North Carolina Newspapers

VOLUME VI. • DIVORCE. A fiuled row from a long dead June B!iut in the page of a hidden book— I remcti!lx»r so Mint afternoon The smiles and curves that her red lips took. Here it is, marked iu a girlish hand. Year and ini.fals, aye, date as we I. What hopes we built upoa the saiui What tales a poor dead rose can tell. 1 1 Odoroib* days of laho .-•! lore ♦ Hopes that we reckoned ages ai^\ Vows that we pledged no» h'»ng» should move, Dead JS*a fruit ye have yielded me so. I»nt k it stirs old fir«M to find a^ain MI GHOSTS of what onoe was true, "Wren A rusted link of a chain, ' Even a rose ouee wet with dew. !'• ..me/ Ah, yes—we were hasty and young. L'oth were untested, and both did wrong, J 1 -id a temper and she had a tongue ; We sold our love for !ess than a son?. ! hen enme the blackest of days to me ; We were deserted, my home and 1. May be—fJod knows—it was all to bo ; Love could not be saved—too late to try. Divorced? Yes, Tom, it was better so; It might make her happier, after all. S* loved me no longer, and thus I knov 'T» wiser than keeping still in thrall. I • i once, when it all was done : L'» •• v ! was do#u, but hei face waa white, ' I'v. r.'.f, the face of the girl o:ii* won • t! still, sweet garden that June night. Ami 'lien, iu a little less than a year— But you know, I think, the ship went down, I read the tidings without a tear. My hair next morrow was white not brown 1 know that the end was best and still I think of the time we first were wed. I' wiii coinu all right, I know it will. In tie day the sea gives up its dead. Javed by Accident. A Detective'* Story. "Laugley, I've got a job for you; one that must be attended to immediately. Aro you ready to travel ?" This was the salutation I rocoivcd from my chief one afternoon, as I entered "~tr&6TpriTun3 nftiv a iuacJ-Arr*. w 1 - - "At a moment's notice," I replied— "or at least as soon as I can put on a disguise, should that be necessary" "(Jood !" said tho chief, "for that is about all the time 1 ainatilc to give you. 1 have just received information that Sam Wolfe is in this town, and that he is to leave to-day by tho C and £ R. R. I think wc have now an opportunity of tracking him to hia head quarters, and I want you to do the job.' "1 should like nothing butter." "Very well ; then start at once for the depot. I don't know what train he is going on : but you can wait until you ■ee him. You are sure you eannot mistake him t" "1 should know him in any disguise," I replied, as 1 left the room. Sam Wolfe, or "Slippery Sam," at he was generally called, was, at the time of which I write, one of the most danger ous counterfeiters in the country, and tho chief of a largo gang. Wo had for a long time been in search of his head quarters, but without success. Wo very •eldom had a chance to 'shadow' one of the gang, and when we did they managed to put us off tho traok beforo wo had traetd them to their lair. It would be a "big thing" for me ; f I unearthed their den; and I felt that the chief had j paid me a high compliment in selecting me, and inc alone, to do t(ie job. I has tened to my lodging*! aud quickly bnt carefully "made myself up" as a well to-do farmer. "My reputation is at ■take !" I muttered to myself, as 1 strodo along toward the depot, "and, by Jove, I'm bound not to lose i». !" I thougbt.it very probable that 1 should have a long wait for my man, but in thia I was agroeably disappointed, for, on arriving at the depot, almost the first man I beheld was slippery Sam. lie had just entered, and was making his way toward the ticket office. I followed him, and saw that he bought a ticket for Watkin's Junction, a small village about thirty miles out. I purchased a ticket for the same place, and followed Wolfe into the oar, just as the train started. Throughout the journey I kept him in sight. lie glanoed at me several times, but showed no signs of recogni tion, and I was confident that my dis guise was perfect. Slippery Sam and I had met more thus once in the oourse of my professional career, so I had b«cn more than usually oareful in my "make up," and was certain that it was effec tive. In something less than twe hours the train reached Watkin's Junction, and several passengers alighted, among them Sam Wolfo and myself. The counterfeiter started up the main road, and I stepped up to the depots master and asked : "Can you tell me who that man is 1" pointing to Wolfe. "I den't know his name," was the re ply, "but his face is familiar enough. lie stops at Rorke's place." "And where and what is Rorke's place 1" I asked. "You are a stranger in these parts or you wouldn't ask that," said the depot master. "Rorke's place is a little pub lic bouse about a mile up tbo road, kept by one Jim Rorke—though how he man ages to keep it going I don't know, for everybody im these pnrt« cleai e[ it—they know him