The Sauk Centre Herald (Sauk Centre, Minnesota), 1867-08-29

              VOLUME L
SAUK CENTRE, MINNESOTA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 29, 1867.
NUMBER  13.
PUBLISHED   EVERY   THURSDAY   MORNING,
A.t   Satxk Centre,   Minn.,
BY J. H. & S. SIMONTON.
IS- Office corner Third and Seventh streets,
one block west of the Sauk Centre House.
Subscription i
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR  IN  ADVANCE.
Rates of Advertising:
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Legal advertisements Wcents per sqtW*e tor
the fprst Insertion, and 37& cents per square
ib'r each Subsequent insertion.
Special place advertisements inserted at
states agreed upon.
Yearly advertisers to pay quarterly.
Strangers must pay in advance, or give satisfactory reference.
JOB POINTING'
of all kinds executed On short notice In the
best style.
5H
The Lesson of tlie Water Mill.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
N. H. MINER.
Miner
■&c- Wren,
Attorneys and  Counselors at Law, Notaries
Public and Conveyancers,
Special attention  given to proceedings in
Bankruptcy in the United States Courts.
Sauk' Centre,        -        -        Minnesota. •
Office over the Post Office.
D
R. B.. R. PALMER,
PHYSICIAN de SURGEON.
AS- Residence near the Mill, Sauk Centre, -©ft
w
ILLIAM J. PARSONS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Saint Germalhe street, over Burbank Bros.
St. Cloud, Minnesota.
CHAS. WALKER,
. Attorney at Law
R. P. EDSON,
Attorney at Law and
-Notary Public.
NBdson& Wallier,
REAL ESTATE AGENTS,.
<OIfice over -Philadelphia Store on Third street,
.'Sauk -Oentre, Stearns County, Minnesota.
Business ^Property, Houses and Lots, Farms,
FiM-miiag Lands, etc., etc., bought and sold on
•eonWMssioii.
ATTENTION!
' Is called to the fact that our facilities for making out Pre-emption pa^eis andfor locating
and entering Govemineftt Land with Cash,
Scrip or Land Warrants, are unsurpassed by
»my office west of St. Cloud. A large assortment of Town Plots for the use of seekers'of
Claims on hand and kept constantly corrected by-correspondence with the Land QjHee.
We liave In our hands for sale some ift the'
linost Faa-ires- and Farming Lands ill this
upper counfjty.
nscsuoa
BUSINESS   CARDS.
J. WHITEFIELD,
Honsc &. Sig-n Painter,
Graining, GteSUig, Paper Hanging, &c, done
with neatness and on reasonable .terms.
Work warranted equal in quality to that
agreed upon or no charges made. JOSS" Paint
Shop next door to Thomas & Co's.
Sauk Centre, Minn., June 5,1867.
ej
OHN CHRISTGATJ,
Boot &> Shoe Maimer,
Main Street, Sauk Centre, Minn.,.
A complete stock of Boots and Shoes kept
constantly on hand, and made to order on
■ short notice.   Good fits warranted.
Repairing promptly  done,  at reasonable
prices.  All kinds of Shoemaker's Tools for
sale.
AND OFFICE
I AGENCY.
IS. H.
& REAL ESTATE
Miner,
Lands sold on commission. Farms composed of Prairie, Meadow and Timber Land
for sale.
Persons desiring to enter Land, with Cash,
Scrip  or Land warrants, or to file Pre-
Ernptlon chiijns, can do so at my office
and avoid the time and expense of
a trip to St. Cloud.
Office .over  the  Post Office,  Sauk  Centre,
Minnesota.
R
P. EDSON
Listen to tlie water-mill
Through the live long day,
How the clicking Of its wheel
Wears the hours away.
Languidly the autumn wind
Stirs the greenwood leaves,
From the field tlie reapers sing;        -.. - y
Binding np their sheaves.
And a proverb haunts my mind
As a spell is cast—
"The mill'cannot grind
With the water that is past."
Autumn winds revive no more
. Leaves that once are shed;
And the sickle cannot reap
Corn once gathered.
And the ruffled stream flows on,
<Tra*iqTlir, deep, Snli StHl-,'
. Never gliding back again
To the water mill.
