" - A KAKK 00> PO**L JVi»r~Ptllllp. Poor Friar I'htlip loet his wife, Iht'ohirm and comfort of his life; He TBonrnrd htr jri«t like modern For ladles were worth having then.. The world wan altered in his view, All things P«t on a yellow hue: m, •&*{ E^en ladies, < nee his chief delight, : - W«» now offensive to hie eight; _ In short, he pined and looked »*'*f';»f The doctor hoped to nmko a bill. At lMt he made a vow to fly, And hide himself from every «ye; Take up his lodfrings in a wood. To turn a hermit and g;w Jfood. He had a son, you now must know. About a twelromoFith oM or •©; Him Philip took up in liis arms. To snatch him from all female ch*i(M» Intending he should never know There were such thing* a« girl s belOfr* But lead an honest hermit's life, ', JLeat he, likewise, might lone hw wif|«^ i: v., >*> V < tt - The place he chose for his retreat • Was once a lion's conntry seas. . Far in a wild, romantic wood . ft The hermit 's inue coiiagv piood. Hid by the trees from human view; The sun himself oc.uld ecaroe get f- A little garden, tillo. I with care, :v Supplied them with their daily fare--* . Fresh watercresase from the spring, Turnips, or greens, or some such this*. Hermits dont care much what they eat. And appetite can make it sweet! Twae here our little fcermit Bis father taught him all he Adapted, like a cheerful sage. His lessons to the pupil's ago. - At five years old he showea him flower*, Taught "him their variolic names and powenh* fei Tanght him to blow upon ft reed. To say his prayers and get the deed. At ten he lectured Mm o» herbs (Better than learning nouns and1 Th names and >sf trees, Manners and cuotome of the bees J Then talked of oysters full of pearls, Bui not one word about the girl*. At fifteen years he turned his eyes To view Due wonders of the skies; Called all the stars by their right mttyM, As you would call on John or Jametij And showed him all the signa above. Bat not a whisper about love. And now his sixtcrnth year was nigh. And vet he had not learned to sigh; Had islet p ami appetite to spare ; He could not tell the name of care; And all because he did not know There were such things as girls below. But now a temppft raged around. The hermit's little nesE was drowned, Good-bv, then, to poor Philip's crop; It did not leave a turnip top. Poor Philip grieved, and his son too; t prayed--they knew not what to do( f-i?* They prayed If they were And wolves have not much alms If itoey were hermits, they mast Mv«^ Now, in his native town lie knew He hftd disciples--rich ones, too-- Who would not let him beg in vain, But set the hermit up again. But what to do with his young son- Pray, tell me, what would you have dont * Take him to town he was afraid, For what if he should see a maid! In love, as sure as he had eyes! Then any quantity of sighs! Leave him at home ? the wolves, the bain! Poor Philip had a father's fears. In short, he knew not what to do, Dut though, at last, to take him'too-- And so, with truly pious care, He counts his beads in anxious prayer, Intended as a sort of charm To keep his darling lad from barm; That is, from pretty ladies' wiles, Especially their eyes and smiles ; Then brushed, his coat of silver gray; And now you see them OR their way. It was a town, they all agree, Where there VM everything to see, As paintings, statue * and so on, All that men tove to look upon. Our little iad, you may suppose, Had never seen so many shows; He atands with open mouth and eyea, like one just- fallen from the aLlee; Pointing at everything he sees-- '•What's this? what's that? Ob; bore? these?" At last be sees a charm tag thing, That men call angel when they sing-- Young lady, when they speak iu prow- Sweet thing! as everybody knows. Transported, ravished at the Bight He feels a strange, but sweet delight. n What's this ? what's this? oh, hesitant 1" ill "That looks so sweetly with its eyes; Oh! shall I catch it ? is it tame ? What ia it, father? what'<* iu namfefT•. what's • Philip kn«w oak what to mcy, But tried to torn his eyes away. He crossed Wmwif and made a vow-- '"Tis as I feared, all's over now; Then, pr'ythee. have thy wit's let loose? It is a bird men call a goose." " A goose! 