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Six lines and under, fiist insertion. . . .$00 5" Each subsequent insertion .. . . . . . . . . . . 00 13 { «*on lines and under. first insertion. . .. 00 7’5 if Hath subsequent insertion. . . . . .. . . ... 00 ‘20 Above ten lines. first insertion, per line. 00 07 Each subsequent inscriion, per line. . . . 00 02 Una Coiumn per {waive months. . . ... - 50 00 Huifacolmnn do do 30 00 Qnarier of a coiumn per twelve months. 20 00 One column pei six months” . - . . . . . . 4f) ()0 Halfucolumn do .......,.,. 25 00 Quarter of a column per six months. . . . 18 0” A card of (on lines, for one year. . . . .. 4 00 .A and of fifteen lines. do . . . .. .. 5 ‘25 A card oftwenly lines, do . . . .. . . G 50 i JOHN M. REID, M. D., 803. M YONGE AND CDLBURNE STSu. Consultalinnc in the office on the mornings of 'l‘uesduvs. T'nurvdny-a and Saturdays. 8 to (0, a. m. [E’AH consultations in the oflaiue. Cash. ' Clerk of’the 3rd Division Court, CONVEYANCER, AND SUMMISSEUNEB {N THE QUEEN’S BENCH Olfico opposite R. RAYMOND'S HO’IEL. Richmond Hill. Deeds. Mortgages, &c., drawn up with neat- noss and drsyntch. JVI. TEEEY, 338%., Notary Public, COMMISSIONER m EHEQUEEN’S BENCH, C,()NVEYANCER. AND DIVISION COURT AGENT, Richmond 11:1“, June. 1365 W‘dispatclled to subscribers by the earliest mails. or other conveyance, when so desired. The YORXEI'IERALD will alwa'ys be found to 'conlain thelatest and most important F‘oreigm and l’roviuciaI_News and Markets, and the greatest cam will be taken to render it ac- ooptable to llie man of business, and a valu‘ this Family Newspaper.“ ‘ ' " TERMS :â€"One Dollar and Fifty cents 'per (minim, IN ADVANCE: if not paid within Three Months, Two Dollars will be charged. No paper discontinued until all arrearages are pnid : and panics refusing papers wilhout paying up, will be held accountable for the subscription. Published for the Proprietors by A. Scott. 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Also a Branch Office in the village of Boa-- venon, Township of Thorhh, and County of Ontario, The Division Courts in Ontario, Richmond Eli”, and Markham Village regularly attended Fl’osl Office Addressâ€"Richmond HI” June 1&65. “" , AVID McLEOD bogs to announce that he has Leased the above Hate! and fitted 'itVu'p in a manner second to none on Yonge S. where ha wili keep constanlly on hand a good supply affirm-class Liquors, &c. This house possesses every accommodaliou Travellers can desire,1hose who wish to stay where they can find every comfort are respectfullyiuvited to put up at this establishment, i'Pwsidenceâ€"Neax-ly opposim the Post Oflice, " ‘ Richmond Hill. BEETCEHEL HHOUSE! EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, Aurora, June. 1865‘ June' 1865, THOMAS SEDMAN, Carriage and Waggon MAKER, " 6: c. 5: c. 6: c. June 9, 1885. 'I‘hornhi". June 9, 1865 Richmond Iii”, June 5), 1865‘ Opposite the Elg’m Mi‘xls. Richmond Hi”, June 9,18b‘5 “milky June 2, 1805. flugimm flimth r52. DR. HOSITEHER; RATES OF A DVERTISING. TTORNEY - A'l' - LAW. SOLICJTOR @bc’iflark 35mm RICHMOND HILL POST OFFICE. [LL genm'nHy be fmmd at homg half-past 7 mm and {mm l to 2 CHAS. C. KELLER, LAW' CARDS. 'I'JIURNIHL IS PUBLISHED AURORA. RICHMOND HILL. ...c mouths. . . . yeah... .. lo ....... ‘o 1‘.er re p. m . l-tf l-tf l-tf Deep inlo that darkness peering, Long I stood there wondering, fearing, Douhlang, dreaming dreams no mortals Ever dared to dream bel'nre ; But the silence was unbroken, And the stillness gave no token, , ‘ fl " I ‘ ’ Was he whispered wbrd, ‘7 This I whispered, and an echo Murmurcd buck the word, “Lenore l"7 Merely this and nothing more. Prosenfly my soul grow stronger; llt‘siizuing then no longer, _ “' Sir,” said I, “ or Madam, 111in Your forgivenessl implore; But the facl is 1 was napping, And so faintly you came nipping, Tapping at my chamber door, That I sun-cw