Truly speaks the proverb old,
With the meanirigrvast=-
"The mill cannot grind
' With the water that Is past."
Take the lesson to thyself,
Loving heart and true!
Golden years are fleeting by,
Youth is passing too.
•Learn to make the most of life;
Lose ho happy day:
Time ^11 not bring thee back
'Chances thrown a*»S  ■f*"^"
■Leave no tender word unsaid,
.Jjffve while love shall last—.   ■
4,The mill cannot grind
With the water that is past."
Work while the daylight shines,
Man of strength and will;
Never does the streamlet glide
"Dseless by the mill.
Wait Hot till to-morrow's pun
Beard's upon the way;
All that, thou carist call thine own
- Lives in thy "to-day."
Power, and intellect and health
May not always last—
"The mill oarinot grind
With the water that is past."
Oh, the wasted hours of life
" That have drifted "by!
Oh, the good that might have been.
Lost without a sigh! .
Love that we might once have saved
By a'Single word;
Thoughts conceived but never penned:
Perishing unheard,
Take the proverb to thine heart;
Take, and hold it fast—
"The mill cannot grind
With the watter thot Is part."
^tafllatwi.
LICHKK AMD MOSSEJS,
BY JNO. KUSKIN", M. A.
Is Agent for sound and reliable
FIRE,   LIFE,    ACCIDENTAL    LIFE  AND
LIVE STOCK INSURANE .COMPANIES.
He insures Live Stock against Death and
Theft, in the Hartford Live Stock Insurance
Company—the  soundest and  only  reliable
Live Stock Company on this continent.
N.
H. MINER,
Insurance Agent, *
Sauk Centre,        -        -        Minnesota,
Represents the soundest and most reliable
Fire, Life and Accident Insurance Companies of the Eastern and  Western
States.   Office over the Post Office.
E
^DWARD DREBLOW,
Cabinet Maker,
Main street, Sauk Centre, Minnesota,
Keeps constantly on hand a complete stock
of Furniture, Coffins, &c.
All orders will receive prompt attention.
B
ILLIARD SALOON,
A. DE GROAT, Proprietor.
Third street, Sauk Centre, Minnesota,
Has first class Phelan& Collender Billard
Tables.
Choice Wines, Liquors, Ale, Porter and Cigars.        I'Jf.'v':
s
ALOON AND BAKERY.
0. M. RENNOE, Proprietor.
Main Street, Sauk Centre,   Minnesota.
Bread.-Cakes, Pies, Ac, always on hand. Hot
Coffee and Meals at all hours.   Good
Wines and Liquors and the best
brands of Cigars.
Lichen, and mosses, (though these
last in their luxuriance are deep and
rich as herbage, yet both for the most
part" humblest of the green things that
live,)—how of them? Meek creaturesl
the first mercy of the earth, veiling with
hushed softness its dintless rocks; crea:
tures full of pity, covering with strange
and tender honor the scarred disgrace
of ruin—laying- quiet finger on the
trembling stones, to teach them rest.
No words, Jthat I know of, will say
what these mosses are. None are delicate enough, none perfect enough,
none rich enoughs How is one to tell
of the rounded bosses Of furred and
beaming green—the starred divisions
of rubied bloom, fine-filmed) as if the
Rock Spirits could spin porphyry as
we do glass—the traceries of intricate
silver, and fringes of amber, lustrous,
arborescent, burnished through every
fibre into fitful brightness and glossy
traceries of silken changes, yet all subdued and pensive, and framed for
simplest, sweetest offices of grace.
They will not be gathered; like the
flowers, for'chaplet or love-toKen; but
of these the wild bird make its nest,
and the wearied child his pillow-
And, as the earth's first mercy, so
they are its best gift to us. When all
other service is vain, from- plant and
tree, the soft mosses, and grey lichen
take up their watch by the head-stone.
The woods,' the blossoms, the gift-bearing grasses, have done their parts for a
time, but these do service forever.
Trees for the builder's yard, flowers for
the bride's chamber, corn for the granary, moss for the grave.
