respectfully call your attention to our unusual*

ly large

Stock of Dress Goods, Consisting in part of

Dol ly Vat-den Stt I fluffs, Costnttlr IMutcl*, F o u l a r d Stripes , Truvrll i tff Suit -P«»P-

l ln« , l l t i i s seU Str ipes , L j o n n l*oti-l l u s , l inden S t i l t i n g , Sa t in

S tr ipes , I'repe Frnncnl s f , UrlKhton Mi l tu ies ,SIIk

Pun get'i fttnelt, Oro Oral i i , ami A ^ f K n i t A N

DRESS SILKS, Also, t'OLtiUKUHtT.KB. We otl'er superior In*

due.' inen's l«> 1'uU'haMt-ts of Hilltf. New n n d U e n u * tlfui Shades In

Jdpancst silks niul Poplins, flihCuiiiH Itt l t l . A C K A L P A C A S , ViH\. MO

I I A I It, C A s l l M K K K H . O U K T n N and N K N U l h T -T A CLiJTUM. NKNV M O T U N I N U UUUi>^.

SHAWLS, In nc-w ntul benuttfitl 1'lAids and Strltu-s fot Uprtnit and Hiifiitiivr; Hliwle and Umble I'aUkys; also, llhu k Tlnttit Hlinvm.

H o l l y V u r d e i i S i u k s , Xetv Stylen for MprlhK. Unrriiuck ut A'.Ulv^.S and FAXCV UOVD& U

comple te , and our

Prlvcn Much Lower than Last Season. N e w A7/.A>- and .S'.I/7A'.V, FHIXtlKS, UIMFS

and \ FLVKT.S for TriiumniitH. T h e t'Ft.FllltATFO FATTT Ktfr CIO I AW In

N e w Hliades.

HIBHONS In nil Cuhm ntul WUUh». tti>cicr), Hloves, llanilk* rchiuli*, Tut!*- in,

Ktubrulderles, l.ieen, Untl'inus, l/.n-e Collars, Linen Ctillni'M und .S.-tts, I.A1MK.S' 'II KH,

Tttblo Linens, Napkin**, T*iwel»*, Hoilies, Klne Linens »ii*l Whit*' Ooodn.

D O M E S T I C S , 1 ' 1 Bleached and BroWtt, ut A-K e i - i H * I ' I !»• .••*

llroudrlotlt^t ^o^HUIn», f i inry rnA^I-I n e r e s , toi rfunc, Ai*<> T w e e tit* iv\

MEN AND IK)Y8' WEAU. W e havurece lv id our Hprinir Block of Clntiitntr,

N e w Ktylea and Perfect Ki l t ing Hulls in Men's, Youths ' , and Hovs' Cluthintc.

W h i t e find Katev l>re»*s Hhlrts, Hnspendors, Ttkfs. N e w Htsleii In I'APt li COLLARS, LTFF.S, and

tiKXM' >'.1.V'T* 77A".V ami m.'AKFS. unrr i tock I s i rom tlu» best Mu .utacturers, nnd w o

warrant evvry article not only in quality und make, bnt in Price,

W e havo also added l o ottr Stock a full l ine of La dies', MISSUM', and Children's

snow* AM> sMPprns, t b A W »Nfy/*•.*, and lh*l StwtJ MVrA, wh ich wP liAVe murkud e i iraoidi t tary low.

N o t w l t h s t a n d i t w ttie upward tciid^nry of Goods , We can assure the public, (by our careful se lect ions and cash purchases,) a savin* of 20 per cent on every article In our s lock. Hespeeti'uilv,