too well." "His reputation is not good, eh 1" I asked. "He's a rascal," said tho depot mas ter , "that's what he is," Having ascertained tlm exact location of tlie public house in questini, I started up the road, determined to make sure that 1 had really found the counterfeit ers' headquarters. It was eight o'clock and very dark when 1 paused in front of a miserable looking hovel, over the door of which was written the name of James llorke. From the inside I heard sounds of revelry, and glancing into the half open window 1 saw four men standing ' before a bar drinking. Sam Wolfe was not among them, but I doubted net that I had discovered the headquarters of his gang. Now nothing remained to do but te procure assistance and make a descent on the place; aud I was about turuing away with the iutention of doing this, when i was seised froui behind, throwu to the ground and in a twinkling bound hand and foot. "Aha !" cried tfie voice of Sam Wolfe. "You will follow me from the city, eh, you cursed spy ! Fooldid you think 1 didn't know you from the first !" lie lifted me in his arms and bore me into the room. "Here's the spy, boys," he cried ; "let's take him down stairs and decide what to do with him. An ordinary death will not (fc for a" d—d poliue spy ; and 1 have an idea to suggest on this point.' » J lupp. yindin^i hallway and down a flight of steps "Strike a light," ordered Wolfo. His command was obeyed, and a mo ment later I saw I was in the cellar of the building and in the counterfeiter's don. Apparatus for the manufacture of spurious money surrounded me on every aid*. "Now, men," said Wolfe, addressing his fuur companions, "nothing remains but to settle the mode of his death ; and as I suppose none of you will object to Utting me have my own way in this mat [ ter, I now decide that he shall be tied to the railroad track and left to the mer cies of tho express which passes in about half an hour." My blood tan cold as these words fell upon my par, but 1 remained silent.— Tho men were very warm in their expres sions of approval of their captain's fiend ish plan. "Well, boys, I'm glad you like the idea," said Wolfo ; "but let us waste no more time. It is several minute's walk to the track ; to off with him." Two of the men lifted mo on thoir shoulders, and bore inc up the stairs, out of the house, and along the lonely road, Sam Wolfe following. Presently they paused. "Here we are," said one of tho men. "Now, then, cap, nothing remains but to tie him down." "Gag him, first," directed Wolfe. He was obeyed, and then I was fat tened securely to tho track. "Ha !" exclaimed Wolfe, "I hew the whistle of the train. It is loss than two miles off. Now, cursed spy, Bay your prayers, for your timo is short! Boys, you may return to the house. 1 will wait and see that the job it effectually done." "All right, cap," and the men de parted. Nearer and nearer came the train, the shrill whistlo sounded in my ears, tho terrible rumble grew ltuder aud louder, till it seunded like thuuder. "11a—ha !" laughed Wolfe in fiend ish glee, "in half a minute more you will be safe in kingdom come !" Tho noise of the train became deafen ing and the headlight flashed along the track. The engine was almost upon me. I closed my eyes aud waited for the end. Suddenly came a s-icoession of short, shrill whistles. I knew they meant "down brakes." The speed of tho train began to tlacken. A wild hope sprang up in my breast. Slower and slower camo the train. Would it stop in time ? "Curses on the luck!" exclaimed Wolfe. "It will not do to leave you here!" I)ANBURY, N. C., THURSDAY, MAY 25, 1882. He began untying the knits which bound tue. Hut he had scarcely coin raenced when the train passed within Bix feet of the spot where I lay. It was too late for Wolfe to remove mo. "Y«u shall not have a chance to give me away !" hissed the villain, betweeu his teeth, as he drew a knife and raised it in the air preparatory to striking the fatal blow. At that instant n man leap ed from the ungine. "Ha! what is this!" he exclaimed, rushing toward us. With an oath Wolfe dropped his knife and fled. Bnt the stranger pur sued and in a few minute* captured him and led him.back. In the meantime 1 had been released by some of the em ployes of the road. In as few words as possible I gave an account of my ad ventures to tho group of passengers which assembled around me, a number of whom at onco volunteered to assist me in making a descent upon the coun terfeiters' dan. I gladly accepted the offer ; and in less than fifteen minute* the bouse and its contents were in my possession. It was the most com plete and best appointed place of the kind I ever saw. We took five prison ers beside Wolfe, and succeeded in con veying them all safely to the city early tho next morning. Tliey were soon tried and sentenced, and are now serving out their terms at Sing Sin,", In closing 1 will stale that tho train stopped ou account of a slight defect in the engine which it was necessary to re pair before it could go further. Had this iittlo fault been discovered one short minute later, I shon i iiv. !