Yet as in one sense the humblest,
hr another they are the most honored
of the earth's children.    Unfading," as
motionless; the worm frets them not,
and the autumn wastes not.   Strong in
lowliness, they neither blanch in heat
nor pine in frost.   To them slow-fing-
gered,  constant-hearted, is entrusted
the weaving of the dark, eternal, tapestries of the hills; to them, slow-pencilled, iris-dyed,   the tender   framing   of
their  endless  imagery.     Sharing   the
stillness   of the unimpassioned rock,
they   share  also its   endurance;   and
while the winds pf departing spring
scatter the white   hawthorn blossoms
like drifted snow, and summer dims
on the parched meadow the dooping of
its cowslip-gold—far above, among the
mountains, the silver lichen-spots rest,
star-like, on the stone; and the gathering orange stain upon  the edge of
yonder western peak reflects the sunsets of a thousand years.
Lost, yesterday, somewhere between
sunrise and sunset, two golden hours,
each set With sixty diamond minutes.
No reward is offered, for they are gone
forever.
" Carleton"   writes   to.  the'  Boston
Journal from Wiesbaden :
Thousands of pleasure seekers are
walking, in the grounds around the
Kursaal or public gaming house. We
steal across the square, planted with
magnificent lindens, where are fountains playing, and enter the building
beneath an imposing portico. If we
Wish to play, at hazard, there are men
in gorgeous livery ready to take our
hat and cane. We enter a spacious,
lofty hall, its roof supported by fluted
columns, its ceiling ornate with stucco,
in golden panels, with frescoed walk,'
damask divans, oaken floors, waxed'
and polished. This is the great dancing saloon, where, from nine o'clock
this Saturday evening till the break of
day Sunday morning, the waitz, and
the quadrille will be kept up. There
are coffee-rooms and restaurants, and
two or three thousand persons are sitting beneath the trees in the park, listening to the nausid of the band, sipping
coffee and eating ices, supplied from
these rooms.
There are four great saloons radiant
with' light—-four restless,: anxious
throngs of men and women—seated,:
standing, walking, nervously calculating chances, exulting over gains, bewailing losses. The doors of this magnificent suite of rooms are open to
everybody. The gambling is conducted on a democratic plan ; prince arid
peasant, countess and courtesan—all
may enter and roam at will through
the gilded halls, play if they please,
provided they have a guilder—forty
cents American currency. That man
yonder, who has pale and sunken
cheeks and dreamy eyes, who wears an
old threadbare coat;, who convulsively
clutches his last piece Of silver, who, if
he loses it, will go to bed supperless,
may win a thousand dollars, may ere
daylight have his pockets bursting with
handfuls of gold; or that portly dame
in the chair upon the other side Of the
table, wearing a white satin robe, covered with gold spangles, with a great
pile of gold before her; may go from
hence without a penny in her purse.
Be it one way or the other, the men
who whirl the wheel and roll the ball
will be utterly indifferent. They are
as remorseless as fate. They work for
the bank, ahd the bank has no soul.
Come not here for soul, or heart; or
coiise'i'ence. They are extinei—burned
up. These men and women are animate forms only—flesh; blood, bones,
cords, muscles—destitute, utterly devoid of a soul, of a conscience to be
quickened or animated by moral considerations.
At the first table is a gray-haired
man With a white moustache and
smoothly shaved cheeks. He has a
florid countenance. lie must be at
least sLrty years old, for time is multiplying.anu deepening the furrows. He
is not a desperate gamester—perhaps
plays for the fun of it. He. stakes but
a dollar at a time—loses, gains, loses,
and after a while leav'ss the table. A
young man with a tuft of hair on his
chin and thin side-whisirers, hollow
cheeks, sunken eyes, wearing fl threadbare coat and dirty linen, takes the vacant seat, pulls a lean portemonnaie
from his pocket, lays a dollar on the
green cloth and watches with intense
eagerness the rolling ball. He is poor
and this is the way he has taken to increase his fortune., Luck is on his side.