HTKKSrf A LOOKUrl , I tecsevt l le , Apri l 18,1S7J. 1W1

Spring arid SummerStylel

1872. Grand Opening

Of Spring Millinery Goods

,V< MRS. H. F, HARTS. * T i i K IlKfiT A»l»mfrMtt!fT OP M I L M -

1 N K U V A N i » Sl'KASS" I M U D . S e v u hiuUKht l ino KeviicYltle, cvtiisUiiuK in

HihboilA, Si lks , Sat ins , A'< UotM, Pat tern Huts aiitt I louucts ,

Flower*, r e a t h e r s f Dresm Cap*, (rape** Laces* Embroideries*

White (foodsf Xcck Tie*, Xashetf YANKHK NOTIONS nf evury Wml,

Pompadour Braids* Trench Twist* m i \ i n s i \ M \ I ; \ , ,

8TUA.W GOODS* HleaditHl ami Pressed. (treat Inducements ottered to our customers , Wil l warrant satlsfHetion in every n s p e c t . KF*lU' inemher the pi»ei»--Adirondack Hlock. K c e s w h l e , Apri l I I , 1*72. 1040

~~~ "Tins ""

DOMESTIC," <rr:.;-

The KINciot Luc* HriTcn

H K W l N t » M A (J I I I NKsi, Kasiesi tu Ope­rate, Mttst Dii« rahlo and Hell-able. Oi cutest

Kanwe of Work, Most

iVrTeet Ten* s iuus , Never Changes whit* In Use , has M Points of Hupe-

rlority over

ALL OTHER

Sewing Macliines. ».r T E R M S R E A S O N A B L E . »'all on or Address

^i. i t t r i t n K , AtfHit, t' l inl >n and L*«<-x U u u u u e i ,

K*< "Seville or l*etit. B r T ' ^ n d inrCircul .u . Ke-sevi l lv , N. V., Mitcti 21, IH7J. U S ?

We arc now Oponino; 01*It tUttCHArltif) OF NKW

Spring Dry Goods, CLOTHING,

and Ladies* Shoes, Which w*» will offer at prices that wilt

E( L1PSE ALL FORMER EFFORTS, If Hr-Mr. Hlerns Will rail nn his customers In a

a few days. RpsttiH I fully

HTKHNr) A UDOKlt^. ftead our advertisement In this paper neit Week.

Keesevllls, April y, 1HT2. ln»0

Received this Day, V T K W IXVOICHS OF

Lady's Fancy Silk Scarfs, Lady*s Linen and Lace Collars

In Great variety, Embroidered Linen Sets*

llambtirRh EdRlnprs i Insertions, Ribbons Lace Edgings*

Lace llkfs.* Frillltiffs* Pnffinffs, Rullliugs and Tucklngs* Now opening at

STT:HNS & nonERs\ Kot'SPvHlo, Feb. 1U, 1872. HWJ3

Early House & Garden Plants, ' f^HlC I N O R H M G N K n W I L L 111) P l t K -

1 pan d Iti se.-ti»on to lurnish a \unriy ul U A M -| 1 \ U K , 13AU1.IKI.OWKU, llH()OtH>Ll, (JKLK-KY.TtlM ATUUS.dci:.. 4 c ,»nd a large, variety ut 11..use and Uarden 1'innis.

AIM>, a !ew tmsliLds I'otatoeS, (Klfigof I tin Karlles). Price $160 a peck -very early and of excelled? qual­ity. .HMIN T. DONUHt>K,Uiirde»ier.

Datod, tVrt Henry. .V. Y. 1039wBt

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L^ootry*

i t i c i i g i H A V R W I N O S .

A MISSISSIPPI HlVF.il HA1.LAT).

Tim Jujt lofl was a I ditcher**, sou, of Southum IllliUdH.

Who sj.cut his early youth In winning j»ln« fr<>*i «»llnjr boys*,

Tilt tin* fuz upon thr upper lip hc^an to vrntttre utit ,

When he went tutu llic busiiiecfl of a stcninboat roit^trtbottt.

l ie took \\U frugal ratlonw In, of hard tack. ImMi ami junk,

Ami sti>le proiiiUctiotisly his nupH from Baek-pur, plank ami bunk,*

'Till finally lie found III.-* Wealth In currency did ranjee

Near sixteun d<diar» and *lx hits, all in (food silver change.

Tim sat a moment on the deck, still ftnr.lnff on his tin,

Then KMsped a pen, ttnd wi'ute and sent hU rehiiruatioii lu.

And from u bankrupt Rambler purchased dice and truck,

And opened rl^ht Upon the spot, ft bank of chuckuluck,

For months he prospered handsomely in raking in the cash,

When u> bin linanecfl one day there ramc an awful Btmteh,

And Just to show that wealth has. wlnga, and very often IIlea,

Til give the idrcumstatiees all, which happened lu this WIBC :

Zeke Slabsides was dUhwasher upon the self­same boat —

Of bell-crow mil fashion was hi.s hat, and coun­try jeana hU coat;

Rut the way lie mude the floapfltid* fly. caused all to* stop and look,

And vow that he wu* busine** In what he under­took.

One day when the cook'n eyes were turned away from Zekc's tub,

Zeke sold to a deck passenger a quarter'.^ worth of grub.

And sirulghtway ntartcd for the stern, till junt abaft the'crank

lfe squatted down upon the deck and went for Juggles' bank.

Zeke slapped hU quarter on the ace, and rushed the gambling through

Upon a scale which noun made Tim shell out his bottom sou ;

And when the cook went back to see what Zckel could be at,

He found htm there w 1th .Tugglea' wealth =towed In his bell-crowned hat.

When Juggles found his bank was broke, senbe, "There's, something wrong,"

And straightway cursed a stream of oaths Just elghtv-llve mtle.s long.

tie swore that he could llrk the Jake that played that thing on him,

And reaching forth for Xekel. took him In the cheek cabin!

Zeke set Ids hat upon a box. and on Tim set hU eve,

And said: "If you have any friends, Jtt=t bid them now good-bv,"

And striking from the shoulder, took him on the nose, ubout,

And all that was seen of Juggles was the hole where he went out.

The moral of thin story Is, a* plainly as can be seen

That if all i* not gold that shines, some ripe fruit may look green ;

And thuse who spend their energies In prating of ill luck.

May see how easy fortune yields when once attacked with pluck.

8 f t A T I ' S - Thebes! and liveliest kinds, for sate by

I lW«MnWr 9M *7t. It. D t'l.APP A CO.

1«!'J4

IVIiRCCjllCLnjy*^

A^HOEMAKER^

Tho rest of tho brothers—stalwart .Tern ninl Htunly Jack, and tho young, grave Ebon—wore out in tho Rummer cornfit'IilK, hard at work, Irat tho third of tho old furinei'H BOUB. Bat on a bench in the far end of the porch, making hhooB.