was sum 1 11mm] you"â€" Hcre I opened wide the, dour 1â€"- Durkucss 1110': I and nulhiug more. Buck iutu the (thzxmbor turning, All my soul within mo burning, Soon again I heard :1 tapping Somethng louder than before, “Surely,” said J, "smvly that is Somvflnngr at my \\'indmvl:1ttiw : Let me 500/. than, what Hun-mt iS, A1111 this mySIL-r)‘ explore“â€" Let my hour! be still a moment And 111is mysu-ry (‘Xph’n'o ;â€" ’Tis the wind and nothing more \Vroug'ht iAts ghost'uan the floor. Eagerly I wished the marrow 5 V uinly 1 had suught 10 bum-ow From my bl mks surcousc of sorrowâ€"«- Son-ow for the lost, Lenoreâ€" For the rare and radiant maiden Whom the angels named Lenoreâ€"- Nameless how for cv rmox'e. ' And the silken sud uncertain ,limytling of each purple curtain Thrilicd luvâ€"filled me with fantastic Terrors never {on before; So that now, 'to Still 1111‘, healing 01" my hem-l7} sluod repealing, “ “Us sumo Unit '1' cull-mum; Eulruuu: at my cluuubur door- Some late vishor unficulingfir Entl‘unccut my chumbur door; This it is And )io‘lhin " 11mm." , O Once 11 ion a. midnight dreary, Wth i pondered, weak and weary: Over many a. quaint undlcuriOUS Volume of forgotten tort,â€" ‘Vhile I nodded,‘ nearly napping, Suddenly there came a tapplng, As ut‘some one gently rapping, Rapping at my 011anrbcr<hvmu “ ’Tis sumo visitor I muttered, “ Tapping at my chamber doorâ€" Unly this and nothinbr more.” Open here I flungltho shuiim' “'hen, with many :1 HM and flutter, In there stepped a stately Riven 01' [he saintly «lays ot'ym'c. Nut 11):: 7x. ,1 nlwin‘nm-e made he; But with mien 01' lord or lady, Perched above my chamber door-‘- I’Cl‘chml upon v. bust ui' I’ullns Just above my (‘hmnbcr r1001'~â€" Perched7 and sat, and nothing more Then this ebony bird hwmiling My sud ilmn')‘ into smilin By the grave and stem dm 111m 01‘ the cmmtenunco it wm'o, “ Though thy crest be Show and Shawn, Thnu,” I said, “ {LI'L sure u » cmven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven \Vmuh-ring {rum the Ni:th shoreâ€"â€" Tell me what thy Imdly name is 0111110 Night's Plutonium shore!” Much I marvelled this ungnmly Fowl 10 hem- (lisermrse so plainly, Though its answer little meaningâ€"- Lilth relevancy have; Fur we cannot help agreeing That no living hun :111 heng Everyel was hlest with seeing Bird ahovehis chamher door.- Bird 01‘ beast upon the sculptured Bust zlbuve his chamber door, With such words as “Nevermore.” But the Raven, sitting lonely On that plan-ed lmst, spoke only That nne word, as ill his soul in That one wm'd llU (lid oulpmn‘. Nothing; further then he uttered ; Not a. feather then he fluttered-â€" Till I scarcely more than muttered, “ Other friends have flown beforeâ€"- Then the bird said .“ Never-more.” But the Raven still beguiling, All my sad soul into smiling Straight I wheeled nmishioned seat in . Front of bird and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, ‘ I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking What this ominous bird ,of yoreâ€"- thatthis grim, ungainly, ghastly, ' Gaunt and ominousbird‘ofl’yqfie ' Meant in crbaking “ Nevermore." All, disfincfly'I remember It was in the bleak December, And each separate (lying ember Startlod at the stillness broken By reply so aptly spoken, Dugbpless,’_’ said I_7 “ what it utters Vol. V]. N0. '3. NEW SERIES. Is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master \Vhom unmm'cit'ul Disaster Followed fast and followed faster Till his songs one burden boreâ€"â€" '. 0f ‘Neverâ€"nevermore.’ ” Quoth the Raven, “ Now 1110113.” RICHMQNfiHILLA'ND YONGEGSTIGENERAL ADVERTISER. BY EDGAR ALLEN POE {vitamin}. The ; Raven. niaéiiimi s that is'di'é‘aihing Q And _the huuplig' t, o’er him streaming Throws his slug §w 0‘1} the floor And inv soul from nuli {ham ow y w d - ‘ . 3" “1:11, hes Hunting or! 1hc ' 1‘ Shall he liftedâ€"umGimme. “Prophet I” said I, “ thing of evil Iâ€"â€"- Prophet still, 1'fbi1'd 111‘ dwil !