He is a dollar richer. He clutches the
shining silver, turns it over; gloats upon it with a miserable satisfaction ; he
lays another, "Nineteen," says the
man at the Wheel; and the dollar is
scooped away. The next time he will
win again. He is mistaken; the, bank
takes it. He tries once more; sees a
second dollar disappear ; then quits his
seat crestfallen, looking longingly at
the growing heap of gold and silver beneath the hands of the raker.   .
At the other side of the table sits a
lady in the bloom of early womanhood,
of a fair countenance, and large lustrous eyes. She was here yesterday
evening with a pile of gold before her,
and was playing twenty francs at a
time. She wears a jockey hat with a
superb ostrich plume, -and her rich silk
lilac colored "robe lies at her feet in
wavy folds. When she walks, it is with
the air. of a queen, and she sits there
seemingly indifferent whether twenty
franc pieces are won or lost, and yet
when four successive stakes have been
swept away a slight flush overspreads
her face; she bites her under lip;
smooths the wavy hair upon her forehead, and with ah air of bravado lays
another piece and wins. A little later
every one of the Shining pieces of
metal have disappeared—all gone into
the bank.
Standing behind the lady is a young
man, dressed with taste and elegance,
who has a well-trimmed beard and
smoothly brushed hair; he plays but a
dollar at a time, but lays it doWn with
an air of one who expects to win. He
goes from the table richer than he
came. At the end of the table is a-fel-
low with a hard, cold face—an eye of
the color of steel, who looks not to the
right nor to the left, but only upon the
table. He lays down a thousand francs
in gold. It is raked into the bank and
not a muscle of his countenance moves.
He lays a second thousand, and sees it
drawn away with as much unconcern
as if it were but half a dime. True, it
is not a great amount, but the wheel is
all the while turning and there are not
many men who can afford to lose $200
every minute.
A tall man, broad shouldered, with a
bald crown, thin lock of hair about his
ears, great shaggy eyebrows, rough
features,  wearing a dark suit, with a
heavy gold chain to his watch, lays a
half dozen Napoleons, scattering therri
all over the. table, to divide his risks.
He loses, then wins—loses and wins
again. Some are intently watching the
playing, marking the numbers to- see if
there is any lucky figure. Among them
is a woman wearing a black silk dress;
She has a. long row Of figures, and is engaged in a mathematical calculation to
find out the ratio between gains and
losses. Look at her face narrowly. It
is as cold and passionless as that of
yonder marble statue in the park. She
could see a rnafi'step upon the fatal
drop and swing.-into eternity without
raising her fan to shut out even for a
second the horrid sight. No scene of
suffering can change for an instant the
rigidity of that corrugated countenance?-—as hard as the hardest steel I
She has finished her calculations, folds
her paper slowly, puts up her pencil
deliberately, watches the table,- puts a
double guilder on number twelve, sees
it swept away; lays another—-another—
a fourth ; all are gone; but the fifth
wins—the sixth loses, yet there is rio
change of feature in that metallic
countenance.
There is another woman clothed in
black—bonnet, shawl, dress, all black-—
mourning raiment, perhaps, for some
friend gone to the future, life. JFifty
years ago she was a child, but time has
changed her once raven- hair to iron-
gray. Her cheeks were blooming once,
but now they are bleached to ashy
whiteness. Her lips are thin and at
times they are d*awn tightly across the
teeth. She is restless. There is a constant movement of the hands and arms,
a turning of the head, a quick glance
upon the throng-, now to the right, now
to the left, a constant re-adjustment of
her shawl, a twitching of the muscles
of the face, and when the dollar which
she has laid disappears; there is a gasp
and an involuntary reaching forth the
hand to save it. She had a pile of dollars a short time since, but they have
disappeared. She turns with haggard
countenance to go away} but the attraction of the place is irresistible.
She opens her purse, finds another
guilder, and, while looking at it;
breathes upon her fiugers as if they
were hot. Passion has lighted the
fires, and every fibre, muscle, and tendon, is heated. She wins, and picks, up
the coin with a ghastly siriile at.this
freak of fortune.