0 pretty, pretty thing ! And will it ring, too, will it sing ? * O come, come quickly, let us run; That's a good father, catch me one! Well take it with its to our cell; Indeed, indeed, i love it well!" THE STORY OF AN ELOPEMENT. It commenced by Mrs. Sawyer'sarri- val at Mrs. Muffit'a early in the fore noon, evidently in a state of great excite ment, and full of news. With an air of profound mystery, she dre*^ Mrs. Muffit from the wash-tub to the sitting-room, •and said to her : " What do you think has happened?" Now Mrs. Sawyer was well known in Myrtleville as " newsy," as one who lost no opportunities of collecting the most reliable and startling items of informa tion regarding the sayings and doinpc of the Myrtlevillian& Accordingly Mis. Ha flit prepared her mind for tidings of moment: What is it ?" asked she, drying her hand* on her apron and settling down in a chair for a " good talk." " You'll not tell I told you ?" "Never." " Because it wasn't intended for me to hear. I just happened over to Mrs. Seymour's this morning, and Mrs. Kitely was in there, and the door stood open, and I couldn't but hear what was said, you know, and " " Sut what was it ?" cried Mrs. Muffit, as Mrs. Sawyer paused for breath. " Fred Seymour and Belle Grainger have • loped. " Eloped!" „ " Mrs. Seymour Kittly as I went saw me coming, they began to talk about the news in the mowing's paper ; ut you can't throw me off the track in that way." "Oh, my goodness!" cried Mrs. -Muffit, suddenly, as if some inspiration hftd seized her. " You've heard something too," cried the widow. "No, but I saw Belle Grainger this morning, quite early, passing by here, in the direction of the depot, and she feed on her traveling dress, and her Waterproof, and carried her satchel." " Going to meet him on the 8 o'clock train. Oh. tli* uly, deceitful thing. Think of her poor f.vlier." "And her sick mother. It is awful. And everybody knows Fred Seymour is «§ good as engaged to Susy Belknap." "There! I'll go right over to Bel knap's," cried Mrs. Sawyer. "Some body ought to break it gently to poor fiusan. Poor girL No wonder they went off slyly." And away bustled Mrs. Sawyer to find Mrs. Belknap and Susan in the sit ting room, sewing. It was a keen satis faction to tell the news there, for Mrs. Belknap, being in delicate health, ana • . 1_ VAml1 A AAMMMi was telling Mrs. in. As sooc as they "putting on airs." To take her "do^n a peg," as Mrs. Sawyer mentally re solve* I to do, was a vulvar triumph she enjoyed greatly in anticipation. But it was in anticipation only. Mrs. Belknap and her daughter received the news in a"quiet way, as if the gossip possessed no special interest for them, asking no questions, and mftnifeating no chagrin. The story had grown a little on its way through Mrs. Muffit's sitting room, ad Mrs. Sawyer had now a full description of the runaway bride's costume, and the train was specified upon which the young couple traveled. But after Mrs. Sawyer had gone to take her news elsewhere, Susy turned a pale face to her mother, asking pitifully: " Oh, mamma, can it be true ?" *' I will go over to Mrs. Seymour's, dear,, if you wish it." " Not for the world. If it is true, we must never let sny one knorr how we feel itand her lips quivered. " Fortunately, no one knows we are actually engaged. If it is not true "It seems to come very direct," said Mrs. Belluiap, as she drew her daughter in a close, motherly embrace. "Mrs. Sawyer is a terrible gossip and a busy body, but I never knew her to be guilty of absolute falsehood." . Mrs. Kitely is very intimate with MTP. Seymour. I have heard Fred say they were schoolmates. So it is quite natural for her io be telling Mrs. Kitely, and speak of something else when Mxb. Sawyer went in." " I can scarcely believe it of Fred," said Mrs. Belknap. / " Nor 1. And Belle, too, who has been my friend so long, and her only intraest in Fred seemed to be in his love for me. Oh, mother! I can't be lieve it." In the meantime the story was spread ing from house to house, gaining a little here, a little there, as it was repeated. Mrs. Gray had seen Fred Seymour going in the direction of the depot at half-past seven, and it did not seem to occur to the gossips that, as his business was in New York, this was a sight of daily oc currence. Another one had always thought Miss Grainger's quiet, modest manners, covered a deceitfutl heart. Some pitied Susy, some congratulated her npon her escape. The young couple were discovered to have every fault the imagination of their accusers could sum mon up, and Mrs. Belknap and Mrs. Seymour shared the odium and pity with Mrs. Granger, who certainly should have attended more strictly to the education of her daughter, and given her a more careful moral training. Every mother in SJyrtleville was piti- oosly thankful it was not her daughter . who had so disgraced herself, and the daughters, as a general rule, secretly