â€" VVhether tempter 512111. 01- whuiher Tempest tossed ilxco hem ashore, Desolnto, yet all Imduumod, 01111115 dwelt land onchumcdâ€" 011 this 1101110 by Horror hauntedâ€"é Tell me truly, I implore~ IS thereâ€"7's them 11:11111 in Gil(‘:1(1?~'â€" To” Incâ€"(GM 1110, I implore I” Quoth the Ramon, “ chonnom.” ” Be 1hu‘l’ wm'd our S3311) of puriing, Bird 01' fiend,” l shriulm‘n, upsturlmg~ “ Get thee hack into 11m tempest And The night‘s thmizm shore! Leave no Mud; plume : s :L mka 0f1hm‘ lie ihy sunl hath spoken 1 Leave my lonelinoss unhmhon !â€" Quit the bust :Lhmc my do 1‘! Take thy hmk from out my heart, and Take thy form from 01me (1001-! 'Quoth the Raven, “ Nevennore.” And the Raven, never flitting, Still is sining, still is siuing 0n the pallid bust of Palms Just above my chamber door; ' fivflmkélmflemws ----- Fred and. Maria, and Me. “Propho‘l I" said I, “ thing of evilâ€"‘â€" T‘I'ophut still, if MN! m- den]! By that lquwen 11ml hands above 115â€"- By the God we bmh :Ldox'(3- T011 Wis mu] wizh Homw laden If, wilhin the distant Aidcnn, It shall clasp (L suintotl maiden “"hom the angels name Lenore“ Cldsp a rare and rmlhmt maiden Whom the ungij mum-d Lenore.” Quoth the Raven], “ Novel-more.” Thus I sat engaged in gucsaing, But no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes 110w Burned into my liosom‘s core; This and more 15:11 divining, \Vith my heud at enae rmxliiiing 0111110 cushion‘s Velvet lining~ That 11101111111!“ng floated o’er, But whose velvet Violet lining: With the lumplight glowing o’er S/Lc shall Iii-05‘ ah, nevermoi'el PART THE FIRST. | V Continued/Dom 0217' last. i That very day I got a le tcr fron'il Fred saying he had been sick with1 a fever, owing to his anxiety about his business, and especially at the step he had driven me to take by' his own want of money. lfl had a few thousand dollars [could take 1 advantage of the state ofthe mar? ket, said he, and make a speculaâ€"t tion that would set me on my feet again, and you with me, Aunt Avery. Then you could buy the dear old place back and livejust as you used to live. But alas lâ€"â€"â€" this paltry sum is wanting. Money wouldn‘t set them old trees a growing again, says I to myself, nor make our old house ever look old again, at least not in my time. But it it could put Fred on his {set again, why it’s a pity he shouldn’t have it. And I‘ve had hard thoughts I ought not to have. had, and called him mean and sel- fish, and that isn‘t the way the Bible tells us to feel. lfl thought I could get to being as quiet and happy asl used to be in the old times. l'd giwt him every cent 1 have left, and welcome. But then where should I live and who‘d take and clothe and feed me for no- thing ? It ttkes all the widow Dean‘s grace and nature having me to board even when I pay her every Then methrmght the ah- grew denser, Perfumed from an unseen (10119013, Swung by SCI-:Lphim whose t'oott‘utls Tiuklcd on the tufted floor. “ “Yvetlee I cried, ‘ thy God hath lent thee, By these angels he hath sent thee Respiteâ€"respite and UPIK’HUIL‘ From thy memories of Lt-nom! Quafi‘, 0h qlmtf this kind nepentho, And forgot thi< hwt Lenore I7 Quoth the Raven, “ chrmorc.” Saturday night, arid I supposé people wasn't made to live together. I' Just Il’rdn Sam Avery he came sauntermg in, and says he ‘Aunt Avery, the doctor says if you don’t go 011' on a journey your head’ll split in two, and I‘ll tell you what, I’ve got a first-rate plan In my head that’ll set every thing straight in no time. You set here all day a worrng about Fred and a pitying him ’oause he can‘t pay his debts; now if you could put him in the way of what he owes you, would- n't, it take a load 01 your mind ?’ ‘Goodness Sam,’ says I, of course it would. But there ain’t no way unless it is to let him have what i got for the farm. And I’ve a good mind to do that.’ fliirmim. “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than Popular Opinion.” REEHEHGND HELL; FRIDAY, :JUNE 2253, i865. Well, says Sam, you‘vv got to go a journey and so have I, for l'm go- ing to New York on business â€"- And you can go along \vilh me, and see Fred and tell him you’ll lake a part ol'his debt in hoard. That will relieve his mind and his wife’s mind, and be as chrisiian an act as need be. And (hen, if after lrying ’em you don‘t like their ways, and don‘t feel to home, you come right back here, and me and my wile will make things agreeable for you. Amanda is a lillle woman anybody (would live with, and’if anybody ’é‘fifi‘ifi 3761.1 ié'cifi'ifi'f’flfféu like your tea hotâ€" V ‘_ I do. says" I, bilin’ hot. \Vell, ifyou like it hot, she does. But then if you change your mind and like it kind of insipid and lllli(‘,- warm, she'll change hcr's, and like it insipid. Amanda and l novel" had no words togelher, and she's a‘ nice little woman, that‘s a fact. l Sum, says I, you’ve hit the right nail on the head this llmc.. I’ll do what is no more’n (:ln'islian,anj go to Fred‘s. Poor man, how glad he'll be, and their little children too. Iwondcrl never thought of it before ?. So the next week we set off, Sam and I, and all the way I kept taking back Ihe thougle I'd had about him, for it was plain now he had Fred’s goud at heart ; and all along i had fancied there wasn’t much love lost between ’em. How plea- sed thev'll be, l‘declare, says I to mysnlf, I can take hold and help Fred‘s wife about the work. and them children; and lhere's my old black silk, 1 can make that Over for one of ’em. if they are any of ’(‘m big enough to wear silk, and then there’s my de laine! I hadn‘t felt so happy since lhe day i set in the gallery, but just then we drove up lo a very high brown house, and Sam cried out ': Don I talk so Sam. It makes me. sort of shudder to think of my father lhut‘s gone 10 heaven, caring any- thing about the, bid place now, and what color Squire Jackson‘s cur- pcts are, and such things. And if you've got any plan for Fied’s good in your head; I» wash you‘d lell ii, for ‘I'm afraid I, havenl shown a christian spirilaboul him_ \Vhy,‘\vo ain't going to a 1avcrn, are we ? says I, I thought we was going right to Fred’s! \Vake up Aunt Avery, here we are ! me. Do 300 think your good old father worked and tolled and got his face sun-burnt and his hands as hard as two horns, just for Fred Avery .7 What do you suppose h'ed say film could rise from his grave and see strangers rampaging over the old place, and them trees cut down, and them red and yaller car- pets all over the lloors your mother used to keep so clean and shining? Why he'd sneak haclt where he rose lrom in less than no time. I am so bewildered hearing him talk, and I didn't knowvwhat i was about, and 1' began to think there? two ways in looking at things, and maybe I hadn’t reflected whether or not my father would havn liked what I had done. But I knew I‘d tried to do as I‘d ought, and so 1 says to Sam: "‘11' 3'61! 'do’.‘l’li ’h-aveiy‘ou pm. In the asylum,” says! Siam. ‘You don’t know nothing about “the ._w.m‘1d and I do, and I want. you (0 pmâ€" mise me that you Wmfl 1619 Fred have that money Without consulting V Wéllfthis is Fred’s; jump out. Aunt Avery, for therc’re opening the door. What! this great palace ! says I, all struck up. Oh Sam! it must be they’vermolf boarders ! Sam kind 0’ laughed, and he, Then it'll come all the handler havmg you, says he. We went up the steps. and pretty soon they let us in, and Sam puiied mo. aiong mm a great, long, sp'on- did room and set me down on a sofy. At first I couldn‘t see much of anythinfr. for there was thick curtains over the winders, and the blinds shut to, but after a minute I began to. make out the things, and there was a sightof ’em to be. sure, chairs tend tables and sost and I don’t know whatnot, all in a muss