■ a He,id num. So I was reulU • Jl v ate; ieut. Tbe l ive jMleDpluiusmh There were fivo of them together, and it was late. They had been drinking. Finally one of tlieui looked at the clock and said: "What will our wives say when wa come home!" "Let them say what they want to. Mine will tell we to go to the mischief," responded No. '2. us meet here again In Uie moAlngTsHu tell our experiences. Let the one who lias refused to do what his wile told him to do when he got home, pay for this evening's entertainment." "That's a good idea. We will agreo to that." So the party broke up, and went to their respective homes. Next morning they met at the appoint ed place and began to tell their experi ences. Said So 1. "When I opened the door my wife was awako. She said : 'A pretty time of night for you to be coming home. You hud better go out and sleep in the pig pen, for that's what you will come to sooner or later, anyhow.' Rather than pay for all wo had drank last night, I did what she told me to. That lets me out." Next! No. 2 cleared his throat and said : "When I home, I stumbled on a chair aud uiy wife called : 'There you are again, you drunken brute! You had bettor wake up the children, and stagger about for awhile so they can see what a drunken brute of a father they are afflicted with.' I thought the best thing 1 could do under the circumstances was to obey: so I woke up the children and Btaggcred around until my wife hint ed to me to stop. She used a ohair in conveying the hint. That lets me out." Next! No. 8 spoke up and said : "1 happened to stumblt over tho pail ef dough, and my wife said : 'i>ruuk again! lladn't you better sit down iu that dough l ' P ' «at down in it, aud that lets me out." Next! No. 4 said : "I was humming a tunc and my wife called out: 'There you are agaiu l Hadn't you Letter gi»c us a concert?' 1 said 'certahilj' and began to sing as ! nd as I oculd,but she told lue to stop, or she would throw something at me ; so I stopped. That lots me out." Next! No. 5 looked very disconsolate. lie said : "I reckon I'll have to pay. My wife told me to do something none of you would have done, if you had been in my place." "What was it!" "She said : 'So you thought yon would come home at last! Now, hadn't you better go out to the well and drink a eouple ef buckets of water just to aston ish your stomach >' That was more than I had bargained for, so it's my fu neral. AimleNN People. There are many people who commence to do a .thing in great haste, hardly pause to consider for what port they arc bound. They arc full of arrfor and enthusiasm, brimming over with hope and energy and ! have a vital force and ability capable of producing grand results; yet they fail in effecting anything that is of real and permanent value from the want of a well defined life purpose. They wituess the j exciting scenes of a busy life, and rush ! thoughtlessly into them, never stopping i te consider what is best to bo done nor j to form a clear idea of what they "expect | to ftctomplisli T'.iey Mom to :er' ! drift the n.ei • y r' circums'.anees liko a ship without a rudder. Many of , the crimes and much of the sufferings in j this world may be traced to lirjs that j i begun and continued !o aiitil">sly float, hither and thither f> r the want of a well- ! 1 defined purpose. The energy that would ! have accomplished s did good and diffused | happiness all around Ihcui, if but direct | ed to some special and honorable pursuit i was lost to mankind because that energy i was turned into impure channels, thus poisoning tiie whole life an I character, i Vital otiur;ry must always tind vent in i evil if not guided into ] iths of worthy exertion. It wi!! som ma': l nn avenue for itself that will lead to ruin. The waste of time and talent by people who arc aimless in their habits, is, indeed, lDcaleuublc. There arc soma who are 1 always in a hurry : always overcrowded with their work, and never seem to have any leisure, and yet they mostly fail to | accomplish anything of moment, because ! they exhibit no system or design in their ■ efforts; they fly from one thing to | another in a loose and desultory way, and so effect comparatively nothing. I The amount of power thus wasted on ! unfinished work would, if judiciously I directed, under well-laid plans product) | valuable results. Such parsons may bo | fond of their work, and resolute in will j j they may be faithful in tha performance ! of their duties, but they fail for the want jof discrimination and judgment: they do not sec that certain obstacles are in t tliejr alii must 1)0 eiean d au-uv lfc l fort tliay can perforin tnmr la!