Huntingdon Journal

              «—i»g»iWBiJaBaj^MBa^agB
HBHHHBIHS?
J ournal.
VOL. 48.
Tired  Mothers.
-V little elbow leans upon jour knee,
Your lired knee, tliat h:is .'=0 much to bear : -V child's tienr cye3 are looking lovingly
From underneath a thatch of tangled   hair. Perhaps you do not heed the velvet touch
Of ivarm.  inoi.=t  finder?,  folding your; so ti;!rht: You do uot prize this blessing over much,
Vou nv-i almost too tired to pray   to-uight.
But it is ble3sedne.53 I .V year ago
I did uot see it as I do totlaj-— Wc arc PO dull and thankless, ti^d too slow
To catcli the sunshine till it slips nway. And now it seem!" surpassing strange to mc.
That, while I wore the I)ndge cf motherhood, I did not kiss more oft, and tenderly,
The littlo child tbat brought me only good.
And if, some night when you .«it down to rest, Vou miss the elbow from your tired kuee;
This restless, curliDghend. from offyourbreast This lisping tonguethat chatters constantly;
If from vour own thc dimple hands had slip- ped,
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, FERTJAKY 5, 1873.'
WIIO wori! a ne.it calico dress anil ¦white .ipron, anil Lud plainly come down to milk the cowf.
'•I'm not hurt, tu.ink ye," said Pat, "but I'm not weil. Tli take myself oil. I'll '
Rut as ho arose he staggered and Kit down again.    The girl gtxve a little cry.
¦'Holy angels .above us ! I've se^n tlie signs of it'neforc. It's starvin'ye arc. Sit Btill.    ru  get yc  a  bit and a sup.    It'.s
P^iailmg im iU ^Ulm.
How I Escaped Being Killed in a Duel.
1!V MAIUC TW.'.IN.
The only merit I claim "for the following narrative i« that it is a true story. It has a mortil at tho ocd of it, but I claim nothing on that, as it is merely thrown in
many a one has gone through the  same in i to curry favor with thc religious element.
a strango land before ye."
''Is it to beggin' I'm come ;" »aid Pat, but he could not help himself. He was too weak to go far, and tliere on thc grass he waited uuti! the girl returned.
Sho came with stjauiing, fresh-baked bread, cold moat and red cherries, and filicd a littlo tin pail with milk, and brought it to him, aud Pat ate heartily. She milked the cows tho while, giving him a merry word at times; at others singing the old crooning sort of songs that none but Irish causing.    .^ t last he had fiaished.    How
I could not binin theu
And ne'er would nestle in your palm again ; i dolicious the meal had tasted he only knew, " I'll^Ji'i'il^uL'.!'-''.'.^".''¦Z"*'""• 'Jippe^. I aud  he  turned  to thank the giri;   and inr heartache ^ overcome somehow 'oy tho soft light in her j bluo eyes, caught her hand and kissed it.
f^. -An' don't be angry anv   more than if
heir gown;      ! ., '7,-,       '. i   ,...     x
days are wet; f •'^°" '^'^^'''^ '•"^ queen,' ne said, ''ior I meant ethcm frown! j je ''i3 barm by it.    An' won't ye give  me
i wonder so that mothers ever fi
At little children clinging to their gown; Or that lhe footprint.-, when th
Are ever blacic enough lo make Ifl could find a litlle muddy boot,
Or cap or jacket nn my chamber floor : If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot,
.\nd hear its patter in n y home onco. more.
1 could mend .1 brolien cart lo-day,
To morrow make a   kite to reach the sky— There is uo woman in God'.' world could say
.She was more blt=sfuliy content than I. Uut ah I the daiaty pillow next my own
1.5 aever ramplcd by a shining head: My singing birdling from its nost has Eown.
The little boy 1 u.>ied to kiss is dead!   ^   »   »	
American A-ris-toc-ra-cic.
-American '-A-ris-toc-ra-cie" is rather a pitiful sight to see,
-•Vs it struggles to ape the grand ; Ah ! many a one, if he'd only look bat!; l^pon old Time's well beatenlrack, Would Iind tiiat his ancestor carried a psck Vi'cM filled with many a nice giracrack. Laccs aad bodkins, and various ''traps" Penknive.*, suspenders, and razor straps, ¦VFhich be sold to evcry one, white aad black,
-Vs he traveled all over the land. There's many .1 "snobby"—\-©s, mauy a ono. Too good for tho breezes tofclow upon.
Who rides in a coach-of-four, Who, (if sue woald take the pains to see. .\nd ctamine with e.are the "Familj-Troe,'") Would probably find that her "Ances-trj''' Began with some cobbler of low degree. Obliged to battle with poverty.
To frighten the wolves from his door. There's many n flirt with a turncd-ap no.-e .Vt ever}' poor creature that by ber goes.
-As if they infected the air I Who brags and boasts of her royal blood, Uating from Xo.ih, v.ho 'scaped tho flood. Or Adam—(in Eden first formed of mud), AVho. if thc positive truth was told, .Sprang from some tallow-chandler old. Who earned his living by "dip" and "liiould,'' ; 'I'hroug'a heat of summer, and winler cold.       ]
.\nd always dealt heaest and square. ;>om this timu forw.ard let noue of us bn 80 vain a? to boast of our heraldry, Or brag of our ancient "Family-Tree," Struggling to ape the s-n-ob-o-cu-a-c-v. When al! of us, as it's plain to sec, Whether of high or low degree,
iiave very little to boast! !>ci thc cobbler apply his atol and iasi, The chandler to hia shop stick fast. Uanish ihe high-falutin' "ton," Aud each ridiculous notion shun, (For there's naught so pitiful to see ,\3 yonr 'codfish A-ris-toc-ra-cie,") -\nd let honesty rule the roast.
your name ?" he asked. i     "For what:" asked the giri. 1       "Well, onee in a while I do be  prayin', ind I'd rci}iimoer it thin," said Pat. '¦It's just Jennie Brieu," said the giri. •'Will thin. God bless ye, Jennie Brien," 5.1 id Pat. "an' if iver   I   find   the   gould tliey  told ms  I could  pick   np   in  the sthroets, yo'l!   seo   m-s  again   if ye're on earth."'