instead of settihg regular and tidy up against the wall. ' Things is in a dreadful confusion. ain‘t they? says I, but I suppow Fred’s wife is a gelling supper, and ain’t had time to clear up yet.' instead of setting regular and tidy Why, ain’t they had dinner yet E up against the wall. ' say Ll hopei they ain’t waited all Things is in a dreadful confusion. this time for me. ain't they? says I, but I suppose Oh dinner isn't till six, says she. Fred’s wife is a gelling supper, and I stared at her and she stared at ain’t had time to clear up yet.' me, and then says she : By this_time a. lady came into lguess you ain’t been much in the room, and stood a staring first' New York? says she. Good-bye. Aunt Avery, I'm a go- ing now, says Sam coming in, re member what I‘ve told you about Amanda; good-bye Miss Avery, goud-bye'Fred; and so offhe went. And I began to fool lonesome as soon he went. And I realized lhal l was boat out, what wnh the journey and all. So I said l should be glad to go up stairs If it would- n’t be 100 much lrouble 10 show me the way. \ . 1at me and then at Sam as If We {was wild lnd'mns or Hollcmms, and Esays she: Did I understand Mr. Avery to say you are his aunt! says she after a while. 1351; "011 paxdon if I‘ve said any- thing out of the “nut, says I, it. looks like such a big house, and as if it had such a sigh! of room in i1. ch mahm l‘m iris aunt, by the father’s side, says I. Most cxlraordinary ! says si‘c, N0, dear, not extradrdinmy, says 1. It‘s as natural as can be. Jere- mith Army and Abraham Avery they married sisters. And Jerry’s sislcr married a cousin. And Fred’s fulhur, he'â€" Keep boarders! gracious .’ says She. Fred he kept edging off while we was a moving of the chairs, and at last he got; Sam into the back parlor, for he. didn't seem m wan‘ nobody 10 hear what they was talk ing about. _ Frc‘d’s wife didn't say nothing. so saysl, Do you keep boarders, na’au? Oh no, not at all, says Fred, and he had my trunk carried up, and sent for a nice tidy young woman to show me my room, \Vcll, we went up so many pairs of stair that lwas all out of breath when I got 10 my room, and had to set dawn iu the first chair I see.-â€"-â€" It was one ’0 them short daysin the lull, and though it wasn’t more than fuur o’clock, it vas beginning to gmw dark, So the yong woman let down the cuttaihs and lighted the light, and I could see what a beautiful room it was. with lisuch a great \vide'bud, and a white *qullt all sweet and tidy, and the brown and blue carpet, and the Ibrown and blue curtains, and all. But I’m sun-prized he ain’t to home, 101' lmude an appointment with him for just Illis lime ’0 day. says he, and it's rather awkward not mfmd him. I'm free 10 say. Just [hen in vulks Fred a look- ing as black as thunder, and he lakes no [lolice of me but just goes up to Sam, as if he was going to catch him by 111011110111,qu says he, Well Sir! Weli, Sir! says Sam. And the ' slood 21 looking at each olhvrjusl like two roosters that’s a going to fight. Thinks 1 she feels bad at having me see her parlor in such a clutter, 5111le I made believe not to look at any thing, but for the lite 01 me I couldn‘t help seeing them chairs all askew, and so i got up and laid my bonnet, on the table, mad while 1 was u doing of ill just set a couple of ’em straight and even, b} the w’ndow. The minutcshe see me she run rMd pulled ’cm out and put ’em askew again. You’ve probably mistaken the house. says sho. Sam got up and says he, Isn’t Fred at home? says he. Upon that she stared worse. than ever, and filmed quile red, but Sam up and mid her who be we? and who 1 was. and that he was a going down to find Fred, and would leave me in her care. But after a minute Fred turned round shook hands, with me and says, This is my Aunt Avery, Maria, and the lady that had been a standing there all lhis lime, she SEared harder than ever, and says she, indeed? Dear me, says I, this room is too nice for an 0M lady like me. Isn't thrre some little corner you could tuck mo. into .9 Oh, this isn’t the best room by no moans, says she. Not but il’s a decent bod-mom enough 1h0=1gh.