The pntriarch of the tribe of Hnrlowe, An unlettered man, who might havo come of a race of giuntB, and whoso other sons were nil like him, Baw no wiser plan before him than to apprentice hiH one weakling to tho one shoemaker ; and now, tho shoemaker being dead, Ira held his place in the village, worked at his trade, und between times found it possible to study as few college youths ever do, and to read—so his fond mother declared—everything* It was no com­mon-place head or prosaic face over which tho trembling of tho bean vines fell, and no trade, or calling in life, could havo made it BO. Being a geniuB, this man should have repined over his fate, but ho did not. Tho last and waxed ends gave him independence, and in that he rejoiced* Perhaps somo hope beckoned him onward—perhaps some dreams were dreamt upon that cobbler** bench which might bo realized in time. Now, as he bent over his lust, MISB Lillie Wharton, drawing rein at the gate be­yond, thought to herself that any one with black eyes and golden hair and a dimple in the chin must be beautiful; wondered why, looking for this ideal face in the parlors of Fifth Avenue, ut Newport and Saratoga, and in her own well bred country circle, she had never met it until a year before, she came to tJiin porch to bo measured for n pair of slippers, heard the thud of a crutch, always a trying thing to her nerves, be­cause it spoke of pain and distortion and other disugreeablo things, and flaw the face Bhe had dreamt of until she was three and twenty, but had never before Ret eyes upon, save in a picture in the Louvre

Hho herself was a bright brunette, with carmiue cheeks, aud in each of winch a diamond seemed imprisoned. She looked l*a creature not too fair and good for hitman nature's daily food," but certainly one who knew nothing of human nature's toil and pain, of poverty or grief. She was an orphan, it is true, but her parents died before she was old enough to know them, and she had been petted ami beihtttored nil her life, as neireRscs oru wont to be, when they are as beautiful as Ijillie Wharton.

She took her UUBOOII survey of her ideal faea for a moment, and then called out across the fence ;

"Are you too deep in yonr brown study to think of shoes, Mr, Ilarlowe, or may T come in and bo measured ? Sit st i l l ; you see I am off Dame Durden already; sho is gentle as a pet lamb. What a day thiB is to run wild in ! Were it always such weather, I think we never should have IIOUBCB built; only, perhaps, a vino covered porch or BO, like this we're under. Put a bean vino in your next verses, will you? They are BO beautiful, and poets always neglect them."

"All vines are beautiful, T think,** said Tra, drawing a chair forward for the lady. **I nover flee one but I think of a womrtO. It's a hackneyed comparison, I know, but a good one none the less— tho vine a graceful, gentle woman ; the oak a stalwart man to whom she clings. See, our vines are doing it since they have climbed to the top of tho trellis. They hang upon tho long oak branch there as a bride hangs on her husband's arm, Wore I a tree I should like to bo that oak, with tho vines about my branches Do such fancies Come into your head, Mifls Wharton ?"

He was not a "great stalwart fellow,'* not an oak among men. The thought came into his mind that a vino might never twine about him, I cannot tell you what thought was in her eyes that sho veiled from him, lest ho should read it, with her lashes.

''They were taking their dinner in the Aeld yonder," sho said, "as I came past; Pat tie and Jane were nerving it out to them—as fresh and bright as roses. How do they manago so much cooking? My cook went away a week ago, and I had cousins from the city come to see me, and almost killed myself over tho din­ners. T envy tho farmers' wives their strength ami energy. Yet I am no frail creature. I can ride all day and dance all night, 1 assure yon."

"You know nothing of w o r k a d a y life, Miss Wharton,'' said Ira. "The back is always fitted to bear the burden, I be­lieve, as the heart is." Just a little

nigh caught his breath then, a* though his heart might have a burden on it. And then he turned to her with a bright, pleasant look, and she answered with a smile such as, had the truth been known, sho gave to no one else.

And the two fell a talking—an they always did when they were together, though ouly tho matter of shoes made those meetings—of poetry and music aud new books and of tho thoughts that grow from them. No gentleman of all MIBS Wharton's set pleased her in such talk as this shoemaker did.

j At last Miss Wharton rode oft on her 'pony. She smiled until she was out of jsirht. Theu she grew grave. "Poor ! fellow 1" she said, "poor dear fellow! t But then he is only a shoemaker." 1 Meanwhile the gentleman who hap* pened to make shoes said to himself much tho same thing; bade himself remember it carefully, and remember also the crutch at his side, on which, as the setting sun fell aslant over tho cornfields. he swung himself down to a shady bit of woodland beside tho river's brink, where he lay waist deeu in the long grass, and watched the shadows lengthen.

"A rich woman should never be wooed by a poor man," he said, not bitterly, but a little sadly. "The heart should never overrule common sense. Young ladies are not apt to give their love to crippled fellows who make shoes for them, Smilen are natural to her. She cannot help being sweet to me, for it is her nature. I am not an idiot, nor will I become BO. If I could win her, I would be mad to do so ; and among till tin* things fate has left out of my for­tune, love is one, I doubt not."

And just then a voice behind him, seeming to echo his thoughts, cried :

"Won't you have your fortune told, s ir?- Give a poor old woman anything you like, and she'll tell your fortune true,"