"But is it work ye want?"  asked  Jen¬ nie.    "Look ye : go np the road it bit, ami
After I had reported a couple of years on the Virginia City (Nevada) Daily En¬ terprise, they promoted me to be editor-in- chief—and i lasted jnst a week by the watch. But I made it .an nneoinnionly lively new.<paper while I did last, and when I retired I had a duel on my hands, and three horse-whippings promised me. Thc liittov I made no attempt to collect; however, this story concerns only the for¬ mer. It was the old "ilush times" ofthe silver excitement, ¦when tho population was wonderfully wild and r.iixcd ; every¬ body went armed to the teeth, and all .slights and insults had to be atoned lay tl-.e best blood your system could iurnish.
In the course of iny editing I made trouble with a Mr. Lord, editor of the ri¬ val paper. He flew up about some little trifle or other that I said about him—I do not remember what it was. I suppose I called him a thief, or a body-snatcher, or something like that. I wa,s obliged lo make the paper read.a'alc, and I could not fail in my duty to a whole community oi' subscribers merely to save the esaggerated sensitiveness of an iudividual. Mr. Lord was offended, and replied vigorously in 'nis paper. Vigorously means a groat deal when it refers to a personal cditori-al iu a frontier newspaper. Dueling was all the fashion among   the upper   classes in that
ye'll .see a tivexn. There's a man wants j country, a very few men would throwav.ay Imnds for the West. Maybe he'll want | an opportunity to fight one. Tokilla pei- ?''"• _ I son in a duel   caused   a   man to be even
"Give me yer hand for good luck, thin." ' mure looked up to than to kill two persons said Pat.    And when she gave it shyly he | in the ordinary way.
kis.scd it again, and was off up the road to j ¦\'\'ell, out there if you abused a man, the ta',-er!i. The man did want Pat; what j and th.at man did not like it, you had to job he hardly cared, so that, thore was i call him out and kill him ; otherwise you wages. , would bo discraced.    So 1 challenged Mr.
He went with a gang of laborers to the i Lord, and I did hone ho wovid not accept far West, and laid railway track and dug i it; 'out .L kuevr perfectly vrell he did not canals; .and falling ill of a fever, was cared   want to fight, and so   I challenged him in
\ for  by a kind farmer's family, who, when : the most violent   and implacable manner.
I lie grew better, engaged him on the  ftirm. i And then I sat uo'.vn aad suffered and suf-
:      There began Pat's luck.    He saved his ^ fered   till the answer came.    All our boys
I -wages aud bought a pieeo of ground. He —the editors were in the office, ''helping" became a little farmer liimselt; little me in thc uismtd business, and telliSg enough to tell, but ii great deal for.Pat. j about duels, and discussing' tho code with lie slowly civilized aftor the western farm- j a lot of aged ruffians who had experieuce er sort. He voted; ho had a strong polit¬ ical opinion. He built a house, wore broadcloth ou .Sundays, and wx": well thought of by mauy a country girl, despite the "bit iv a brogue,"' whieh clung to his .sp.o.ech as burs cling to ivool.
But Pat never went courting, and lived alone in   his new  house   until   autumn.
\ When tho crops were all gathered  in, and
:: the hay  all made,  he put a neighbor in
jl charge ofhis place and started off, without
!i a word of explanation, eastward,    lie told
i no oae what ho went for, but ho bad a spe-  -
liberty V.i use them, and I shall even be grateful to soe them widely disseminated, so they may do as mueh good as possible. C was young and foolish when I challenged That gentleman and I tliought it was very fine and very gi-and to be a duelist, and stand upon the '-iield of honor." But I am older and more experienced now, aud am inflexibly opposed to the dreadful cus¬ tom. I .am glad, indeed, to be enabled to lift up my voice against it. I think it is a bad, immoral thing. I think it is every man's duty to discourage dueling. I al¬ ways do now ; I discourage it on every oe¬ casion.
If a man were to chalieuge me now— now that I ean fnlly a])pTeciate tho iniqui¬ ty of that practice—1 would go to that man, and take him by the hand and lead him to a quiet, retired spot   and kill him.
"! Make No JVJistakeo.''
A first-rate story is told of i\ prominent man, who lived in Detroit forty years ago, andwho at that time owned more steam¬ boat stock than any man in the Vt'cstcrn countr;,-, besides other wealth to a large amount.
Liko many of the pioneers who acquired great riches, he was very ignorant in all that books taught, but his learning is more like wisdom, and, in common with many who have lived aud passed away, but left, theii' mtirk behind them, he knew what tree would mak-j shingles by looking at it.
He had. at the tima of our story, just completed a splendid new warehouse at Buffalo, and wanting a suitr.blc clerk to take charge of it, "ne advertised for one in the papers. Tiic next morning early, a candidate for the position presented him¬ self, rather too flashy a young man in ap¬ pearance, but the following conversation occurred :
''Young man, when you make a mistake in any of your books, how do you correct it ?"
The  young man explained
Seward-Napo!eon--A  Cliapter in the History of the Rebellion. j
The deatli of the ex-Empcror Napoleon recalls an incident of tho great Southern rebellion which has not hitherto been made pnblic. It is well known that the late Emperor of the French was an aetive and earnest sympathizer with tho South; tbat more than once he seriously medita¬ ted material intervention in its behalf; that the invasion of Mexico and the enthrone¬ ment of Maximilian in the seat ofthe Mon- tezumas was a part of a deliberate plot to break up the American Union. But to what lengths he proceeded—how resolute¬ ly determined he was to carry his fell de- .sign iuto execution—has never been fully known outside of a narrow oflicia! circle. The story of his purpo.se is short but sug¬ gestive, and was told by Mr. Seward to a few personal friends at a dinner party, among whom was the writer of this article. No one who was present will ever forget the intense earnestness and animation ot the great statesman as he related the mo¬ mentous incident. The exact words, so pregnant with eloquent meaning—so sol¬ emn and imp-dssioned—wo cannot in every instance reproduce, but tho sxeneral import is given below :
"It was," said Mr. Seward, "inthe darkest days of the rebellion. Disaster upon disaster had befallen the Union ar¬ mies. Treason was aetive and bold-fronted at "i'('.ashington, in the Z'forth and in the West. Rebel emissaries and their allies v.-ere plotting against us over the Canadian border. Our foreign relations were most critical. Eebel cruisers were boing fitted j out in British ports and sent to prey upon our commerce ; Germany was coldly neu¬ tral ; the smaller European States were indifferent spectators of the conflict; Rus¬ sia was thc only friend we had among the Powers of the earth.