wished they had had Miss Grainger s chance, for Fred Seymour was decidedly a beau in Myrtleville, and his mother was kaown to have a property from her late husband that would make the young man independent, when, in the course of nature, it reverted to him. He was en gaged on One'of the daily evening papers of the great metropolis, and considered talented and upright, a man who in time would make a name and position of honor. His attention to Susy Belknap, though the fact of their engagement had not yet been published, had been too marked to escape the notice- of eyes so prying as those possessed by the good people of Myrtleville, and his inconstancy was a matter of marvel, as Susy was a maiden wfeam anyrmw) might frave been proud to win. When the 4 o'clock train came in, Mr. Grainger, a little, nervous man, all ex citability, was amazed at the sympathiz ing faces that greeted him on the plat form. A chill like death seized his heart." For years his wife had been an invalid, suffering from spine complaint. Had she died while he was away ? White as a sheet, he turned to a friend standing near, saying: " Why do you look at me? What is the matter at home f" "My poor friend, have you heard nothing ?' "A choking sensation came over the loving husband, bnt he struggled against it, saying : " Quick, tell me! Is it Mary f" "No. Mrs. Grainger is as well as us ual, I believe; but there is a very sad story to break to yon regarding your daughter." Wrath took the place of terror. " My daughter!" cried the little man, furiously. 41 Who dares to carry stories about my daughter?" " Well--you--see," stammered his friend, " the women folks say she eloped this morning with Fred Seymour." " Fred Seymour ! Why, he's head over ears in love with Susy Belknap. My Belle! Why, she has been engaged for two years to Lieut. Weston of the navy, though we did not publish the fact for the benefit of all tiie tattlers in Myrtleville." "I am afraid, was the reply, that it was the fact of these engagements that drove them to secrecy and elopement." "I tell you the whole story is false!" roared the excited father. " I'll make these mischief-makers eat their own words! My Belle, indeed! They must be orazy." But on his way home, Mr. Grainger met the report in so miany places, heard it in such plausible versions, he en tered his wife's room with a very grave face, from which all angry excitement had vanished. " Where is Belle, Mary ?" he asked. " She went to New York this morning to do some shopping. She will stay at her Aunt Maria s to-night" . " Did young Seymour go up on the same train ?" " I suppose so. He usually goes at eight, and that was the train that Belle took." Mr. Grainger was on the point of tell ing his wir«* the whol.» story, bnt on seconu thought he restrained the im pulse. Bare in his own fatherly confi dence in his gentle, modest child, that there was some mistake admitting of ex planation, he said nothing. After all, it was a subject of congratulation that none of the busy bod es of Myrtleville had invaded the sick room, and he easily mada some trivial excuse for going out again. He was determined to sift gossip thoroughly b- fore alarming the invalid, and his first visit was to the tele graph office at the railway station. " Is Belle at your house'{" flashed over train," was the answer ; for poor Belle imagined there was death or frightful illness to cause her father's message when a visit to her aunt's was such a common occurrence. Satisfied on this point, Mr. Grainger quietly waited until the train came in, walked up Main street, with his daughter on his arm, left her at home, and started •ut to defy all Myrtleville. From house to house he traveled with exemplary patience, and followed the snake like coils of the story, till, he faced Mrs. Sawyer, who earnestly as sured him : 7- v: . " Mrs. Seymour and Mrs. Kitely were in the sitting-room as I came in the back way through the kitchen. They were talking, and just as I got to the door, Mrs. Seymour told Mrs. Kitely that her son and Belle Grainger had eloped. They. saw me then, and Mrs. Hot>m<wy ssid very 3 "Here are the morning papers, Mrs. Kitely," just to change the conver sation. " And you rushed off to carry the news all over Myrtleville," said Mis. Grainger. "Well, I thought it must be true, from such an authority." " P'shaw! You misunderstood what was said." "I tell'you I heard her as plain as l hear you now." ? " Telling Mrs. Kitely her son and my daughter had eloped ?" " Yes. I'd swear it on my oath f" said Mrs. Sawyer, as if there was