*'"" to li.Vhl | vantage. They fail not observe favora ! ble opportunities, and so tliry pass b\ j unnoticed and unimproved. Th. y als" j fai! to detect the many impediments tha; j embarrass their business. \\ ben the | errors arc at length discovered, they I bring bitter disappointments which seem not altogether undeserved. Iu all our i aims and pursuits wc find much to dis i tract our atioution, am! prevent us from i accomplishing all wo wish, and unless wc I are armed with an earnest and steadfast j purpose that can conquor difficulties and I resist pernicious allurements while we j bend circumstances to our will, we J cannot expect to meet with marked suc | cess in any of our various avocatious. Our Young Men, North Carolina had 11)0,000 troops in the "late unpleasautness." Prior to 1801 she had but 112,500 white voters. Thus we sec lLat 37,500 of the youth of this state, ere they reached their major ity, entered that bitter struggle and manfully fought for the cause their fath ers espoused ; and lbs quality of their valor is attested by such men as Lee, Jackson, Hampton, the Hilis, Lane. | | Hood and other generals not natives of | this State. One may search the annals of civil ized warfare from the earliest period in its history, and will fail to find a paral lel to this remarkable statement 1 Ought not our young mcu of this gen eration feel imbued with a similar lovty and patriotism for their old motberotate, and sli'jk to her in preference to going*' among strangers'! Because some, by ! pure strength of will and intellect audi . the extraordinary play of circumstances, I have made names for themselves in the ! great outer world, it does not follow that |a 11 who leave North Carolina will bet ter their condition. And we verily bc i lieve that if the whole truth was laid , open to the publio eye, we would view a i scene frought with disappointments, suf fering and even death, to the greater portion of those wbo, not content to "let i well enough alone," have left thefr friends and tho s*eet associations, of , their earlier'years to begin life" anew In i sections often uncongenenial with &eir ' health, habits and dispositions. It is the success of life tliat we hear most of. The misfortunes uie little ' mentioned. ' We see it meutioued that in Pit lay l» vauia county, Ya., theie have been luif» . ty-one murders and but ouc liai.j,ii.g. 1 That cxplaihs tbe matter. The Editorial ''Be," ThfTJn City Derrick gives the above subjejt a h'ist as follows: Some people areg reasonably inquisitive and curious, sbout matters that do not con cfWtf'Mii in the least. For example, here w » correspondent who makes the startli w revelation that he is a "constant reader of our valuable and influential paper," and would I:i.e to : Informed i why it i.«, an editor ■ r newspaper writer, ! when Speaking of himself iu his wntiugs, invariably uses the plural pronoun "we" | instead of the singular "I." I J* J "" j£j is the first law of nalu It ; bo(.J*V at home, like old Mother Charity. There is some human nature about an editor, public opinion to the contrary j notwithstanding. An editor thinks too , ui|iaji of his «I's,' to wear them in mouru | i ig. and therefore when speaking of some j slab liitled six-footer as a miscrah! 'cd nosto,pusillanimous, wife-beating;iooi er, lie considers it the better part of 7alor to drop in an occasional "we " Tb:s creates iu the mind of the six-footer the impression that the editorial force con;i~ts of a standing army, armed with deadly "we"-apona. 1 iu thermore, in casjs where the vic | tiiu comes arouLd to the office to kill the writer of any particular item, it is so pleasan* to have the guilty man's identity buried in the obscurity of the plural "we." The editor-iu-chief, the commercial edi tor, thereperte , tho bookkeepers, coui po itors, book-binders, jobbers, press men, devil and all the delivery boys are thus placed on a common footing by the little pronoun "we," and when the en raged person looks about him and finds bow many hemes he would muke deso late, how many wives ho would make widows and how many children orphans, by killing off all included in the little "we" a> ono fell swoop, he sickens of the sanguinary undertaking, turns sadly away, goes to some bar-room, takes a drink, condemn* tho paper, prophesies that it ,1s being run into the ground, and declares that he will henceforth use his political iuflueuce to squelch the sheet. are other reasons. When no -liVl.fi that at least a box of cigars will bu re ■ quired to go around. An editor says "we" when advising thu President bow to conduct his admin istration, because the President might n t act upon his suggestion if it was written plain "1." When telling the minister how to pi each the editor uses "we" to induce the belief that he has'just had a confer ence with all the ex-ministers about the | establishment. | The editor who tells the teacher how ! to teach says "we" because he has con i suited with his wife abnut the matter, l a|ul sue, having been a teacher a few | years before, of course knows all about 1 j "We" is sometimes used because of ! tlio writer's modesty. Most writer* art Uonbled in this respect. In short we use "we" because no man oould survive the trials, tribulations and taffy found about a print shop. Silence. To say the right thing in the right place is generally easy to leave unsaid —the wrong thing at the tempting mo ment is the difficulty. Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves, and the strongest feelings are generally those that remain nuspok eu. People who know much speak little, and men who most stir the lives of oth ers, lead the most silent and tranquil They feel society to be oppress ' ivc, because it iB hindrance to the ex , eroise of reflection. Corneille, De scartes, Addison, Virgil, Dry den. Goldsmith, and many others, eminent in walks of litirature and science, were silsnt and even stupid in company : and, strange to say, their silence was some times appreciated. The Conntes*. of Pembroke assured Chaucer that his .sil ence was more agreeable to her than his conversation ; and an observer of La- Fontaine said of him that it was easy to be either a man of wit or a fool, but to be both, and that in the same extreme degree, was admirable, and only to be , found in him. The saying of Talley rand that language was invented for the purpose of concealing thought, savor* of the wily diplomatist. It is no small accomplishment to talk and yet not tell ; | but silence on a forbidden topic is the safett course. • This judicious reticence is a valuable quality in a professional man, and is, to a considerable extent, a result of the practice which demands tact, selfcommaud, and patient atten tion to and comprebcusion of a rambling narrative A Sensible Ciirl. "I'll tell you what," snitl a New York girl the other day, while examining a printed curriculum, and trying to make up her wind what study she would take up next, "I'll tell you what I would liko to study—l would like to study rnedi ciue. 1 don't mean I'd like to be a phy sician and practice, but only to kuow wlnt to do at hoiue if anybody is sick, or any tiling happens. 1 aui sure it would be more useful to mo tliau"—and here she turned to the course of study—"than spherical trigonometry and navigation. W hat is the us* of me studying naviga tion 1 But we cannot run for the doctor every time anv body sneezes or coughs, and 1 would liko to know what to do for any one who is a little sick." This New York girl is sensible, and his made a wise choice. Perhaps she will never be smart enough to work out an intricate problem in algebra, and maybe she will never know the technical names ot all the bones in her body, but if her baby brother, while left in her charge, should burn his hand or be sud denly seized with croupe, she will know what is the best thing to do for him while waiting fj.' the doctor to come. And when she is a wifu and mother she will meet calmly aud intelligently the accidents and illnesses which aro inevit able iu every family. Dave i aOin'H Gronso. Dave Caffm, keeps a boarding-house at Kmigrant Gap, on the Gentral I'aciCe Railroad, lie is very hard of hearing—can hardly hear anything that is not shouted in his ear. Pave is very fond of hunt ing, aud often takes his gun and scouts about the mountains in search of grouse, quail and other game. A Comstockcr, who was snow bound at Cisco for a day or two last week, tolls the following story about Caffiu : lie had been out hunting and was going houie with a grouse he hud killed. As ho came out of the wood aud struck the railroad track ho was overtaken by a stranger, who asked : "How far is it to Cisco V "Yes," said Dave, holding up his 'm,') "1 don't think you understand me," said the stranger; "1 asked you how far it was to Cisco ?" "Yes, ho's pretty fat." said Dave; "he'll make a very good stew." "You uiust be a damned fool," cried the stranger. "Certainly, certainly!" said Dare ; "there's a good many of 'em flyin' about this year !" He was a very small boy with lus treless blue eyes. With a cat-like tread he was making tracks out of the back yard during the last frost, each step as soft as mud. lie had something under his jacket which he held in place with one hand. A window of the house was sud denly thrown up, and a sharp voice shouted, "George"What !" lie had turned around, this juiot stealthy child, and given utterance to the inter rogation with a roar that would have dismayed a boiler explosion. "Come back hero," said the voice. "What for ?" he yelled. "You come back here, if you know when you are well off, young man!" spoko the voice. He re traced his way, not softly like a eat, far from it, and when he got into the shadow »f the house he