In this desperate emergency I received
Tit-Bits Taken on the Fiy.
I'ay the printer.
To understand truth, ons must live it.
All things are but altered, nothing dies.
The table of interest is the dinner-table.
Portland, Oregon, has a new opera house.
Tv,-in». like mirforti.nes, never come singly.
Sweet fern leaves sell at Slti pcr ton in the West.
Thore is no death; what seems .so Is transition.
-Anger makes dull men witty, but keeps them poor.
To love is the only thing that can fiU up eternity.
An essay on man—A woman's attempt to marry him.
British engineers are at work on a rail¬ road in China.
Ne'ira.ska expects to receive 75.000 em¬ igrants this year.
Be not hopek-.v' for the lily because it starts in the mud.
New York pick-pockets are becoming very trou'olesome.
The home circuit—Walking about with baby in the night.
Philadelphia is making preparations for the celebration in 187tj.
-A good hotel keeper is one that a man can always put up with.
Truth is richer than imagin.ation ; she oversteps it on all sides.
Our homes should bo as holy as our churches, to say the least.
God values mon according to whj.t they have had to walk through.
The worst kind of education—To be brought up by a policeman.
The  earth does not bring forth bat un¬
an autograph letter from   the Emperor of    i„   .¦      , , . , ,   .»
\ .t    -c       i      Tt !)<•..        ,   der the plow which rends It.
a   very I tlie irench.    It wtis   marked'private and ! ^
cix'd to I confidential.'    It began with   expressions !   ./^"^ ''f^<^'' ^.'^"''^ ''"^"o i""!""''
you. Yer
l.et the sausage-man and tho bakor agree To labor together in harmony, Tho lawyer and doetor strive for a fee, Tha farmer his horses woa ! and gee,
-Vnd the tailor attend to bis stitches ! .-Vnd ovcry body right friendly be— Let every one of ns, be aud she. .Advance the good of sooiety. Drop every nonsensical vagary, Such as parentage, blood and pedigree, To the devil pitch ".-i-ris-toc-ra-cie,"
And don't get too big for our breeches f
JElffi" BRIEIJ;
-OR,- HOW PATRICK FOUND HIS WIFE
cial object. This object was Jennie Brieu
Ne',r York was not tho dreadful place to him that it was when he roamed hungry and foot sore through the streets, a stranger in a strange laud. But the city did not keep him long. Out in tho sub-arbs he traveled bofare night fell, and presented himself at tho door of a gentleman'? resi¬ dence he remembered so well, with the confident inquiry: "May I see Jennie Brien, av ye please, Mi.s.s J"' of the girl who oponed the door.
Tue girl started.
"She's at service here."
The girl shook her head. ''It was be¬ fore me, then," she said. "I'll ask," and ran away. In her place returned au old lady.
"Jennie Brien lived with me two months ten years 'ago," said .she. •'! have never seen her since."   .
"An' where is she, inay I ask, ma'am'!" asked Pat.
"I'm sure I don't know," said the lady.
And any one butan Irishman would have
given po-Dr  .Jennie Brien   up in despair;
but he had made so  aura of finding her
that he made sure yet, and searched and
hunted till spring came round, ringing door
bell's and  asking tho.se  who  answered ii
"WliBKE are you going ?" a.-iked every   (hey knew Jennie Brien, but in viiin.
Oiie of Pat, as he was on thc eve of leaving 1     "-'Vt least I'll see tho spot where she v/as
the Green Isle. j so good to me," he s.-iid oue bright Spring
To every onc Pat answered: j evening ; and with .-i heavy heart he went
"Where would I but to .Vmei'iky, where ' out inio the  suburbs  again,  climbed the
uic own cousin is a councilman." wiiich to I fence, and   threv/ himself down   on   the
Pat's  mind   was  very   little less  than a
''J^csides," added Pat, "they say ye makt.- as much the day there as ye maka the year in Ballayhofay. and it's tho plaee lor young meu of intcrpri.-^e." V»'ith which. Pat would flourish his shillaleli and  strut
I grass, where he could wateh the river and i tbe crafts upoa it. and see not far from him ; cows that might have been the verj' ones j she milked that day.
I     '-It seems almost as if she'd come," he
ihought, --as if she know'd I wanted her."
So thinking he watched the sun go down
Hway  to   meet  other  questioners and an-j tmd the twilight gather, aad uever thought >;iTer them in the same wav. j of going—a lon2:ing so strong that it seemed
Soon Pat was on the ociwin.    Finally he ¦ a  power  which   might  draw her to him, landed at Oastle Garden, was   imprLsoned,   burning  his  soul;   when suddenly—and
Pat was neither poet nor student of psy¬ chology to fancy it—hu saw her coming ' Uotv he never could toll. He saw through H bush. .1 fence, n stone wall—saw her eoToiiig.
¦It seemed as if it wasn't wid the cvos.
in such tilings, and altogether, there was a loving interest taken in the matter, which made mo unspeakably uncomfortable. Tho answer came—Mr. .liord declined. Onr boys were furious, so was 1—nn tlie sur¬ face.
I sent him another chalieuge, and an¬ other and another ; and the more he did not want to fi.ght, the blood-thirstier I bo- came. But at last tbe man's tone changed. He .appeared to be waking up.    It w.'us bc-
profuso manner, how he should prooix'd to I confidential.'    It besan with   expressions i   .^""^ "^^•^'' ^'^"''^ ''"^"o I'equii'od the sac- make it all right. I of personal regard for myself, and pain  at   ""'^^ "' ^¦'^^^° ^ro"" '"» mother.
"A  good way, no doubt, to do it." ro- j the spectacle of thc great Kcpublie in thc {     When the heart is cleft  to  thr;  core, plied  the .Old  man; "but  I shiin"t  ivant   throes   of   di.?solutiou.    -Personally,' said j there is no speech nor language.