Before we leave the hall let us take
one more look. There is one player
whom we must not pass by; it is an old
Woman, with thin, gray hair, hollow
cheeks, toothless gums, shrivelled
countenance; deep-set eyes dim with
age, and trembling hands. She wears
ill-fitting garments, an old straw bonnet
trimmed with faded ribbons, a shawl
worn threadbare, she is' an old habitue
of the place. ■ Year after year she has!
sat by th;s table. Many thousand
francs she has woh and , lost; She is,
low down now, and will be lower sOoh-^
in the grave. Her voice is sepulchral;
hoilow; as if sounding from a tomb;
She has six dollars in the corner of a
dirty handkerchief; she plays and every one is lost, then leaves the table,
walks round the room, mumbling to
herself, her bent forth and trembling
limbs attracting for a moment the' eyes
of all around her, she goes to the door,
looks out upon th« star-lit sky, but sees
no beauty there—no hand divine beckoning her up to a purer sphere. There
has been a time in her life that heaven
was  nearer than perdition.   If there
are voices still calling.her to a better
life she does not hear- them, for she
turns toward the table, raises her arm
over the shoulders of the crowd arouricj
the table, tosses down a dollar and
wins two.
Her bleared eyes gleam once more.
For a moment there is a hysterical
movement of the toothless jaws and a
sepulchral laugh at this unexpected
luck, and though it is hear midnight,
she sits down to the table to recover
the losses of the evening.
We leave her there and hasten to escape from such a suburb of the bottomless pit, where heart, and soul and conscience—Where all that is sweet, tender-,
lovely, pure and holy in this life, where
all hope of heaven, of joy and blias in
the life to come are burnt out of the
heart by the unquenchable flames of
EAST   WIND.
Why should the wind coming from
the east over the ocaan of Water, depress the human body, while that
which comes from the west, across the
continent, enlivens the spirits, and
gives courage, and vigor 1 Be this as it
may, it seems as if some people never
felt any wind that was not east. They
are always "out of sorts." The weather
is just What they don't want. I met
one of those men a while ago, a farmer,
who raised all manner of crops. It was
a wet day, and I said :
"Mr. Nayling, this rain will be fine
for your grass crop."
"Yes, perhaps; but it is bad for the
corii, ana will keep it back. I don't believe we shall have a crop."
A few days after this, when the sun
was shining hot; I said :
"Fine Bun for your corn, sir,"
"Yes, pretty fair, but it's awful for
the rye.    Rye wants cold weather."
Again, on a cold morning, I met my
neighbor, and said:
"This must be capital for your rye,
Mr. Nayling."
"Yes, but it's the very worst weather
for the corn and grass, They want
heat to bring them forward."
So the-man lives in a perpetual east
wind. Nothing suits him, and it would
bo impossible for Providence to give
him weather about which he would not
grumble. I know one man who feels
that our country is on the very brink
of ruin, the government a curse, and
everything to be destroyed-. And he
has .felt and talked thus for at least
thirty years, and yet his-property has
been increasing in value all this time,
amid this gathering ruin. And there
is Mr. Slow, who lives in the hollow under the Long Hill; he has been mourning for years over the degeneracy of
the times, and always telling what wonderful lawyers, and doctors; and ministers there were when he Was young!
He can sleep under any preaching he
now hears, and the lawyers seem to be
young upstarts, or too old to practice.
He longs for the good old times.
Ah, Mr. Slow, does-your weather-vane
'ever point anywhere but to the east?—
Rev. John Todd, D. D.
in the
was re-
was on-
lorne to
TAKING IT COOLLV.
There -is one sensible man
State? He was a soldier, and
ported to have been killed, but
ly a prisoner. He returned
find that his wife had turned over a
now.leaf in the marriage service, and
that aiibthfer man occupied his seat in
the. chiriihey corner. Did he go to
wbrfe slaughtering the false wife and
the new husband? Not much. He
walked in and said : - ** Well, old gal,
how is things?" •' Putty good,Bill,"
said the doubly married . woman, not.
taken back greatly. " Which do you
prefer; the old or the new love ?" She
hesitated for an instant) and then said:
" I don't like to hurt your feelings;
but-rbut—" '• 0, spit it right out.
Don't mind my feelings, nor the other
chap's! I won't be angry if you eOme
down a little rough on my vanity.