several other ways of swearing, if she ohose to take her choice. " Suppose you step over to Mrs. Kite- ly's with me ? "Well, IwilL" But to Mrs. Sawyer's discomfort, Mrs. Kitely denied the story entirely. Mrs. Seymour had neyer given her any such information, either in confidence or otherwise. Mrs. Sawyer tearfully persisted in her story; and finally the trio went to Mrs. Seymour's. The hero of the story was by this time at home, and eating his supper when the visitors entered. It was an awkward story to tell, but it was told; and Mrs. Seymour's face was a picture ef indignant surprise. "I?" she cried--"I said my Fred had eloped* with Belle Grainger! Why, Mrs. Sawyer, you must surely be dream ing!" "You said so. I heard you," sobbed the widow. ' * "Said what?" " You said distinctly, 'Belle Grainger ran away with my Son, this morning.' " At tins moment Mrs. Seymour burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, to the great consternation of her audience. She laughed till she was obliged to wipe the tears from her eyes; when, catching sight of Mr. Grainger's disturbed face, she said, with sudden gravity : "Pardon me, Mr. Grainger, I see I have most innocently caused you a seri- out annoyance. The truth of the story is this : jfred, as you know, has all the morning papers sent to him on the early train, and many of the neighbors come in to borrow them. Mrs. Kitely always likes to see the iSun, and I save it for her; but this morning your daughter stopped on her way to the depot for a paper to read as she rode to the city, and took the Sun. When Mrs. Kitely came for the papers, I said to her, 'Belle Grainger ran away with my Sun this mornii^!'" "And all Myrtleville has been busy with the scandal Mrs. Sawyer manufac tured out of your remark, cried Mr. Grainger; "but let us bope that the originator of the rumor will be as active in contradicting it as she was in circulat ing it." Pretty Susy was not left long in doubt, for Fred, having drawn from Mrs. Saw yer the confession that she thought it a duty to tell the Belknaps the first thing, hastened over to his betrothed wife, to give vent to her indignation against all tattlers and mischief-makers. Very soon after Mr. and Mrs. Fred erick Seymour's wedding cards put the final contradiction to the Myrtleville scandal. possessing ample means, kept a servant 1 the wires, and was carried to a handsome and lived in a style of refinement that house in the city. Myrtleville generally . condemned as I " Yes. Will be down on the The Law Under which Belknap is to be Tried. [From the United States Revised Statutes. Section 1,781.--Every member of con gress, or any officer or agent of the gov ern •neut, who directly or indirectly takes, receives, or agrees to receive any money, property, or other valuable consideration whatever from any person for securing or aiding to procure any contract or office or place of the government, or any de partment thereof, from any officer of the United States, for any person whatever, or for giving any such contract, office, or place to any person whomsoever, and every person whb, directly or indirectly, offers or agreeo to give, or gives or be stows, any money, property, other valua bles or consideration whatever for pro curing, or aiding to procure, any such contract, office, or place, and every mem ber of congress who directly or indi rectly takes, receives, or agrees to re ceive any money, property, or other valuable consideration whatever, after his election as such member, for his at tention, service, action, vote, or decision on any question, cause, or proceeding which may be pending, or may by law, or under the constitution, be brought before him in his official capacity or in his place as such mem!»er of congress, shall be made guilty of misdemeanor, and shall be imprisoned not more than two years and fined not more than $10,- 000, and any such contract or agreement may, at the option of the president, be declared absolutely null and void, and any member of congress or officer con victed of a violation of this section shall, moreover, be disqualified from holding any office of honor, profit, or trust under the government of the Wnited States. JN France they take chicken feathers, whose harsh stems have rendered them useless, chip the plume part from the stems with scissors, and put the plumes in a bag, which, when full, is closed and kneaded with the hands, so that the feathers are felted together, forming a down of unbroken fabrib and great light ness, which sell in Paris for two dollars a pound. IN