Napoleon. 'I could   wish tho   cause ofthe |     A   (Chicago German advertises a 'base- Union   to succeed.    But   thc welfare   of j mcnt to rent on the third story." France and   the   force of popular opinion j      -.-    .,   -   ., .,     ,, .,     „ ,   „
»   ,   ..L     •   I- -J    1 ,      louth IS the smile ot the future before
are tiaramount   to the   individual sympa- 1 ,   . , . ,   :   :    ,„   wviuii,
., • '     ,^ • 1 • .      .      •'   t-    I jin unknown being, which is itself
thies.    Our  commercial interests are sen-1 "'
ously sufferingfrom the prolongation ofyour :    /}'.' ""'og^pb letter of Henry Clay was war. -My subjects appeal to me to .arrest thc | ''"'" '" ^^"'^ Haute for fifty cents, bloody conflict.    I must obey the voice of i     A  new  Peoria  paper starts under the France at whatever cost.    You caunot put I burden of "Injunction" for a name, down the  rebellion : embrace   the earliest I     To the contemplative soul  there  is   no opportunity to make terms with the South, j littleness; the least of things is infinite If you fail to do this, I shall feel compelled, ;     t^y,^ 8^1,,^ inundation destroyed 12,000
! another aspirant put ii; an appear.ince. A similar qucstimi wjs asked him, and in a long and eloquent manner he pointed out the reaieily iu all such cases.
A11 tho reply wa--: -'Young man 1 shan't want you."
Some three or four othei's dropped in during the d ly, and to each oue the same question was put, and they all had some smart w,ay oi' covering up errors in their books.
in the interests of my country—in the in-
The old gentleman was   entirely  igno-   terests of   civilization—to  intervene with rant himself of the art of book-keeping, i all tlie power at my command.' but he had wisdom in all thiugs, which is I     --1 answered Napoleon's insulting letter more than a match for learning. | immediately.    I did   not waste   words in
Just  at   tho close of the d-ay a plainly j compliments. I said : This a is family quar- dressed man with a bright eye and a brisk   rei. We propose to settle it in our own way
stop called for tho situation.
'-Take  a s'oat, sir,''' said the old gentle-
coming apparent th.at he was going to fight   ma.,.   ¦•! want to ask you one question me, after all.    1 ought to have known how   When you make a  false' entjy  on  your it would be—he was a man who could nev- j books, how do you go to work   to   correct er be depended upon.    Our boys v.'ere ex- j Jt'/" ultant.    I was not, though   I   tried to be. |     Turning  upon  his  questioner  a  cold.
robbetl, neglected, except Avhen be was made a fool of, and ill iLsed generally, iu company with otiier steerage folks— until he was at last cast adrift in the great I'itj' of New Y^ork, his ''chi'st" gone, also his purse—"one crowu piece," like "Ja¬ mie's," his "ouly store," and no prospect. [ but I saw her," said Pat, afterward. ¦ li" making the crown a pound. |     She camo on steadily, surely.    He knew
His first thought waa of his cousin, the ! sbe was in the lane beyond before he saw conncilmao. Alas ! tbat relative having j ber climb the fence and stand in a fright- shaken off tho last bit of Irish bog front I ened .sort of a vvay beside it. and he sttirted ilis ibet, with the purchase of a new brown | "p and went towards her. Then she gave stone front, and naturally considered him- : a scream, self one of the aristocracy, iiad no desiro to renew thc loug dropped acquaintance. He presented Pat with five dollars, and intimated th.-it his oflieial business en- gro(<,sed hiui to the exclusion of every thing else, and that really he had "no time lor receiving calls." I'at t'arew the money ill his lace, and trudged a.vay to try -in- j icroriso" bv himself, now that his influen-
doii't
here
"  .said hat re-
¦'Jennie Brien I'.at, "it's lue."
And she said :   '-Who members Jennie Brien ?"
She was worn, and thin, and altered. Her dress was wretched ; her voice was sad, but Pat's heart thrilled at its sound.
"You Siived my life here ouce," he said. "You fed me when I was starving. I said i tiai friend had for.saken him. lie was not { if iver the gould came you should see me, a bashful man and he had strong arms and ¦ and here I am. I'm a well-to-do i'armer, legs, and a. genera! air of willingness, but j Jennie, and I'm come to marry you if tht-re were so many before him; nn lack 1 you'll have me. All these years I've kept of ruddy Irishmen any where. Tho pen- i a thought of ye. Just spake a kind word, nies melted away—the crown pieee was | darlint. and aiso me heart." etiunged and followed, and still there is uo j "But I'm uot the same at all I was v.ork to be found.    Pat betook himself to | thin." she said.    [ went   to   service in a
llio river.
'I'he suburbs of New Y'ork are green itiid fresh by the river side iu Summer; and jusl, there lay a gentleman's residence. The garden sloped gently to tho riviu-, ;ind ended in a green meadow where two c.t.ts were grazing. Under a great tree just thero, Pat laid himself dov.'n, covered his fa!!0 with his bunds and wept.
"Oh. for the bit of a shanty at Ballay- iiofay again, and thc kind v.'ord of the old
sickly place, cud took ill, and I've been in the hospital very low, aud I left it yester¬ day. Ilio muney is gone, and ladies think I I'-o'i uio wake to work; an' I was fright ened for -what was comin' to me, wheu it seemed all ofa sudden some ono called me; and thc c-.'' just went before till itbro-jght uie here. -An' I thought of you the while. Och ! but it's strange, Pat.'' "It was me ealiin' ye said Pat. The angels took the call  to ye.    Och,
mother  who'ji  never  see  her boy tigain 1 ¦ darlint I jist spake a word of kindness, and i Och it's hard to .starve in a str.iuge   hand : | tell mc I don't call for nothing." ¦Only ju.st to be back to old Ireland  again |     And Jennie answered as he  liked, and and die there." j Pat took   a wife   back with   him   to his
"An' what are ye talkin' of dyin' for ?" 1 Western farm in a day or two. -aill a voice, "is it hurt ye are 't" "I don't know what  it   was." says   Pat
And Pat looked up to see a girl b-jnding | when lie tells the story, "but the heart .-if over him—.1 buxom servant girl, with j me called, and the heart of her heard some- rniind blue eyes and gloriouu colden   hair, ; how : and that's as true as Gospel !"
It was now time to go out and praetice. It was the custom there to fight duels with navy six shooters at fifteen paces—load and empty till the game for tho furneral was secured. Wo went to % littic ravine jnst outside of town, and borrowed a barn door fur a target—borrowed it of a gentle¬ man who was absent—and we stood this bara door up, and stood a rail on end against the middle of it, to represent Lord, and put!'. squash on the top of the rail to represent his head. He was a very tall, lean creature, tho poorest sort of material for a duel—nothing but a linc shot could "fetch" him, and even then he might .sjilit your bullet. Exaggeration aside, the rail was, of eourse, a little too thin to represent his body aoeurately, but tho squash was all right. If there was any intellectual diflerence between the squash and his head, it was in favor of the squash.