â€"« Shall I help you to dress for dinner ma’am P Why, do you keepa girl? says I, quite bewildered. And was that the girl that showed me the way up stairs ? \Vhat does she mean ? says she, look- ing at Fred. DIy dean Ian surprked :m you! says Fred. Of course everything strikes a person from the country as more or less singular. But here comes the children ! 'Vhe door opened and in mnne three ehfldrmi; two gifls and one boy, and every one of ’em dressed up in white, with curls a flying and ribbons a flying, and looking as if they’d just come out ot a baud~box. There wasn’t one of ’em more’n seven years old, and it come across me it was kind 0’ queer for ’em to talk ot'going out to get their living, as their pnhadsahitheyrhd,butflnnksI theyie smart little things and not like the com- mon kind. The youngest one wasn‘t much more than a baby, but he set up in aehair, and his pa and ma they gave him a good many unwholesome things, and.:dlthe others helped theinselves to Whatever they could lay their hands on. They wouldn’t speak to me, but all they seemed to care for was the good things and the nuts and raisins Fred kept a leeding’eni with. IBut thenzdl chfld- rens tend of eafing, and never would stop if they were left to their own my. 1 was'nt sorry to hear the old clock strike nine, and to go up to bed. But when I knelt down and tried to pray, it didn’t seen} as it did to lionie; there was such a noise in the street of wheelsi going by, that I couldn’t collect my thoughts at all, but I seemed to rush i and drive and tear along with them omâ€" lnibuses till my poor old heart got to beating like a millelapper. And Satan holiung round and kept saying ‘lVeH, what do you think of all this ‘3’ Youri poor nephew Fred seems very poor, don’t he, and this is a miserable little mean 'house, ain’t it? and don’t his poor wife have to Work hard? Where’s that old black silk ot'your'n, that you was a goâ€" ing to make over for the children ?k lIadn't you better stop a saying of your " prayers and begin to rip it? So I got :dl were cut, m1d undrmsed Inc, and blowed out the light and got into bed. It looked like a nice bed afore I got in, ”but as soon as I laid my head on the pil- low, I says to myself, ‘Faugh! what feathers! I never slept on such feathers, and ’tain’t wholesomz.’ popc it t1’( tons, reeo and drift ally hattl pres: supp hop( â€"-Si T: ing ‘ adol prac fly 6 they whe‘ the 5 ing. sun’ gent up a sum not and atel: as p days won exis tain and ’1 low pap _A»to (- whi llSlt dire turx boy eng and live inst do“ ehil pro the pas sail ina ing ex. unl her out his The idea} of my being my ai’d making; the soup 1 Ha! Jopgrcoulciln’t 1101p laughing I Fred smiled '3, little, but didn‘t say nothing, and it got to be kind 0‘ silent, and I kept thinking what a number 01 things was brought on to the table and so much trouble just for me, so says I : Don‘t put yourself out for me, Cousin Aycry. says I. If you make a. stranger oflnu I 5112111 wish I hadn‘t come. There ‘11 be plenty of that cold meat for toâ€" morrow, and I‘m partial to cold meat. I guess it ain’t worth while if" they ain’t going to have nobody, says I. And I’ll jist lay down a little while and get res- ted, ifyou'll call me when dinncr‘s ready. So she went down, and I tried to get a nap, but some how I couldn‘t, I was so faint, and beat with the journey and the need of something to out, if twusn’t more than a cracker. And when they come and culled me to dinner I was thankful to go down, though ‘twas so odd :1 eating‘ dinner after dark. ‘ Cousin Avery, says I to Fred’s Wif'c, you make your soup beautiful. And you all dressed up like it lady, too. I can‘t think how