It was a queer, high-pitched voice, with a false ring to it, like the "first old woman" in a play; and the figure he looked upon, wrapped in a great cloak, with a handkerchief about its chin, and a broad hat upon its head, was a mere bundle of clothes in tho twilight, but from the shadow bright black eyes peeped at him—Gipsy eyes to a certain­ty, though Ira had never seen a Gipsy before.

"Here are the pennies,** Raid he, "but my fortune is told already."

*"I don't believe it," said the Gipsy coming closer. "Or if it is, you can tell me whether I tell true or not. Eh ! this hand holds an awl and a last, some­times, and draws waxed ends through leather."

"In other words, T am a shoemaker," said Ira. "Well of course you know you are right, Goon ."

"lint every shoemaker is not like y o u / ' Raid the Gipsy, "You read a deal in books, aud you know the language they speak in far countries ; and what do you after lamps are lit?—write, write, the things they put in books. Fate never meant you for a shoemaker."

Ira laughed, "You are a shrewd wo­man," he said ; "you know how to flat­ter very well,"

"It's a hand that has a good many things in it," said the Gipsy. "Love among tho rest. You like a girl very woll sir ; don't deny it. You like a girl very well.

"I like all girls," said Ira. "Put you love one," said the Gipsy. Did you ever have your fortune told

by a genuine Gipsy ? If you have, you know that sho will have tho truth out of you somehow, laugh at her pretense as you may. Perhaps this was why Ira, paling a little, said nothing, and so made confession.

"You saw her to-day, said the Oip-

This time Ira flushed. "Why didn't you say what was in

your heart?" said the Gipsy. "Tolovo a girl and ever tell her so ; is that the way vou make your luck ?"

"You have seen me talking to a young lady, Mistress Gipsy," said Ira.

"The stars saw it," said the Gipsy, "Listen ! she likes you ; but she'll never marry a shoemaker."

"The shoemaker knows that," said tra.

"Other men work hard to win their loves," paid the Gipsy. "You can be a great man. As for money sho has enough of that. Throw the last and awl away. Go to the great city yonder. Come back to claim her when something is written after your name besides 'shoemaker/ Your lucky Btars bade mo tell you that—the stars that told me that you loved her "

"And f/ii*,'1 "fthl Tra, touching tho crutch under his arm; "must I throw this away also? Have tho stars looked deep enough into hearts to know that?

"If she is a true woman she will love you better by pitying you a little," said the Gipsy, and tho voice fell and alter­ed a little as she Bftid it, and then both were still. Ira spoke first.

"Gipsy,*' he said, "sin(t0 you ean read my heart, why should I endeavor to deceiYo you ? I do love the lady of whom you wpeak. Sometimes I have fancied that were I what I am in all thiugs—just what I am, no more, but with a name of which she might be proud, that I could win her, iiut I shall nover seek to do it* She Is rich ; I am poor. That sets a barrier between us forevermore. Sho is a dainty lady ; I a shoemaker. There is no beauty in a man that I could ever see, but strength ; and though no other woman ever may touch my heart, only those changes could make me ask for hers; that Bhe should become poor as I ; that sho should have no shame in my humble calling; that betwium us should only bo pure love, no pride on either side.

"And this can never be between a beautiful heiress, to whom social position is everything, and a lame shoemaker, who comes of people neither rich uor great, who will never bo either himself ; and if he climbs at all—he is very proud, Gipsy, but that ho cannot help—would not do it for the sake of a girl who could not love him just as he stands now, or who would blush to own that love. Read the Btars again, Gipsy, and find a richer, fairer, and more worthy lover for her, and leave mo, as life will, tho unknown cobbler, who will keep the memory of tho loveliest woman ho has ever met in his inmost heart forever, but will never woo or win her, unless such changes come to him as only come in fairy tales, What do the stars say, Gipsy?"

"That man's will cannot alter them," said the Gipsy, and in a moment more she had flitted away into the shadow of the trees.

Ira did not go home to supper that night, nor did he BCO any one to speak to until morning. He made his way to tho top of the green hill that basked in the moonlight that evening, and sat there all alone.

The lights in the village shone out like Btars come to earth awhile and grown grosser. Overhead the real stars shone with their pure diamond light. But the radiance that caught his eye tho oftenest was that which fell through tho white curtained window of an upper room in Miss Wharton's house—her own room— where, as ho knew, BIIO sat on solitary evenings—not many, for the heireBS had host of friends, as what heiress has not ? And the dwelling was often full of guests and resonant of music and laughter, and the sound of merry voices and of dancing feet. The light burnt long that night, and ft shadow pasRed between it and tho curtain—a graceful girlish shadow, with its head bent down upon its bosom us it was not wont to bend.

Yet Ira Ilarlowe, as he rose to go home­ward, when at hut the light was out, and tho shadow went to and fro no more,

said to himself, "Tt is well. There can 'e wl

athwart be no true happiness in Love while the shadow of Pride or of Shame falls ath its pathway."