Well, I practiced and practiced at thc barn door, and could not hit it; and I practiced at the rail, and could nothit that, and I tried hard for the squash, and could not hit the squash. I would have been di.sheartcned, but that occasionally I crip¬ pled one of tho boys, and that encouraged me to hope.
At last we began to hear pistol shots near by, in thc next ravine. We kneiv what they meant I The other party were out practicing too. Then I was in tho last degree distressed ; lor of course tho.5e people wonld hear oar shots, tmd they would send spies over the ridge, and the spies would find my barn door without a wound or scratch and that would simply be the end of me—for of course that other mau would immediately become as blood¬ thirsty as I Wiis.
Justat this moment a littic bird, uo larger than a sparro"iV, flev,- 'oy and lit on a sage bush about thirty paces away, and my little second, Steve Gilli.-i, who wasamateh- less marksman with a pistol—much better than I waa—snatched out his revolver and shot the bird's head off ! We all rau to pick up thc game, and sure enough, just at this moment, some of the other duelists camo reconnoitcring over the little, ridge. They ran out to our group to see what the matter was ; and v,'lien they saw the bird. Lord's second .said:
¦'That's a splendid shot. How far off was it ?"
Steve said with some indifterenci: :
"Oh, no great distance. .Vbout thirty paces."
"My man—Twain."
"'The mischief ho did 1 Can he do that often ?"
"Vv'ell—yes. He can do it about—wel! —about- four times out of five."
I knew the little rascal was lying, but I never said anything, I never told him so. He was of a disposition to invite confidence of that kind, so I let the matter rest. But it was a comfort to see those people look sick, and see their under jaws drop, when Steve made thess statements. They went oft" and got Lord and took him home ; and when wc got home there was a note saying that ?ilr.   Lord   peremptorily   declined to
fight:
it was il narrow escape. AVo fonnd out afterwards that Lord hit his mark thirteen times iu e"tu;hteed shots, ff he had put those thirteen bullets through mc, it would have narrowed my sphere of useful¬ ness a goad deal—would havo well nigh closed it, in fact. True, they could have put pegs in the holes, and used me for a hat rack.
I have written this true inoident of my peisonal history for one purpose, and one ])urpose only—to w.arn the youth of the day a::;iinst thc pernicious praetice of duel¬ ing, and to plead with theiu t.} war against it. If the remarks and suggestions I am making ean bo   of any service   to Sunday
sharp  look, the young man replied :    "I don't mako that kind of mistakes, .sir."
"Ah i my dear sir, yon .are just the man I have been looking for till day," and in a few moments after, the man who corrected his blunders by aot making theni. was in- Ptidled in the office.
Flirting with Strangers.
and in our own time. Wcdo not wish the assistance of outsiders ; we will not brook interference. The American Union is to be preserved. It. shall be preserved if it takes twenty years to do it. Tho war is hardly commenced yet; the people are just beginning to warm to the work. Wewish to be on good terms with our neighbors— wo wish especially to be on good terms with France, our ancient friend and ally. But you must keep hands off. Ifyou pre- suuic to interfere, we will show you what a free people battling ibr National existence
rats, and there is now a corner in the mar ket.
Animals are truly neither father nor mother; they arc but the workmen of na¬ ture.
The sting of a bee carries conviction with it. It makes a man a believer at onee.
He who cheerfully commits the uni¬ verse to God has nothing in the universe to fear.
Athens, Ga., prosperoaslj' began the new year with a surplus of one cent in the treasury.
Ex-Senator Gwin, otherwise Duke of Sonera, has sold his silver mine for Sl,- 000,000.
Here is thc newest floral '-sentiaient"—
The Seven Wonders oftho World.
Although every school boy and girl in the land have read ofthe "seven wonders of the world," and every person of any in¬ telligence has either reader heard of them, the New York Star thinks that ninety- nine persons out ofa hundrod who might be asked the question could not name them, 'fhey are thc Pyramids—the mys¬ tery of the past—the enigma of the pres¬ ent—and the enduring for the future ages of this world. The temple, thc walls and hanging gardens of Bablyon,- thc mo.st celebrated city of A^.syria, and the resi¬ dence of the kingi; of that country after the destruction of Nineveh. The Chry¬ selephantine statute of Jupiter Olympius, the most renowned work of Phidias, the illustrious artist of Greece. The statue was formed of gold, and was sitting on a thronp almo.st touching the summit of the temple, which was seventy feet high. The Temple of Diana at Ephesus, which was 220 yoars building, and which was 423 feet in length and 220 in breadth, and supported by 127 marble columns ofthe lonie order, CO feet high. The Mausoi- eu-di at Halicaruassus, erected in the mem¬ ory of Ma-usolus, tlie King of Caria. byhis wife Artemesia, B. C. ito'i. Thc Pharos at Alexandria, a light house erected by Ptolemy Soter at the entrance of the har¬ bor cf Alexandria. It was 450 leet high, and could be seen at a distance of 100 miles, and upon whi«'n was inscribed, "King Ptolemy to the gods, saviour, for the benofit of sailors." Lastly, the Co¬ lossus at Rhodes, a brazen image of Apollo, 103 Grecian feet in height, and which was to be located at the.entrance of onc of the harbors ofthe city of Rhodes.
Some Facts for Young America.
Governor Palmer, of Illinois, was a countrj- blacksmith once, and began his political career in Macoupin county. A circuit judge in the central part of Illinois was a tailor, as w.as ex-President .Johnson also. Stephen flirard, who died worth millions, began by bottling cider. -J. B. Benjamin could not read tt the age of eighteen. A. T. Stewart began life poor. Mr. Bennett, of thc Herald, made several failures before he got a fair start. JIr. Greeley, whose death a nation is mourn¬ ing, began life a printer's apprentice. Thomas Hayn. a rich and eminent lawyer of Illinois, was once a 'nook-binder. Eras- tus Corning, of New Y'"ork, too lame to do hard labor, commenced as a shop boy in Albany. When he applied for employ¬ ment iirst, he was asked; "Why, my little boy, what can you do''" "Can do what I am bid," was the answer, which secured him a place. Senator Wilson, of Massa¬ chusetts, was a shoemaker; Thurlo'iV AVeed. a canal-boat driver; ex-Governor Stone of Iowa, a cabinet-maker, which trade the Hon. Stephen A. Douglass also worked at in his youth. Large n'jmbers of men of prominence now living have risen from humblo life by dint of industry, without which talent is as gold coia on a barren island. Work alone makes men bright, and it does not alone depend on the kind of work you have whether you arise or not; it depends on how you do it.