you do it. Now when I‘m round to Work 3 getting dinner, I can‘t keep nice and tidy. Not that I ever have such handsome clot-hes as your‘n, says I, for I See her a clouding up and didn‘t know what I‘d said to Vex her;â€" Tliere was :1 man a clearing (ill the table, and I see him'a laughing, and thinks 1 What‘s he laughing at I At me ? But I ain‘t done nothing to laugh at, and most likely its his own. thoughts are pleasing him. But just then he in with a great piece of roast beef and a. couple of boiled chickens, and ever so many kinds of vegetables, enough for twenty. \Vhy, Fred, says 1, them chicans look as plump and fat as if they‘d been raised in the country. I had an idea New Yorkvchickcns was only half-growed. But I suppose being brought up on a farm you know how to raise ‘cm more‘n common, don‘s you ? By this time we‘d about got through dinner, and the man had gone away, so Mrs. Avery she spoke up quite angry like and says she : l subpose they economize in their Vic- tuuls, thinks I, to pay for living in such a. big, handsome house. But I must say 1 never out such good soup, and it must have taken inore'n one beef-bone to make it, I‘m sure. W c all set down to the table, Fred and his wife, and me, and there wasn‘t nothing on it but soup. No, I never was out oi'Goshen before, till now, says I, and Goshen's ways ain’t like New York ways, at least I expect they ain't. But what is it you was a saying about dressing for dinner '3 Are theygoing to have company ? theygolng to have c§mpnny ? No, only I though you’d want to fix up a. little, says she. So I rose up on end, and tossed ’cm off on to the floor, but it didn’t make no (lifiercnce, and the air seemed full of brimstone and sulphur and all sorts of TERI‘JS $1 50 In Advance. "Wholc N0. 263. own cook ha 1 Even Seeing then that such things are so, we claim as a local Journal, a share of support from every one who wishes the welfare of the community in which he lives. Remem- ber the streets of Jerusalem are only kept clean by every man sweeping his own door- way, the local paper is that doorway and hence we ask every one here to take the paper, and watch the local interests of which it treats. The times we live in are momen tous, everyday is an epoch of wonders, to record which is the duty of the local press, and also to show whither these epochs are drifting us. Truthl‘ully, l‘uirly and impartiv ally Will we strive to do our part in life’s battles, and us one of the almighty local press, we demand the thoughtful, unbiassed support of the neighhorhood, and never hope to hear again a. slur on a. local press. â€"-Sm CTICI). \Vithont a local press no comm-y village can thrive,'thoy are the: lil'o‘s blooll Of 1119 body politic, and tllO-gl'Cut,“GLOBE” or ” LEADIgR ” are valuable, only in proportion as they onuncinto in the aggregate the senti- ments of their smaller, hut really more im- port-ant compcors. “'hile a ('ity press pre- tends to lead, in roality it does no more than follow. It is the local press whicherunci- ates the texts, the others only preach frdm it, and oftunmhadly. Is it not; a fact, thafi the majorin ‘ ofour M. P. P's. represunt local constituencos, and can afford to laugh at the thunders oftho “ GLOBE "’ or the an- athemas of the “ LEADER,” but let these local organs speak and they tremble, for a. nod can put them in Parliament, and even, less can put them out. Therefore, let no one dare to deSpise a village press, for, un- less that is pure, the body politic is corrupt, even :15 the noble river’s water is poisonous ifthe small fountain is polluted. Tm; TURXIP FLY.