The next day Tra worked at hi* bench in the old spot tinder the red bean vines on the porch, and Miss Wharton's shoes were made as daintily as shoes could be. But she did not ride past on Dame Dur­den, nor stop at tho gate that day, or for many days after. A servant came for the little boots at last, and paid their price with a little air or condescension pecu­liar to servants iu rich people's houses when they are away from home, and Miss Wharton seemed to have vanished from the gaze of the shoemaker as though she had never sat with him upon the porch, aud talked of poetry aud music, and romance, and thought that without black eyes aud golden hair, and a dimple in the chin, no man could bo handsome.

Summer went and winter came. With winter the house in which Miss Wharton dwelt while skies were blue, and breezes warm, was always empty— tho village lost sight of her, as it usually did ; but with the early spring there came no opening of the closed shutters, no preparation for such good company.

Instead, there came one day in the place a dry, dusty looking mau in rusty black, who posted a legal notice of somo kind on the walls of the garden, and who, stopping at the tavern to dine, told the landlord that the property was "in Chan­cery," and Miss Wharton in all probabil­ity a beggar. Why, tho landlord could not tell, but something was said about a (In ,v in the old gentleman's will. That, ol course, meant Lillie's grandfather.

The story sped like wildfire. Ira heard it w hen the bean vines were ouly half way up their support wires. Before they had blossomed, a stage stopped before the gate one day, and from it stepped a lady iu a very plain gray dres*, and a plainer gray hat—Miss Wharton and no other.

Ira wus at the gate in a moment. He turned pale as he took her hand. She blushed from chin to brow, Then she said to Mrs. Ilarlowe, whose motherly figure had followed that of her son,

"Will you take a boarder? I have come to ask you. I want to be with peo­ple I know, until I can look about me for means to earn my own livelihood."

"If our plain way could suit you," be-gnu the farmer's wife.

But Lillie interrupted her. "I have no way now, you know. T am

a poor girl who must learn to work. May I come T*

So it came to pass that Miss Wharton remained at the farm house.

She dressed no more in silk attire, nor were there diamonds in her ears. She went about with the daughters of the house, and learned of tin m to miik the cows and churn the golden butter aud cook dinners for sturdy troops of farm hands.

Her hands were not so white, but her step was as light, and her laugh as merry.

In the evening she sang to them ballads that had filled the hall of fashion with their sweetness oftentimes ; and she told the listening girls of things that she had Been and heard, of scenes amidst which she had dwelt, as a sister just returned to them might. And sometimes she sat with Ira in the shadow of the bean vines, aud the two were wonderfully happy. And summer passed, and autumn came, and winter was at hand, when she said to him ;

•Tra, T must learn a trade, you know. Teach me to do what a woman may in your business,"

He looked at her quietly a moment, and then said :

"Do you really mean it?" "I. really mean it," she answered.

"Why not?" So he taught her, And the next night

he laid in her lap a book, new ami bright and yet uncut, which he had brought with him from the city in the afternoon. Sho looked at the title and smiled.

"It is the story all the papers praise so," Bhe said. "The book by the un­known author. I have wanted* to read it verv much. Is it really good if"

"Tell me," he said, und left her. And at her stitching, all next day, she

kept the book beside her, and read it bits at a timo; wept over it, laughed over it, and thought to himself, "Oh, a woman's heart, what a strange thing it is ! How one could love the man who wrote it!"

The book lay open on her knee, when Ira came to her side in the twilight. They were alone in the great sitting-room. All was very still and peaceful. Within, the firelight lay red upon the wall*; without, the pearly gray of sky and landscape mingled. Ira bent over her, and looked into her eyes. They met his, qu.otly and sweetly. He sat down upon the footstool at her side,, and took her baud and held it. No word was spoken for a while. They heard the crisp crackle of the fire, the faint tinkling of the cow-bells from the dairy yard, the whistle of some home­ward going farm hand iu the road with­out—all within was so still. At last Ira said:

"f wish T were a king, Lillie, to offer yon my kingdom, but as it is, my dear, will you take me, with tho nothing that I havo besides if"

Sho answered: "Tf yon love me, Tra." "I have always loved you," he said.

"You know that. There was a time I never thought that T should ask you to be my wife. But now I do not think you will bo ashamed of the shoemaker, or wince at tho sound of his crutch. Else I should hope, that even now—just now— you feel sure of it, and tell me so."

"Did I ever wince?" she asked. "Yes, Lillie." She put her arms around his neck and

kissed him. "It does not matter to mo whether you are king or shoemaker now," she saidj "and anv step would be the dearest in the world to me that told me you were coming."

That night Ira told his mother that Lillie Wharton would be his wife in June. And when the June roses were in bloom they were married—simply and quietly, as poor folks should be. But after the wedding was over. Ira gave his wife a gift.

"The book I liked so " sho said smil­ing. "Only the author s name is in this volume," he said; and she looked and road, "Ira Harlowe."