Naugatuck Valley, Ot, the ice ac cumulated so thickly on the trees that the bending branches interferred with the railroad trains. One train was stopped ft number of times while the brakemen out off the ice-laden branches. RICHARD HENRY DANA, JR. A Sketch 'of the New Minister from the United State* to Great Britain. Mr. Dana has not figured prominently in the arena of national polities, but he comes of sterling stock, and is known in the East as a scholar and a gentleman. The following is taken chiefly from the American Cyclopedia : Richard Henry Dana, Jr., is the son of Richard Henry Dana, and grandson of Chief Justice Francis Dana, and was born at Gam- bridge; Mass., Aug. 1, 1815. He gradu- ated at Harvard College in 1837. Having been compelled by an affliction of the eyes to suspend his collegiate course in 1834, he made the voyage described in his '1 Two Years Before the Mast" to California, then an almost unknown region. He was a member of the law school from 1837 to 1840, and during two years of that time was also adjunct to Professor Channing in the department of rhetoric in the university. He was admitted to the Boston bar in 1840, and was at once employed in admirality cases. In 1841 he published a manual of sea usages and laws under the title of " The Seamen's Friend," republished in Eng land as "Seamen's Manual." His prac tice now became general in the law courts. He was a member of the Massa chusetts constitutional convention in 1853. Having been one of the founders of the free soil party, a delegate from Boston to the Buffalo convention in 1848, and a popular speaker in the Republican movement of 1856. he has remained at tached to the Republican party, advo cating the election of Lincoln in 1860 and 1864, when he delivered political addres ses in several States, and that of Grant in 1868 and 1872. In 1859 and 1860 he made a tour round the world, revisiting California, and visiting the Hawaiian Islands, China, Japan, Ceylon, India, and Egypt, and returning through Eu rope. In 1861 he was appointed United States attorney for Massachusetts, and held that office until 186#, arguing every prize case that came up in the district. He also, in conjunction with Mr. Evarts, argued the prize cases for the govern ment before the supreme court. Mr. Dana also drew up the prize act of 1864, which repealed all prior acts on the sub ject and completed a prize code far the United States. He was counsel for the United States in tne proceedings against Jefferson Davis for treason in 1867-68. In 1866, by request of the family of Mr. Wheaton, he published an edition of Wheaton's " Elements of International Law," covering the period between Mr. Wheaton's death in 1848, and the time ©f publication. His note No. 215, on the legislative, judicial, and diplomatic history of the neutrality laws of the United States and Great Britain, was printed by the government, and trans lated into French for the use of the ar bitrators in their opinions. In 1867 and 1868 he represented Cambridge in the Massachusetts Legislature, and was Cliairman of the Committee on the Judi ciary, In 1868 he was a candidate for Representative in Congress in opposition to B, F, Butler in the Essex District and was defeated by a large majority. He has been a member of the diocesan con vention of the Episcopal church for more than twenty years. The literary, production by which Mr. Dana is best known is "Two Years Before the Mast" "F@ole«!0 Can't something be done about it? We ore tired enough to cry, and it has been going on for weeks. We got a cord of newspapers in last night's mail, and sat down to the task of skimming them over. Being in a" hark-from-the- tombs" frame of mind we read: " The world is full of snares and pit falls, and the feet of the young are turned into forbidden paths; gray-haired fathers weep for the untimely taking off of their 80ns, who might have been saved by Dr. Jenkins' diamond medical discovery." We fling away the paper, and take another: "Moody and Sankey, the revivalists, are stirring the Quaker City from turret to foundation stone. Thousands of peo ple daily assemble at the drug stores in quiring for Dr. Jenkins' diamond medi cal discovery." We tear the paper into bits, and hop around and sweep the room in three seconds. Then William slides down in his easy chair* puts his feet, against the mantel vase, and asks to be soothed: " To raise good onions, select moist, well drained soil, tvovk it- mollc v;, lay out your beds, mark the drills a foot apart, and when comes a warmish day, go to your home