â€"~A method of prevent- ingr the ravages of the turnip tly has been adepted with moves“; in England. The practice is founded upon the fact that the fly emits its eggs in the autumn, and that. they are never hatched till the next spring, when the warmth and the fruitful state of the soil, by repeated ploughings and barrow ing. admit of the generating elTectH of the sun’s rays. It is at this periml the turnip is generally sown; the plant, therefore springs up about the time the fly is hatched, and a supply of food being thereby afforded, it is not surprising that the fly should multiply and thrive. Il‘, instead of sewing immedi- ately, the soil is brought into as fine a. state as possible and e sewing delayed fer ten days, although tly would be hatched, 'it would die for want 01' its natural food. The existence of the fly in a field may be ascer- tained by plucng cabbage leaves at night, and examining them in the n’terning. Says some lmi:'-l):‘:Lined, but pompous in~ dividnzil when mliml to give his Support to a loeul journal. “ Oh! I hate those nasty" lit.th papers,” when the fact is that these~ little despised sheets, have each more influ< once over the destinies of the world in one week, than a thousand such as he ever had, or would have, did they live to the end of time. All rivers are small at; the sourec.â€"; The merchant of a. village, despise him who dai‘é,"l'el- \vithoutféuch the wholeshlti honSes would soon be abodeéiot‘owlé and vampires. Don'tnoven blow out the (5515, again: says she, but turn it all" so, says she; and she put out the light and went‘away, and there I stood in the dark, and didn’t know where the bed w: s, and went 'fcclâ€" ing round and round, and kept getting hold ofnll sorts of things, till at last I' found it, and was thankful to undress and creep in and hidcmyjsélf under the clothes. ‘ " THE Hermie SWITCH Hartmanâ€"The fol- lowing incident is related in a European paper as having lately uncured in Prussia: 4A S‘Nilt'll tender had just, taken his place to change the truck, in order to turn a train which Was in sight, so as to prevent a co~ lisien with unnthur train from an opposite direction. At this critical moment, on turning his head, he discovered his little boy phiyiuq 0n the track of the advancing engine. He might spring to his rescue and remove him safely, and hundreds of lives might he lost by his neglect. In an instant; his resolution was taken. “Lie down!” he shouted to his boy, and the child, happily accustomed to obedience promptly threw himself on the ground, and the whole train thundered Over him, the passengers little dreaming how much their safety had cost thth titther. The trembling mun rushed forward, fearing to find noth- ing-j hut, :1 mangled corpse7 hut no-words can express his joV {Itseeing his child alive and unlntrmed. The next day the King. having heard ()Fthe circumstance, sent for the man and presented him the Medal of Honor for l his heroism. V OW V 7 r1 ' A . ' Blowcd out the hght !, Goodness Y It‘s lucky I'vegot a nose, or you’dhuvc been dead before mornihg, f0 ‘ aught I know; and she ran into my roomnud set such q. light :1 blazing that I Was hulfdazzlcd'. ’ , I ain’t bben about nothin’, says I, only I couldn’t get to sleep, and I didn’t know what was the matter after I blowed, out the light. WWM_mm «fixâ€"n.“ things, such as you expect to smell‘when. Satanis‘a plowing round: :I ibitizi’sfif I should choke, and then as if I; should smother, and turn which Way I Would'i‘ couldn't get to sleep. My head' felt worse than it did before I left home, and. I began to Wish I’d staid there, and not come to this neWâ€"‘fangled place Where everything seems so strange. ' A ‘At last I got up and dressed me in the darkhavugl,‘ went out into the entry to sec if,I~fe'oiila,§ get a breath of fresh air, and who should‘ be coming up but cousin Fred’s Wife: " i“ Why, ain’t you to bed, yet ?isays; I. No, says she, I ain’t, but where does this horrid smell of gas come from ‘2; What have you been about ? says she. g; SQUATHNG "rm: CIuCLE.â€"lf you think it thn my thing to square the circle. just go and settle your wife‘s h“ for hoops. ONLY A. VILLAGE PAPER. filifirruunvmw. To be mné‘fmwd.