"I would not win vou by telling you so," he said. "I shall, they tell me, bo rich, and famous sometime. I hope so ; raoBt of all because you bear my name."

I think she shed a tear or tWo. She was in a tiemor of glad pride.

"It is you, then.that all tho world has been praising, and you never told me."

"Are you angry V* he asked. "No,' she said, for I have my own

secret. Tama rich woman still. 1 never have been poor. Only that one house yonder, was ever taken from me, A codicile in grandpa's will, found only lately, left it to another person. I have the most of it, and had my pecuniary ruin published in the village; and I came here to learn the very truth about myself—to learn why I could not forget you—why, when great men talked to me, and others flattered and made love to me, I heard only your voice as you spoke to me upon the porch there among the bean v i n e s -why, through the sound of music and dancing feet, I heard your step and saw you beyond them all, above them all, better than them all to me. I know now —I have known a long while, that it was because I loved you. But if you must hate mo for being rich, I will give the money all away and bind shoes forever. Are you so proud?"

"there is neither pride nor shame be­tween us any more, darling," said Ira, "only lovo Ah! the Gipsy told the truth. What is written in ti:e stars man cannot set aside ; you never meant to marry ashoemaker, nor I that you should, when she told my fortune bv the water­side."

| "The Gipsy," she said, and looked at her husband shyly. In a moment she saw that he needed no confession—and she made none.

"Ah, Lillie," he said, "a woman can­not disguise herself so that a man who loves her will not know her ;" and he kissed her very tenderly.

Shall I tell you that he is famous now, and that she is very proud of him? Shall I tell you what I think, despite all this, that they would be happy, were he still making shoes under the bean vines in the porch ? Perhaps I had better say noth­ing more about it, and bid adieu to them upon their wedding day, and leave all married loverB to finish the Btory to suit themselves.

Ifnrk T w a i n ' * Sporcl! tit the Ai­ding Dinner .

The proprietors of The Ahline gave a grand^ reception at St. James Ho­tel, New* York, on the evening of Feb. 2:M, at which a large number of distin­guished journalists were present. Of course Mark Twain was among the num­ber.

Tho chairman, Vice-President Colfax, introduced Mark Twain in tho following little speech;

CITAIRMAX:—Gentlemen, our thoughts have been directed this evening mainly toward the present, but we should not forget our ancestors, and we have one Rfiitleman with us to-night who has per­formed the sacred duty of visiting the to lid) of Adam and dropped his tear of filUl affection there, regretting that Adam was not there to see hiB descendant, Murk Twain.

Mr. Sutton :—Gentlemen, I give you the health of Mark Twain.

Mr. Clements [Mark Twain] spoke as follows; Gentlemen, I would rather ad­dress a stag dinner party than any other assemblage in the world [Laughter], for the reason that when you make a point, those who have been listening always ap­plaud, and those who have been talking to each other and did not hear it, applaud louder than anybody else. [Laughter.] And if I only had a speech prepared for this occasion, I would take genuine de­light in delivering it. (Laughter.] But I got the notification to be present at thin dinner this evening, at half past 11 o'clock this morning, or pay what I ow­ed to the Aldine establishment; [laugh­ter], and I had to leave half-an-hour af­ter that in order to make the trip, so I had no opportunity of preparing a speech, and I am not one of those geniuses who can make a speech impromptu. I have made a great many happy impromptu speeches, but I had time to prepare them. | Laughter. J Now, it is singular, and I suppose that, but for a circum­stance that happened when I was four­teen years of age, I might have rushed blindly into impromptu speeches and injured myself a good deaL [Laugh­ter. J

This circumstance, which happened when I was fourteen years of age, has always protected me in anything of that kind, and has led me to think a good deal — now, I don't think a good deal, gen­erally (laughter] of what may probably be the moving springs of human action. I put that in merely because it is a good expression. [Laughter.] 1 mean it has lea me to question in my own mind, what may probably have been tho inci­dents in a man's life which have remain­ed with him the longest, whether they were important incidents or whether they were merely trivial ones. I have almost come to tho conclusion that the things that stay longest by a man, shapo his action in after life, are really thiugs of trivial importance. Now, I call your attention to the fact, iu support of this argument, that Newton when he was— well, I don't know what he was doing now, I make no insinuations against Newton ; I don't know what he was do­ing in the apple orchard [laughter], but you know that he saw the apple fall, and that suggested the idea of tho attraction of gravitation—I call your attention again to that expression—[laughter]— and then again, one of the greatest in­ventors that ever lived—I am sorry for your instruction I cannot call his name —[laughterJ was led into this matter of gravitation by having to wait upon his mother while she was hearing a con­fession, and seeing the pendulum move back and forward—there was nothing for him to contemplate—that set him into this matter of looking at mechanics, and lie invented a great many things—I don't know what