grocer and get good solid sets, and Dr. Jenkins' diamond medical discovery." We choked with wrath, and William squeaked out, " Why don't you go on ?" "You miserable man, if you want ad vertisements, read, read them yourself." We take a " Bosting" sheet, and sail in carefully ; " As there are two sides to every ques tion, there must be two sides to the school question, and the best intellects of the age stand arrayed against each other ob this fateful battle-ground; but, while men debate and disagree upon minor topics, they all assent to the es tablished fact that Dr, Jenkins' diamond medical discovery " We hope this latter day essayist will fizzle like the buchu man. We hope his wife will leave him as Mrs. Vinegar Bit ters has her husband. We hope there may be a special earthquake under his feet that will open a crack big enough to take in one man. We only read the dea&s and marriages now, and avoid the comments on them. If some fellow- sufferer will catch the man and hold him, we'll raise an army and march on to Buf falo with his " compositions," and shout them in ears till he is deaf, and then cram them in his mouth and sew it up, and put his eyes out with "medical discovery. "--Detroit Free JPre&B. Why President Buchanan Remained a ' Bachelor. In ftn elegant mansion near the Arling ton hofceUn this eity, reside two tadieft of the olden aristocracy--Mra. Freeman Mid her sister. Miss Coleman. About the latter lady a little romance clings which makes her interesting. She was the second tod the affianced bride of the late President Buchanan, his first _ love having died in her youth, and until he met Miss Coleman he was almost ft recluse from ladies' society. He was engaged to her when sent abroad as Minister to the Court of St. James in London. At that time Miss Coleman resided in New York. He re turned to this country on a visit, and on the evening he arrived Miss Coleman was giving a grand entertainment. He was fatigued, and instead of dressing and paying his respects to her immedi ately, retired to his room, and early next morning called to see her. She had token offense at his not calling the even ing before and refused to see him, and they never met again. What regrets, were felt the world has never known, but many an angry impulse has wrecked the happiness of men and women beyond reparation.-- Washington Cor. Chicago Journal. ̂ Claims to be an Honest Man. ' Alt officer of the army describes to a Washington correspondent a visit he made the other day to the late secretary of war: In reply to my card a subdued-looking domestic came to me and told me that Mr, Belknap would see me in the rear parlor. The manner of the servant was as lugubrious as an undertaker when he says, "You will now take a last look at the deceased." I had to wait but a mo ment. I heard a faltering step upon the stairs; an uncertain tread in the hall; then the door opened slowly as the ex- secretary entered. My god! Words, fail to express how this man has aged and suffered during the last few^ days. His flowing silky beard was knotted and tangled; his hair was un kempt; great black rings were under his eyes, and hi® sunken cheeks made up a picture of woe and despair that would have touched a heart of stone. I was so moved that I sprang forward with a word of comfort. Regardless of truth, I said, "Mr. Secretary, I believe you to be an honest man." Belknap at this caught me by the hand and burst into tears. He was completely unmanned. He choked and sobbed several moments, when he managed to stammer out, "I am going to prove it to the people of this country that I am" an honest man before this business is over." The offi cer concludes his story by saying that Belknap said repeatedly that he had a much better defense than people sup posed. He has, by the advice of coun sel, kept it back until summoned for trial. Then he claims that he will be able to make a showing that will create a change in popular opinion in bis favor. He was ©specially indignant at the pres ence of the policemen in his house. He disclaimed any intention of running away, and passionately exclaimed that his former friends were trying to urge him to desperation by constant heaping up of indignities upon him. IfiHan In the Raw. A maiden lady writes : Let us take a bird's-eye view of the men as we now find them--men with their " noble passions"-M;heir prominent qualifica tions. What is* their love ? Egotism. Their heroism? Brutish dare>develism. Their cleverness ? Imaginary. Their vows of love? Perjury. Tneir faith and fidelity? A broken reed. And