theso eminent gentlemen the objects of the coufercneo and the now danger that threa¬ tened thc Union cause. I told thom that they must ut once go to Europe, to labor unofficially with the government and ru¬ ling classes in England and on the Conti¬ nent, to represent the wickedness, danger, aud folly of foreign interference. In loss than a -week they were on their journey, reached Europe at   a most opportune mo¬
lt is a ]irevailing custom with young ladies in country towns, to promenade the streets in tho evenings, especially past the hotels, aud signify to the uew comers by looks and gestures that their acquaintance can be made if desired.' Drummers from our|wholcsale houses, lightning -.-od men, venders of p.atents, showmen, and so froth, aro so accustometl to tho.-e things, that they are not in ono of theso towns or cities over night until t'ney have a -duck" in tow, and that duck perhaps the daughter of somo respectable citizen, who knows little of the danger his daughter is in. What is the result ? In seven cases out of fen the fly is caught in thc unmerciful spider's web—the girl is ruined; and, in endeavoring to sereon her parents from the shame the knowledge of her fall would bring upon them, she finds her way to this or some other city, and into some of the gilded palaces of sin, where good-looking eountry girls are at a premium, and where, under an assumed name, she is dead to licr parents, as she soon becomes to shame and and al! the finer feelings of her woman nature. It is a well-known fact that it is n-,:-t our city girls who people bagnios, but girls fro'Ui country towns, wlios-e first/umx 2ms was street, or theatre flirtations willi strangers, and listouiug to their  honej'ed j seven thous.ind dollars."
words and grand promises.    !jet girls be-•  ^>__«»...,^_
ware of itinerants; those follows, who go j Homeiv Girl
into   stereotyped   rhapsodies    over their ' 	
beanty and accomplishments, and svire.ar ' thoy aro fit to adorn a mansion inthe city; who travel on their cards, and dine, when at liome, witii Jay Cooke. Drcxel, &c., v/ho, accordi.ig to their own words, arc the goldeu apples of society at home and would rather die than do a dishonorable act. Beware ofsuch, ive repeat, girls, and if you would save your good n-imc, your peace of mind, tlie happiness of those who gave you life, and command the respect that evcry woman has within licr reach, treat every stranger you meet in an irreg¬ ular way as a Ro^tc, a Libertine. Gentle¬ men do not seek to form thc acquaintance of ladies except in a legitimate manner, depend upon it.—Exchange.
arc capable of Hitherto we have conduct- j ^^ J'^j^ ^'«'» ^"'' lieart-ea.^e don't look to cd the warliumanely, in accordance with the ; """"i-So'u-
Upwards of Sl ,000,000 Is the average annual sum paid in Gretit Britain for arti¬ ficial flowers.
A Hartford paper asserts that every Bostonian who dies with a hight forehead expects a statue.
A punster challenged a sick man's vote at the city election, on tho ground thathe was an ill-legal voter.
codes that govern themost Christian States Interference on your part will be the sig¬ nal for a war of conquest and destruction. We will Iree the negroes ; we will put arms in their hands, .and seud them forth to ravage and plunder. We will make tho South a waste and a desolation. Raise a hand against us. and horrors worse thau those of San Domingo will be seen from one.jud ofthe South 1.0 thc other.
.,r,it    1.. .   1    i.1.   i:   ..   i      ¦     A woman in Birmingham. England, was
-'.the letter was   sont   by tho first stoa-   , . 1   /¦     i o.->nA c        ¦  • 11
m, ,       T.I-      I.   1   *   I lately fined §200 for giving a good char¬
mer,    lhe   t-amc day   i   telegraphed   to,-^,.      ,, .°      ¦-'o
tm     1      II-   J     lliu      T?    . J   actcr to a bad servant.
Thurlow weed.  Archbishop Hughes, and 1        j •     ¦    n
Bishop Simp.son fo meet me at the Astor | Advice is like snow, the softer it falls House the morning following. Thatcven- *'^'^. bongs'" '^ dwells ui.on and the deeper irjg I left for New'Y'"ork, and exglaincd to   "^ ^'"''^ '"'"^ '^"^ "'^"''t.
Cheerfulness is not a proof that the mind is at ease, fbr often -'in the midst of laughter the heart is sad."
To love and to labor is the sum of liv¬ ing, and yet how many think they lire who neither labor nor lovo. • Faith, is to walk through thc darkest clouds, though there be no silver lining to show that day is breaking.
,-,.    -        1 Of! 11 r'l   •    .. \.      .     ^Ve may see, if we do  bat  look,  the mem—1 Mason   and Slidell had just been     ,   .,,     (.,.,.  „ .      . 1 j.    •   .1    .-
.    ,   St    1    J ¦ 1 •.   1    .   c  shuttle 01 Ille uymg to and fro in the tin-
soizea—England was   in a   white heat of !   .   , i   c T ¦       x n-
-,        ^^t¦^ . , 1 •    •     I most morsel ot living stuff,
rage]—and did   much toward convincing i      „,       , ,
Europe that the proper thing and the only j .   -'•'"¦   ''""'^'^  '"'^gs ™<^'^'' difficult are, to
thing to do was to   leave   us alono.    And the mission co.st the government less than
secret, to forgot tin injury and to
ood use of leisure.
The Way to Succeed.
Fortune, success, position aro never gained but by piously, determinedly, brave¬ ly striking, growing, living to a thing. In short, you must carry a thing through if you want to be anybody or anything, no matter if it does cost you the pleasure, th
tions of lifo. No matter for these. Stick to the thing, and carry it through. Believe you were mado for the matter, and that no one else can do it. Put forth your whole energies. Be awake, electrify yourself and go forth to your task. Only onco learu tu earry through a thing in all its com¬ pleteness and proportion, and yira will be¬ come a hero. You will think better of yourself and other." will think better of you.
school   teachers, and papers interested in   admired aud caressed, but thoy are not al- the moral progress  of society, they are at   ways tho incst esteemed and loved.
themselves out to produce an agreeable impression,- aad in most instances succeed. They don't aspire to cajiture paragons with p-i-ieely fortunes, but are willing to take ""y''"".T respectable and love-worthy that society and the thousand yearly gratifiea- Providence may throw in their way. The -- -- «     . ~ . .    rock ahead of our haughty   Junes and cii-
i|uetish Hebes is fastidiousness, 'li'hoy re¬ ject and reject until nobody cares to woo them. Men dou't like to be snubbed or to be trifled with—a lesson that thousands of jiretty women learn too lute.