they were, now, [laugh­ter], it was trivial you know. And Gal­ileo, loafing around in the Cathedral at Pisa, not knowing what he was there for, or how he was putting in his time, but he saw and took note of the gentle vi­bration of tho chandelier to and fro, and through that invented the pendulum, which is understood to have made a rev­olution in mechanics, and I suppose it has, I take these learned things for granted. All these are trivial matters, but they brought about vast results. Now the thing that made tho deepest impression on my mind, and has lasted until this moment, was a matter in it­self essentially trivial. It occurred when I was a boy, and it has protected me up to this time against making a speech when I hadn't a speech prepared. It was a remark made by a friend. He said ; "I could have ketched them cats if I had on a good ready " [Laughter.]

Now at first glance, that dyn't appear to convey an idea, but it does, and the meat of it is this ; don't do auything hurriedly; don't do a thing unless you are prepared to do it. Therefore, until this moment, I have never made a speech unless I. had that speech all set down and ready. This incident is of no consequence to you a l l ; and yet I never made a speech iu my life unless I tried to inculcate a moral; [laughter,] unless f tried to convey instruction, and if I can make you better men than you are [laugh­ter j - it is not for mc to say thore is room, though I suppose therois [laughter]; if I can make you wiser than you are, or if I eau protect yon in ifter life, even as I have been protected, let me do it here, even if I should perish on tho spot [Laughter.] Now this thing occurs in this wise. As trivia as it is, it is a mat­ter to bo treasured, 1 think, and remem­bered. When I was fourteen, as I re­marked before, I was living with my parents, v ho were very poor, and corres­pondingly honest. We had a youth liv­ing with us by the name of Jim Wolfe. He was an excellent fellow, 17 years old, and very diffident. He and 1 slept to­gether—virtuously [ laughter]—and one very bitter winter s night a cousin Mary —she's married now and gone [laughter] —gave wl at they called a candy pulling, in those days, in the WTest, and they took the saucers of hot candy outside of the house into tho snow, under a sort of old bower that came out from under the eaves—it was a sort of an ell then, and covered with vines—to cool this hot candy in the snow, and they were all sitting around there, and in the mean­time we were gone to bed ; we were not invited to attend this party, we were too young. All these young ladies and | gentlemen assembled there, and Jim and I were in bed. There was about four inches of snow on the roof of this ell, and our window looked out on to it, and it was frozen hard. A couple of tomcats —it is possible one might have been of the opposite sex | laughter]—were assem­bled on the chimney in tho middle of this ell, and they were growling at a fearful rate, and switching their tails about and and going on, ana we couldn't sleep at all. Finally Jim said, "For two cents I d go out und snake them cats off that chimnev;" so I said, "Of course you wouldi'* ho said, "Well, I would; I have a mighty good notion to do i t ;" says I,

\ "Of course yon have; certainlv vou have;

Jon hftfaa graafc notion to do it." 1 oped he might try it, but I was afftid

ho wouldn't. Finally I did get his ambi­tion up, and he rained the window and climbed out on that icy roof with noth­ing on but his socks and a very abort shirt [Laughter.] He went, climbing along on all fours on th© roof, towards this chimney where the cats were. In the meantime these young ladies and ffentlemeu were enjoying themselves down under the eaves, and when Jim got almost to that chimney he made a pass at the cats, and his heels flew op and he shot down and crashed through those vines, and lit in the midst of the ladies and gentlemen, and sat down in those hot saucers of candy [laughter], and there was a general stampede, of coarse, and he oanie up stairs dropping pieoes of china-ware and candy all the way up, and when he got up there—now anybody in the world would have indulged, in pro­fanity or something calculated to relieve the mind under such circumstances [laughter], but he didn't, he scratched the candy off his legs, nursed his blisters a little and said, "I could have ketched them cats if I had had on a good ready." Now, I say this, that if the opportunity has so fallen out that I could have had ample opportunity to get up a speech, I could have gotten up a speech thtt would have sent yon all home—happy oi other­wise, I could have gotten up a speech that would have done honor to this occa­sion ; and to me. But, under the circum­stances, I havo had no opportunity, and I could not get up such a speech, but, as long as you live, if you remember the circumstances at all, you will remember that if I had on a good ready I would have caught these literary cats here at present [Laughter.] Now, I won't bore you any further, but will simply say that 1 am glad to be present here, glad to help celebrate this occasion, the new era of enlarged prosperity for The Aldine, aud also calling to the editorial chair of a gentlemen of culture like Mr. Stoddard. And I am glad to be able to ait with so bright a company as this, and hope you will excufte further remarks, yours truly. [Laughter.]

« * • *

"Simian Slmlittm* Curantar." In the Middle Ages, the monks had