pulled a pair of skates from under his arm and threw them against; the wall, and tore his cap from his heAthrew it to the ground, and passiou.Jsßly jumped upon it. What do you suppose could have made that quiet little b»j *ct >o ? c i» doctor and a gla»K of bran dyj quick," cried a red-nosed man, slightly overcome by heat and so forth, otPawtuoknt avenue, Sundy afternoon. (Hxi Samaritans started off in answer to'his appeal in every dirc:tion, when they were rounded to by an additional ory, "Don't too many of you go for the doetoi and not enough for the brandy. I guess you had better all go for the brandy first and for the doctor after ward's." They all looked upon the old humbug, who was thus presuming upon the bost impulses of humanity, then left him alone with his thirst under a shady tree. Tommy was a little nfgue, whom his mother had hard work to manage. Their house in tha country was raised a few feet from the ground, and Tommy, to escape a woll deserved whipping, ran from his mother and crept uudor the house. Presently iho father came home, and, hearing where, the boy had taken refuge, crept under to bring him out. | As he approached on his hands and knees, Tommy asked, "Is she after you, too 1" NO. 48 SMALL. KITES. Who invented the steam-engine ? Watts his name. Domestic Magazines.—Wives who blow up their husband*. W hat tree does a man hope to become when he marries ! A fruitful pere (pear. Why is alocomotiTe like a beefsteak ? Because it is good for nothing without its tender. Why is the early gross like a pen-knife 1 Because the spring brings out the blades ' Is there anything in the world that can heat a good wife? Yes, a bad hus band. Why should a man marry a widow ? Because, then, lie can't possibly be miss taken. Why are clergymen like waiters ® Because they both wear white ti#s, and take orders. What do you say when you wish to re quest a doctor of divinity to play the violin ? Fiddle d-d. What does a wife sometimes make a present to her husband? She gives him —a bit of her mind. Why is the cold of a lady, when ask ed to sing, like a certain kind of pipe t Because it is a mere-sham. Some helpless sort of a person in Pittsburg advertises for "one or two steady girls to help on pantaloons." Why is a hungry boy looking at a pud ding like a wild horse ! Because it would be all the better if he had a'bit in his mouth. \\ hen a boy becomes ashamed to sit in his mother's lap, he's probably in busiuess for himself—holding somebody else on his lap. "There now," exclaimed a little girl while rummaging a drawer in the bureau, "grandpa has gone to heaven without his spectacles." "1 declare," said Julia, "you take the words right out of my mouth." ".Nowoudcr ; they aro BO sweet," said (tltajfi Aui i' iLllt.wun.T.l^. Having a home that is all preaching and no pleasure—all duty and no fuu— is a dull old trade mill which will drive tho children away froui home sooner or later. "Pa," asked little Johnnie, "what docs the teacher mean by saying that 1 must liavo inherited my bad temper?" She meant Johnnie that you are your mother's own boy. A little ten year old miss told her mother the other day that she was uev er going to marry, but meant to be a widow, because widows dressed iu such nice black, and always look so happy ! A gentleman advertised for a wife and received answers from eighteen hun dred and ninety-seven husbands, saying he could have theirs. This is given aa an illustration of the value of advertis ing. The man who goe» fishing and sita in a cramp-inviting posture on a narrow plank form early morn till dewy eve, and culls it fun, is the same chap that never goes to church because the pews aro not comfortable. Singular, isn't it, that when a man gives his wife a dime, to buy a box of hairpins or a gum ring for the baby, it looks seven times as big as when he planks it down on the bar for a little gin and bitters for the stomach's sake. A bad tempered man had lost hia knife and they asked him tho usual question : «• Do you kuow where you lost it!" "Yes, yes," ho replied, "of course I do. I'm merely hunting in these other places for it to kill time." "The wisest of all sayings," said some onn one night at the old Fielding Cluto, "is the old Greek maxim, 'Know thv sclf.'" " les," said the late Mr. Charles Lnrnb Kouney, "there's a deal of wisdom in it. Know thyself; but," he added, "never introduce a friend !" "Ougli."—Those who are sometimes troubled to know how to produce tho termination "ough"—so troublesome to foreigners—may see how simple and cusy it is by the following : "Wife, make 1110 some dumplings of dough, They're better than meat for my cough; l'ray let them be boiled till hot through, but not till they're heavy and tough. "Now I must be off to my plough, And the boys (when they've Lid enough) Must keep the flies off with a bough, While tho old mare driulu at the trough."