3ii-s. Hannah Moore, a vepy excellent aud pious person, who knew whereof she wrote, recommends every unmarried sister to accept the offer ofthe first good, sensible lover who falls in her way. But ladies whojc mirror, aided by the clamor of vanity, iissures them that thoy were born for conquest, pay no heed to such tidvicc. It is a note-worthy fact that ho-.aely girls generally get better husbands than fall to the lot of their beaatiful sisti-r.-^. ."^leu who are caught merely by a pretty face and figure do not, as a rnle, amount to much. The practieal, useful, thoughtful portion of mankind is wisely content with unpretending excellency.
-How did that homely girl ever con¬ trive to get married ?" is not unfrequently remarked of some domestic creature whom her husband regards tis the apple of his eye, aud in whose plain face ho sees some¬ thing better than beauty. Pretty girls who arc vaiu of their charms are rather prone to make observations of this kind ; and conscious of the fact that flowers of loveliness ai'e often left to pine on the stem, while weeds of homeliness go off re.adily, is no doubt in mauy cases at the bottom of the sneering question. The truth is, t'nat most men prefer homeliness aud amiability to beauty and caprice.
Handsome women are apt to   overvalue themselves and in waiting for an immense bid occasionally overstep the market. Their plain   sisters, on   thecontrary,   aware ofi their personal   defltiencies,   J^euerally lay j fQ^-;i;;"--;;;p^;";'P ;;j:;;i';^ng'':r-'while
Thc keep : make [
A great deal of what is called hypocrisy arises from the delicacy ono has in offend- • ing the feelings of another.
Whenever you buy or sell, let or hire, make a clear bargain, and never trust tu "We shan't disagree about ti^flcs."
A California widow, just before com¬ mitting suicide wrote to a friend that "it nearly killed hei to leave her children.''
The last sensation in Chicago is a trunk which can be converted into a bath-tubor coffin. The last peculiarity renders it very appropriate for railroad travel.
An Indiana paterfamilias, whose spouse haa filled his quiver with twelve sons and fifteen daughters, wishes to know if that isn't sufficient cause for a divorce.
A lady iu Fort Wayne has cards out fbr her silver, crystal and tin weddings, which occur on the same day. Her first two hus¬ bands (divorced) have received invitations but perversely decline attending.
The mass meeting called at Dover, Del
Multitudes in their haste to get rich ruined every year. The men who do things uiati'.reiy, slowly, deliberately, are the men who oftenest succeed in life. People who are habitually in a hurry gen- evallv have to do things twice over.
The  most beautiful may be  the  most
mans party" resulted lust week in the harmonious assemblage i>i one individual, who, after passing several resolutions, ad¬ journed himself sine tli,:.
(Jollin.svil!e, Conn., has a cat without* tail, but who has seven toes upon each foot, and when engaged in battle he can throw a stream of red fire and noise out of his month that sweeps the othor cats off from thc roof like a simoon.
Monticello, the estate of Thomas Jefler- son, subsequently owned by Commodore Levy, and by the hiUcr bequeathed in trust for a farm school for the orphan sons of warrant offioers in the navy, is now in liti¬ gation .at Richmond, betv.-een the State of Virginia as trustee and the heirs of Com¬ modore Levy.
Thc clork of :i San Francisco lawyer guarded against the possibility of forget¬ ting the secret of tho combin.ation by wri¬ ting it up-Jin a piece of paper and pasting it upon the knob of the safe. He found it hard to dodge the well-bound law-books that -ivore thrown at his head when the Lawyer discovered it, and is now seeking a desk in another office.
Education, and  the Science and Art oF Teaching.--No. 4.
KLOCUTlOX—CONTINUEli.
It is well known tlmt there is a wide difference of opinion, among elocutionists, as lo the extent speakers and readers shoidd be governed by fixed and special rules.— Some hold that, in the delivery of every sentence, the application of emphaies, pause, pitch, inflection, etc., should be regulated by fixed rules. Iu acisordanee witli this theory they have formed, for the guidance of pupils, complex and elaborate systems of elocutionary i-ules. Others, on the other hand, regard all specific rules for the management of the voice in speaking and reading, as not only useless, but posi¬ tively injurious. They advocate what we call the natural. To pay uo attention to thc voice, but -studiously to witlidraic the thoughts from it I think that the true course lies midway between these extremes. Because somc elocutionists fall into thc error of attempting to carry their princi¬ ples too far, and perplex the student with endless lists of rules, it do.ea not follow that all rules should be disregarded. The best exampleliof the middle course is Prof JIark Bailey's os.^ay introductory to Hil- lard's Sixth Reader, and I would recom¬ mend it to sohool teachers before any other work on elocution with which I am ac¬ quainted ; wliile f'or a manual of lung gym¬ nastics, aud vocal drill aud discipline, I would recommend thi' work.~ ..f Murdock tmd Monrae.
In teaching declamation the piece should be accurately committed to memory, with¬ out thc variation of a syllable, so that in delivery no effort will 'do required to recall it. The pupil must have time to practice by himself, and as oue author expresses it, "It mnst be impressed upon his mind that he Uiixei,practice,^jractiec, jiracticc" He must be mado to understand that the re¬ petition of a piece three or four times is no adequate preparation, and that he must go over with it twenty, thirty, or ffty times, if he would excel. In learning ta dance a pupil must pay attention to thc motions of his limbs; but when practice has made the movements familiar, his mind is withdrawn from them. They then be¬ come natural. So with t't^e student of elocution. In his disciplinary exercises A-; must attenti tn his voice. But when he comes to practical delivery, he should withdraw his mind from tho manner of ut¬ terance, and concentrate it intensely upon the matter—the thoughts and feelings to be expressed. .Vbove all, let it be remem¬ bered that the ]>erfection of declamation consists in delivering the piece as though it were real speaking, the speaker putting himself in im.agination so completely into the situation of llim lie person.atcs, as to express himself exactly as such a pei-son would have done in the supposed situation. But my purpose is not to elaborate a system of elocution for the use of teachers (any teacher will find all the directions he needs in the numerous works now publish¬ ed), it ii merely to draw their attention to thc sad, I could almost xay criminal, neg¬ lect ofthis important branch of education, that by giving to it and School Gymnas¬ tics, their proper place in our educational scheme, we may make provision for the acquiring of that moral and intellectual power, and that expressive forco, which roiult from thc blending of a high-toned physical and nieutal training.     .J.A.S0N.