Count on me as being amiable: I won't
cut up rusty if you should go back oh
me." " I'm glad you're so thoughtful;
Bill; and I acknowledge that I do like
my present husband a little the best;
but if anything should happen to him;
I know nobody else I would so soon
join fortunes with again as you."
" That's the way to talk ; I'll now bid
you good-hyfe, hoping that no accident
will happen to the other fellow, and
that he will live long to enjoy your delightful company. Day, day." And
the careless husband traveled off, with
his knapsack oh his back, whistling, in
cheery clear notesj. "rThe Girl I Left
Behind Me."—JV. Y. Disjidteh: :
The Book of Joi,-
I call that, apart from all theories)
'about it, one 'iff the, grahdest things
ever written with pen: One feels indeed, as if it Were not He.brew; such 'a
noble universality, different froth no:
ble patriotism . or sectarianism) reigris
in iti 'A riohle book 1 all men's book I
It is our first; 'oldest statement,bf. the
never ending problem, man's destiny;-
ahd God's ways with him here ori
earth. And all in such free flowing
outlines;'grand in its sincerity, in it*
epic melody, and ^repose of reconcile
ihent. There is the seeing eye, the
mild, understanding heart'. So true
every way; true eye-sight and vision
for all things.;, material things ■ no less
than spiritual; the horse—"hast thou
clothed his neck with -thunder?"—."be
laughs at the shaking of the spear !''—
Such living likenesses were never since
drawn. Sublime sorrow, sublime1 reconciliation; oldest, choral melody as of
the heart of mankind; so soft- and
great; as summer midnight; as the
world with its seas and stars ! There
is nothing written, I think, in the Bible or out of it, of equal literary merit:
—Carlyslc
A writer in , Belgravia relates : "One
year, the year cefore I painted "The
Gorsicahs," Lord PalmerstOri took" %
sudden ' fancy to my picture", called
"Summer in the Lowlands;" and bought
at a high figure. His lordship at the.
same time made inquiries after the artist, and invited me to call upon him:
I waited upon him accordingly. . He
complimented me upon the picture,"
but there was one thing about it which
he could riot understand, 'what is
that?' I asked. 'That there should be
such long grass in a field where there
are so many sheep,' said his lordship,'
promptly, and with a merry twinkle of
the eye. It was a decided hit, this;
and, having bought the picture and
paid for it, he was entitled to his joke.
'How do you account for it,'he went
on, smiling, and looking first at the
picture and then at me. 'Those sheep,'
I replied, were only turned into the
field the night before I finished the
hicture.' " it*r,'<i
Ac-
passion for   play   devouring   the frequenters of that place,
 m ■
A newspaper correspondent is involved in domestic perplexities. He
writes :—I got acquainted with a young
widow, who lived with her stepdaughter in the same house. I married the
widow; my father fell, shortly after it,
in iove with the' stepdaughter of-my
wife, and married her. My wife became the mother-in-law and also the
daughter-in-law of my own father,: my
Wife's step daughter-is my step-mother,
and I am the step-father of my mother-
in-law. My step-mother, who is the
stepdaughter of my wife, has a boy; he
is naturally my step-brother, because
he is the son of my father and of my
step-mothev; but because he is the son
of my wife's step-daughter, soiB.my
wife the grand-mother of the little boy,
and I am the grandfather of my Step.-
brother. My wife has also a boy : my
stepmother is consequently the stepsister of my boy, and is also his grandmother, because he is the child of her
step-son; and my father is the brother-
in-law of my son,'because he has got his
step-sister for a wife. I am the brother
of my own son, who is the son of my
step-mother; I am the brother-in-law
of my mother, my wife is the aunt of
her own son, "my son is the grand-son
of my father, and I am my own grandfather.
Wise sayings often fall to the ground,
but kind words are never thrown away.
Cure for Chombra-Morbui
Having used the- following most successfully while in the army, and used
it when occasion requires in oar family
now, we krioW it to be a reliable remedy for cholw a, cholera-ruorbus and the
like, and eari thereby recommend it :
Take of spirits camphor 1 ouncei
tincture laudanum 1 ounce; tincture
capsicum 1 ounce; and- tincture rhubarb 1 ounce, ahd mix them together".
