Pomeroy weekly telegraph. [volume] (Pomeroy, Meigs County, Ohio) 1860-1866, 1862-06-20

| for our troops. She was DISTRIBUTE
the cheerful works among the vetera
when she happened to come across 81
vate Jinks, who had just got his ratio
and was swearing audibiy at the colId
tion of wild beasts be bad found in d
of his buiscuita. y @
"Young man. says she, in vinee
manner, s'do syourwant TO be. damned
Private Jinks reflected moment, a
says he:
"Really, mem, I don't know enoud
about horses to say.
t The literary agent was great
shocked, but recovered in time to hai
the warrior small book, and told hi
to read it and be saved.
+ II WAS a small aud enlivenine yolum
my bog. Nsittsa hVse niss i5nssy lats|
SERVED up for breakfast by the Emperd
of Glorygeolia, and entitled aThe Eli
that Never is Quenched.n
I Jinks looked at the book, and saws h /
"What district is that fire in?''
The daughter of the Republic bit oI
a small piece of cough candy, and sa Il
she: "lt's down below, young, mar
where you bid fair to GO
"And will it never be put out?, sa i
Private Jinks. s' szs
The deeply affected crino.ine shoo|
her head until all her curls ratified. AM
says she; "No, young man; it will bur,
and burn, young man."
/ "Then L m safe enough!'' saws Priyat
fJinks, slapping his knee; "for I'm
member of Forty Hose, and if that ali
fire is to keep burning, they'll have i.
have paid Fire Departmentdown there
and shut US fellows out.''
The daughter of the Republic in
lssantfy left him, my boy; and when mex
saw her she was arguing with chap
lain, who pretended to believe that ERE
men sometimes went to heaven.
Woman, my boy, is an angel in dis
tgnise; and if she had wings what a ris
there would be in bonnets! = s@s
Yours, for the next Philharmonic.
ORpHEus G. KERR.
Looking over an accumulation of oil
letters--What strange mixture Of fee.
ings that induces-heart. sickness to,
often predominant as one sighs,s aAh
for the change 'twixt now and thepr,.-
u have little packet, saysthe autho,
OF dream ilfe, not very large, tie.
tup with narrow crimson ribbon. nov
soiled with frequent handling, which
far into some winters night, Z tax,
down from its nook uponamy shelf, auc
unite, and open, and run over with sucl
sorrow, and such joy, such tears ant
smiles, as am sure make me for week,
after, kinder and better man Ther.
are in this little packet letters in tn,
familiar hand of a mother. What gen
tie admonitioni What tender affection
God have mercy upon him who outliyes
the tears that such affection call up Il
the eye There are others iuthe buedcel
IN the delicate and uniform hand Of, i
loved and lost sister--written when she
and you were full of glee, and the bes1
mirth of usefulness. Does it harm you
to recall the mirthfulness, or, to trac.
again for the hundredth time, tha
scrawllng postscript at the bottom, with
its Is SO carefully crossed by the child
ish hand of a little brother!' Well SAYS
Bulwer Lytton, in his last. best novel
My Novell' worthily dubbed-that q.
thought written in warm, sunny life
and then suddenly risingsup to us, when
the h and that traced, and the heart tha,
cherished it, are dust lis verify ghost.
1t is likeness struck off Of the fond
human being, and surviving it. Far
more truthful than bust or portrait, il
bids US see the tear dow, aud pulse beat.
What ghost can the church yard yield
to US like the writing of the dead?''