. Use your own brains, rather than tliose of others.
No man can  get   rich   who lounges iu Etores and saloons.
N0.6.
Waiting for Me.
When niystcriCii whispers arc Iloating around.
And voices that will not be still Shall summon us hence from the slippery shore,
To the waves that are silent and still; When I look with cbaaged eyes at  tbe  home of the blest.
Far out ofthe reach ofthe sea. Will any one stand at the beautiful gaie.
Waiting and watching far me'.'
There are dear ones at home 1 may bless wilh my love, There are wretched ones passing tho street; There  are  friendless  and suffering strangers around. There are tempted acd poor I must meet; There are many unihoiight of whom, happy and blest. In the land of tbo good I shall see : Will any of these, at the beautiful gate. Jle waiting and watching for me '.'
There are the old and forsaken, who linger a while
In the homes which their dearest havo left, .\nd an action of love or a few gentle words
.Might cheer the sad spirit bereft; But the Reaper is near  ;..i  the  long-.slandin!f corn,
The weary shall soon be set free; Will any of these, at the beautiful gate.
Bs waiting and watching for me ?
Thore are little ones glancing about on ray path .
Ia ueed of a friend and a guide ; There are dim little eyes looking up iuto mine.
Whose tears could be easily dried ; But Jesus may beckon the children away,
in the midst of their grief or their glee; Will any of these, at the beautiful gate.
Be waiting or watching for me ?
I may bo brought there by tho manifold grace
Of the Saviour who loves to forgive ; Though I bless aot the hungry oae near to my side,
Oaly pray for uiysolf while I live. But I think   I should mourn  o'er my  selliih neglect—
If soiTow in Heaven can oc— Ifno ono should stand at the beautiful gate,
"Waiting and watching for mc.
"I am Going to be Damned, I Know It."
Let mc tci! you a story—a true story— one you never c.iuld forgot if you learned it as he learned it v.-ho now sits down to tell it. The subject of it has been dead now for some timo, and I suppose his body has long ago changed into dust. A won¬ derful body it was that God had given him. Like Saul, he wouldstandhe.ad and should¬ ers above most of his fellows. He was a strong man, with bro.'id chest, brawny arms
aud sinewy muscles.    Ho lived on A	
street, in the city of I'ittsburgh, and was by trade a blacksmith. I saw him first in bis own house, and was introduced to him by his wife as the minister from a neigh¬ boring church. It was but a little body beside him, but having heard incidentallv that he never wont to church, I wished to talk with him about his soul. At sight of the man, for whom I had inquired, my heart trembled within me and I hesit-atetl. but the grace of God w.is sufficient, and I began as kindly as I could to converse wifh him. The following was in substance the conversation :
"I never saw you at our church; would be plea,sed to h.avo you come up some day.''
''No! I don't go to church any place ; it is all a piece of nonsense." Aud with¬ out giving me an opportunity to .say any¬ thing, he continued in this .strain for sonii- time, scoffing at chnrches and church go¬ ers. Seeing that there was no use in pu- tering upon au argument with him, I let him talk on until he seemed to himself t.i have completely exhausted the subject and to h.ave stopped my mouth. Then telling Lim I had a question to ask him, and ho¬ ping that if he thought it was a fair one he would answer it, I caught his eye, and looking him full in the face, simply said :
'•Air. B , what are you going to  do
for the s.aIvation of your soul ? Ts your peace made with (xod 'I"
The boTV was drawn at a venture, but the arrow went straight to his heart. He dropped his eyes, was silent a moment, then rallying, said :
"Oh, my soul is all right; it is safe.— Goil is merciful; he will take care of me." and followed this up with language of sim¬ ilar import. 3Ierely reminding him that God was just as well as merciful, I again asked :
"3Ir. B , what are you going to  do
for the salvation of your soul ? Is your peace made with God ?"
Once more the arrow hit him. but he rallied and said :
"You needn't talk tn me abont my soul. I know all about these things. I was a member of a church fifteen years ago, and you can't tell mc auything about God that I don't know."
"Very well, sir, but you have not an¬ swered iny question yet; what are you go¬ ing to do lor the salvation of your soul ? Is your peaco mado with Gad"'"
ilis eyes filled with tears. The strong man bowed himself atid wept, and in a few minutes, with a trembling voice, confessed that he was in the wrong.    Said he :
•'There is no use in tiying to brave it out auy longer. I have been a very wicked man. I know my peace is not made with God. Won't you pray for mc'! I kneeled down beside him and pr.ayed for him, and rising up preached Christ. Vv'heu I wa» leaving he told lac ho would be at church thc next Sabbath, and requested mc to hold a prayer-meeting at his house on the first moonlight evening. Sabbath came, but he was not at church. He sent a mes¬ sage, saying that he had hurt his foot and could not come, but that he would be there on the following Sabbath. The second Sabbath came, but ho w.-»s not at church. A message came saying that he was dying. It startled me ! -\fter service, in compa¬ ny with an elder, 1 went to his hou?e, but he was wandering in his mind, and remain¬ ed in this condition several days. One diiy, as 1 stood by his bedside, he turned to¬ wards me, and seemed to recognize me. ! asked him if he knew me.
-'Oh, yes," said he, -'you are Mr.	
the minister.''
'-Are you prepared to die ''' -'No, 1 am not!"
I urged him lo preparation, luu liis only response was :
•-It is too late ; I have been .i wicked man; I ought t-.i have attended lo these things long ago."
I held up I'hrist as w-cll  as   1 couhl be¬ fore the dying man, but his reply was: ''It is too late; there is no hope fiir mo." I pr.ayed for him, and rising from  my knees besought him to look to Christ, but alas! it was too late.    Never, while mem¬ ory performs it.=) accustomed duty, can 1 forget the terrible look of despair, and the agony ofhis eountenance, as with clench¬ ed teeth he gave utterance to these words: ••It is too late ! it is ioo late.' I am going to hell! Iiimgoitig to  b- damned,   itnil I kiimc it.'"
He died with these words upon his lips. Reader, make your peace with Go<l NOW.— Un ited Presbyterian.
Love those who hate you.