where they are good-natured you may be sure it is from stupidity. They are saving when they are to settle household accounts. Generous toward girls- young, inexperienced chits. Severe judges of morals--toward their wives. Full of devotion--to pretty house, nurse, and waiter girls. They tenderly care for their horses, dogs, etc., and are amiable eve^rwhere but at home. The married man can be olnBsiflwd aB? Henpecked, " 'f Sour' and glummy, " Rakes, Tyrants, Every-tlay people, thirteen to the dozen, Conceited jackanapes, Simpletons, and Paul Prys. Men are like scarecrows--they axe found on forbidden grounds. They are like bees, the hum around and surround the most ravishing flowers, taste their sweets and fly away. Men are like swallows, they often seek the dirtiest comer to build their nests. They are like California gold, sought after in places where they are not found, and found where nobody would suspect them to be. Like organs, their tender- est tones are nothing but wind. Like cigars, more smoke than fire. It would be easy to continue, but I desist, in the hope that I have said enough to warn my inexperienced sisters. Beware of ther»\ or, rather imitate 02c who knows* and make them beware of yon* THE EDITOR'S C KNTKNNIAL. The wayea of time have laahed their . Against our rocking pebble world i \ One hundred times since that great dajjT Freedom's burner was unfurl'd Wi Above the ranks where heroes stood, jM&i- „ Prepared to die at Freedom's call, . Which flr»t rang out o'er town and woo|k»<f F r o m g r a n d o l d I n d e p e n d e n c e H a l l " C Brave colonists with hearts so true They dared throw off their Rallioff voSOS^ (" Why, Uncle Jake! how do yon do -•% Thi« morning? How are aU the folkM Olad to hear they're well.")--and with The steel and sword and bayonet Defend the right (" No, Mr. Smith, - jlOUit posters are not printed yet.") '?*»»» ' r-Jfhey met. nor flinched, nor bent the • _ T o h i r e l i n g s f r o m a f o r e i g n s h o r e ; , , Their cry was " Death or Liberty!" (" Come back, you cuss, and shut ths door War's thunder rolled! Columbia's skiM Were veiled, and lofty mountains sIuMfe-- f(*' A. quarter, sir, will advertise " Your loat morocco pocketbook.") f / i Wiv* • And fields were dyed with many a drojt , - • Of crimson gore--though it did flow-* ." ('" wet shaved I you'll find a barber sttp r' This side--the second door below, Did flow--until the ground was wet And dotted o'er with clotted pool*-- 'K. , »-("No! haven't any copy yet, Jfcfcwl- Tell them to set upon their stoola They fought (•' No!") like the sons of TWjy And drove the British from our shorea That we to-day (" Yes!") might enjoy „ . The peace (Oh, curae the office boresWJ-- The peace (" Whose poodle dog is that f Get out! Now, let the ' devil' come,; ,,. I've 00of for him, and it's fat !")-- The death of--Pandemonium I Centennial. On the 4th of July, 1776, George Washington was 44 years old ; Martna Washington, 43; Sam Adams, 54 ; John Adams, 41 ; Abigail Adams, 32 ; John Quincy Adams, 9; Thomas Jefferson, 33 ; Patrick Henry, 40 ; James Madison, 25; Thomas Paine, 39 ; James Otis, 61; Fisher Ames, 18; William Pitt, 68; Josiah Quincy, Jr., 32 ; Nathaniel Green, 34 ; Edmund Burke, 46 ; Jonathan Turn- bull, 36 ; Boger Sherman, 55; Aaron Burr, 20; Benedict Arnold, 36 ; George Clinton, 37; Alexander Hamilton, 19; Robert R. Livingston, 29; Philip Living ston, 60 ; Philip Schuyler, 43 ; Benjamin Franklin, 70; Benjamin Rush, 31 ; Rob ert Morris, 42 ; Charles Carroll, 39; Ctesar Rodney, 46 ; Edward Rutledge, <vr. Mnnlln'A. 45 : Horatio Gates. 48; JolmRwdedg©, 37~;"jhomasSumter^ 42 ; Charles C. Pinokney, 30 ; Charles Pinckneys 18 J James Monroe, 18 | Tim Pickering, 81; Anthony Wayne, 81; Israel Putnam, 58 j_Rufus King, 21; John Hancock9 39; JBiibridge Gerry, 32 ; Richard Stockton, 46 ; George Wythe, 50 : Marquis La Fayette, 19; Francis Marion, 44 ; Henry Knox, 26 ; Richard Henry Leo, 44 ; John Jay, 31. ~ LIT no one say that the Chinese do not appreciate our free institutions and republican ideas. They have appointed an attorney to represent them in the lobby of the California Legislature, where he is to protect their Ashing in terests in San Francisco Bay by appro priate devices. XHKBI is a family of persons named Rudisill in York County, Pennsyl vania, whose ages aggregate 450 years. They are aged respectively 94, -02, 90, 88, and 86 years. FABMCRS about Johnstown, Pa, s fear that the great number of wild pigeons in that vicinity will remain long enough to eat all the seed to be sown. Pith and Point. A spiarr-n*vai.