Whenever in pain or cramped, take,
ten drops of the mixture on sugar; If
the attaek.be severe, the dose may be
increased to' twenty-five drops.' Above
all, keep quiet, and your cure- is certain.—-Columbus Statesman.
Monet.—Men work for it, beg for it-
steal for it, starve for, and die for it
and all the' while, from the cradle to
the grave,- nature and God are .thundering in our ears the solemn question :
"What shall it profit a man if he gains
the whole world and lose his own soul?"
The madness for money is the .strongest and lowest of the passions; it is the
insatiate Moloch of the human heart,
before whose remorseless alter all the
finer attributes, of humanity are. sacri;
ficed. It makes merchandise of all
that is sacred in the human - affections,
and traffics la the awful solemnities of
the eternal;
A Denver paper publishes the following pathetic " Ode onto the Friendlies."
There is truth in it; if there isn't much
poetry:
"Lo! the poor Indian," Ac
Noble red men of the plains, pouncing on unguarded trains, where you
come, and where you go, Sherman's
scouts would like to know, burning
here and scalping there, east and west
and everywhere, prowling like the tiger
cat, night and day along the Platte,
stealing boldly at your Will, all along
the SmOky Hill, first you came in parties small, now in numbers that appall,
spreading death and devastation, robbing ranches, burning stations, such
persistent visitations, does not claim
our admiration. Mr. Lo, now quit your
tricks, .surely you'll get. in a fix; now
just stop these ugly capers, or we'll
send you to the Quakers; if our boys
start on the scout, surely they will wipe
you out; go, bold red man of the west,
here your stay is short at best, go and
hunt the buffalo, we can spare you, Mr.
Lo.
A French paper, the Journal de Pon
tarlier, relates a case of premature iri"
terment. During the funeral o'f a
young woman at Montflorin, who had
apparently died in an epileptic fit, the
grave-digger, after having thrown a
spade of earth on the coffin, thought
he heard a moanin g from the tomb.
The brJdy was con sequehtly exhumed
ahd a vein having been opened, yielded
blood almost warm and liquid. Hopes'
were en ter tained for a while that the
young woman Would recov er from her
lethargy, but she never did so eritir ely;
and tke next day life was found to be
extinct.
Thirty thousand enterprising young
men in Ohio' last year promised to love,
honor, and buy "things" for thirty
thousand bright-eyed dames and damsels; and the thirty thousand dames
blushed and whimpered, arid Said they
"never could go through the cererffony
in the world," and they then very
quietly accepted their destiny, and, on
the whole, rather liked it.
An individual "named Stanhope, in
England in order to test his wife's love,
hung his effigy. The old lady took the
matter quietly, told her daughter to go
four blocks to a shoemaker for a- loan
of a sharp knife to cut him down, and
regretted that he had spoiled a new
clothes line. At this the living Ku"s-
band, who had lain concealed in a closet, jumped out, called the woman a
"confounded Jezebel," clasped her iri
an unloving embrace, ar.d at the last
accounts they were tumbling down the
stairs "rolling rapidly."
In a recent debate in Parliament;
Mr. Disraeli had Said that Mr. Lowe
wanted by his plan to introduce
"crotchety men." "What is a crotchety man?" said Mr. Lowe. "I suppose
it is a man who holds the same opinions this year that he did last." The
House felt the home-thrust, and the!
whig ahd tory joined in one loud an'd
long burst of uprorious cheering.
A correspondent of the Rural New
Yorker says.that he has known a horse
that Went for twelve months on. three
legs, from, ringbone, made perfectly
sound by the application, once a day,
of an ointment composed of half an
ounce of red precipitate; half an ounce
of blue stone; half a pint of turpentine,
thoroughly mixed. Keep the hoof
greased.
A Long" Island correspondent says:
"Our farmers here put iri- the mowing
machine late in the afternoon,-and begin as early as practicable the next
morning to stir the grass, and get it
ready for the barn the same day. .
Isaac Rosen, of Chester County, Pa.,
raised sixty-three heads of wheat from'
a single grain the present season. It
grew in a eiovev field; \JjhB