this proverb : "If he Devil gets into a house, ho must be driven out through the same do>r by which he entered." Un­doubted :y the monks knew a great deal about the Devi l ; for the chronicles of those times abound with stories of his pestilent doings, and of the miraculous power the monks had of making him run for his life, as soon as he became aware that were after him. Their famili­arity with him is also indicated by the pictures of him, which they have hand­ed down to us, representing him with horns, and cloven feet, and a caudal ap­pendage, suggestive of Darwinian origin. The adage I have quoted implies that when he got possesion of any premises, they expelled him on the principle of "Similia similibus curantur ;" but it is a great pity they did not inform us of the details in their process of driving him out, for it now seems to be a lost art

Jack Frost is an imp as mischievous and playful as Puck; and at times he is terribly malignant. When he is in a frolic, he throws beautiful white wreaths over trees and bushes, and powders them with diamonds. He spends whole nights in oramenting windows with fernleaves, flowers, stars and other ice-embroidery. He is a bad tempered fellow, though, and bites hard when he is in an angry mood. But there is one thing to be said in his favor. If applied to, he will him­self cure the bites he gives, and he does it on the principle of "Similia similibus curantur. 1 If he makes your feet ache cruelly by filling them full of frost, he will draw it all out again, if you plunge them in ice-cold water, or cover them with snr w.

The Fire King is another powerful imp. When kept within proper bound* he does beautiful things. In the coldest days of January, his breath will make a house as warm as the genial tempera­ture of June. He makes ugly, black minerals glow like rubies ; and when he passes his tongue over wood, he converts it into brilliant, waving plumes of red, yellow, and blue. But he is an awful de­mon if he is allowed to run at large. He bites, and his bite is malignant and tor­menting. But if he is applied to in sea­son, he also will cure the pain he causes, and lie does it on the principle of "Simi­lia similibus curantur."

The tea-kettle lid rose by steam, ages before men took the hint and made steam-power available to move ships and carriages. So for centuries, the Devil, and Jack Frost, and the Fire King, were cast out through the same way by which they entered, before the illustrious Dr. Hahnemann discovered that "Similia similibus curantur" was the platform of medical science. L. MARIA C H I L P .

^ • * -

The Listener. Two city boys lost their way in the

woods, and late at night they took shel­ter in a solitary inn.

About midnight they awoke, and, sit­ting up in bed, heard some one talking in the next room.

The boys put their ears to the wains­cot, and distinctly heard a voice say :

"Wife get the big kettle ready to-mor­row, for I mean to kill our young rogues out of the town."

The poor boys shuddered. "Oh, dear, this inn keeper is a cani-

bal!" they whispered softly to each oth­er. What shall we do ?"

After a moment's thought they got out of bed and sprang out of the window, hoping to escape that way. But one of them hurt his foot so badly in jumping that he could go no further ; and besides, the great door of the yard was locked. So they crept into the pig-sty with the little pigs, and lay there trembling till morning.

In the morning came the inn-keeper. Ho opened the sty-door, sharpened a knife, and called o u t

"Now, you little rascals, out with you, your last hour is come."

Both boys set up a cry of horror; and begged on their knees to be spared.

The man was surprised to find them in the pig-sty, and asked them why they thonght him a murderer.

"Because we heard you say in the night that you would kill us this mom-

Then the innkeeper laughed and said, **Oh you silly boys! I never meant you. I was talking of my little pigs, whom in joke I always call my little r o m e s oat of the town, because I bought them in the town* But so it always is with listeners; as the rhyme goes ;

" 'Put your cor on the door 6r WaD, Yuu will bear uo good at aU."1

•^From the Germcm*

- * • * •

Futttt In P r n K f . A little girl in a wretched attic, whose

sick mother had no bread, knelt down bv tho bedside and said slowly, "Give us this day our daily bread." then she went into the street to wonder where God kept his bread. She turned around the cor­ner and saw a large, veil filled baker's shop.

"This," thought Nettie, "istneplaee ;" so she entered confidently, and said to the big baker, "I've come for it."

"Come for what!" "My daily bread," she said, pointing

to the tempting loaves, "111 take two, if you please; one for mother, and one for for mo,"

"All right!" said the baker, putting them into a bag, and giving them to his little customer, who started at onoe into tho street.

"Stop you little rouge 1" he said rough­ly ; "where is your money t"

"I havea t any," she said simply. "Haven't any," he repeated angrily j

"you Httle thief, what brought you here then?"

The hard words frightened the little girl, who, bursting into tears, said "Mother is sick and I am so hungry. In my prayers I said, 'give us this day our daily bread,' and then I thought God meant me to fetch it, and so I eame."

The rough, but kind-hearted baker was softened by the ohild's simple tale and he sent her back to her mother with a well-filled basket

*« • *»

—An old traveler tells a pretty tough story about being lostin the ^oodswithhia dog, where he could find nothing to eat and had to cut off the dog*s tail, which \\A boiled for himself, and afterward gave the dog the bone! We would rather borrow SI(10 than believe that stnrv.