--The gutter. NOT meet to be eaten--Bob xefifl. "WHAT are you doing there ?" said a grocer to a fellow who was stealing his lard. "I am getting fat," was the reply. A DANBTTRY mail had a bag bf oafei last week, which he calls the Seamless, as they won't have to be sown. Some one stole them. " THIS is spanking fine vinegar," said John Henry. " Ought to be spanking," replied the young hopeful, " there's ' mother'in it." '•Do YOU know who I am?" asked a policeman ofr a fellow whom he had seized by the throat. "Not exactly, sir; but 1 fancy you are the malignant collarer." A NEW dish is grape leaves fried ia egg batter ; it is called a Frenoh dish. An exchange remarks: " We can't think of anything that would be more delicious than fried grape leaves, unless it is a circus poster on toast." ADIRONDACK MURRAY says that " men were made to think and women were made to talk," and the Chicago Time* asks him "to mention any occasion since Eve commenced with tne serpent, when women had to be made to talk.'" A IiAdy on the West Side found her tongue entirelv paralyzed last week-- the result, it is believed, cf playing the harmonicum. The opinion seems to be gaining ground that a harmonicum is of more reed value in a family than a stalled ox.--Norwich Bulletin. "EnizA," said a clergyman to one of his'parishioners, whomne saw with her hair" in curling papers, " if God 'had 'de signed your hair to eurl, He would have curled it for you." " He did, sir, when I was a child," was the reply; " but He thinks now I am old enough to do it my self." HB entered a oar door. When the brakeman came inside and took a key out of his pocket, unlocked the stove, put in some wood, and locked the door again, he asked him what he locked the stove door for. The brakeman shut his left eye, and said he locked the door so the fire couldn't go out. MRS. VENEERING has discontinued a custom originated by her of having vis itors write their names in a book in the hn.ll in event of her absence. Whyt Because the milk man came and wrote : " Bill Smith called to collect a bill of long standing, and is sorry Mrs. Veneer- ing^didn't leave the amount with the girl, as she agreed."--New York Mail. THIS quaint epitaph Miss Kate Field copied from a gravestone near Cyford, England: Here, deep in the dust, - The old moldy crust Of Nell Batelielor lately tct.s s&oVta, ' • Who was skilled in the arte .. . . Of pies, puddings and tarts, knew every use of the oven. » «(i1 When she had lived long enoufb,' • She made her last puff-- A Buff by hA husband much praised-- 1 Now here she doth lie i: And makes a dirt pic Xathe hope that her crust ins; feeiniistg. V A ooitfiiMie profussoi" at Vt, thought to make a night capture of riotous students, each of whom was making his own nightcap, sure, with tko aid of a little sugar. The professor, in his stocking feet, stole down a owrriuor until he suddenly stepped on a jangle of upturned carpet tacks. He gave himself away in an excl&mation of anguish and rage, and hopped back to his quarters. The studious silenee that prevailed next day when he limped into the recitation-room was almost painful* THERE isn't much excitement in De troit over the Black Hills. Once in a while, when a citizen is out late and re turns home to find his wife pacing the sitting room, he quietly observes : " Well, you can be easy in your mind after this." She gets ready to ppur a torrent of reproach at him, but he con tinues : " I had some idea of going to the Black Hills in the spring. I didn't want to say anything to you till I'd heard more about 'em. I -was at a meet ing to-night, and I found out that the gold excitement is all a sell. I'm going to stay right here with my loving wife I' --Free Press. Acquitted by Mistake. A great deal has been said of poisons convicted of murder by mistake,, but the people of Johnstown, New York,, think they have a clear ease of a murderer ac quitted by mistake. The man in ques tion is Frederick Smith, lately tried for the murder of Edward Yest and acquit ted. The prosecution failed, through inability to show that Smith ever had a revolver tikft the one with which the murder was oommitted ; but since the acquittal two witnesses have turned up who identify the weapon as one seen in the possession of Smith, one of them being a machinist who mended it. Of oourse the murderer cannot be tried again, and that is what annoys the peo ple ; but as he is under arrest for arson they will probably console themselves by getting him convicted of that crime whether he is guilty or not. V '