15S X i rd, A WORD ABOUT HAPPINESS. TO E. A. MY DEAR FRIEND :—When Jenny Lind was singing in this country a friend of mine bought a ticket for eleven dollars, which gave him admittance to one of her best performances. He was much more than pleased. He was thrilled with delight. Five years after he told me that he had never purchased so much happiness, with so small an amount of money—that the investment not only paid well at the time, but that it had ever since been yielding compound interest, for he never thouyht of the joy of that hour without feeling some of it afresh. I was thinking of this the other day as confirming the view expressed by Sydney Smith, that " mankind are al ways happier from having been happy, so that if you make them happy now you make them happy twenty years hence, by the memory of it." Certain am I, that my own life is far happier from having passed a glad, free, childhood, with a twin sister, in the country, amid the wild grandeur of the mountains. How much we all owe to the pleasing experiences and associa tions of childhood, to "Those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day." I, for one, believe in enjoying this life to the very uttermost. I mean, of course, within the limits of right and duty, and not too near that outer line which separates between Christianity and worldliness, and where the tempta tion to indulge in amusements of doubt ful moral propriety becomes doubly strong. Surely if any one has a right to the rational enjoyment of the good things of this life, which are the gifts of our Heavenly Father, it is the one who seeks to keep " a conscience void of of fence," and who labors to live in the faithful discharge of the daily duties, that grow out of the relations he sus tains to God and to his fellow-men. It is in the very nature of religion to make him happy here as well as hereafter. " For godliness is' profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." I am glad you have found so much enjoyment in reading " Jean Ingelow's poems." I think with you, that some of them are full of " tenderness and beau ty ;" and there is another word which expresses to my mind, much of them the word freshness—freshness of lan guage, of style, and of thought, showing that they come from a fresh mind, like gold coins just taken from the mint. And then, what cannot fail to make them dear to good people is, that they have about them, like the poems of Mrs. Browning, the clear ring of an earnest and healthful Christianity. Do you remember your remark that since you became a Christian, and more especially of late, you seemed to your self to be living a two-fold life, a life oc cupied with every day duties, and at the same time an inner, higher life ? doubt not, this is to some extent, the experience of every Christian. What, for instance, did the Psalmist mean, when in the hour of spiritual despon dency he came to his own rescue with these words, "Why art thou cast down, 0 my Soul ? and why art thou disquiet ed in me ? hope thou in God ; for I shall yet praise him for the help of his coun tenance." Does not the very word "Soliloquy," a talking to one's self, imply in the same person both the speaker and hearer What a power, and what, a source of happiness, thus to be able to address ourselves, and to inspire our own souls with hope in the dark hours of life. But we ought never to forget that it is the inner and higher life, which is to regulate the outer and lower one, that by looking chiefly to the interests of the former, we secure the best interests of the latter, just as the mariner, who directs his vessel by the light of the stars in the heavens, is more likely to rake a straight and safe voyage, than the one who seeks guidance only from what is around him and near him. To live the true spiritual life, we must "walk by faith and not by sight,"—faith in something out of ourselves, and above ourselves, and infinitel greater than our selves. Ralph Waldo Emerson would say "Hitch your wagon to a Star." But there are others who would say, Direct your foot-steps by the light of " the Star of Bethlehem," that Star which is never to set, and whose light is never to go out. 0, to be united by a strong faith to Him who is "the bright and morning Star ;" to love Him with an affection warmer and purer and stronger than that which we cherish for any and for all others, is not this the highest happi ness of earth ? and does it not constitute the joy of heaven itself ? And if the highest happiness both here and hereafter is to be found in love for Christ, and an obedience to his re quirements, and if it be in the very na ture of true happiness to augment and perpetuate itself, then how important that we constantly live such a life as shall secure to us this happiness. "So should we live, that every hour laity die, as dies thd natural flower A self-reviving thing of power. " That every Thought and every Deed May hold within itself the seed Of future good and future need." That such a life may be yours is the prayer of Your own true friend, KARNAIDI. LETTERS. From a Lady visiting Philadelphia, du ring the Winter of 1863, to her young friend in the Country. NO. 111. DEAR EDITH have visited various places of public resort since my last let ter was written and will speak of some of them before I finish. Truly it is pleas ant to hear that I am so greatly missed; indeed I can reciprocate your feelings. Often when I am among strangers, my thoughts revert to my mountain home, and I turn round, almost expecting to meet your kind smile, but all are com paratively unknown ; and I repress the emotions that were just ready to unveil themselves to you. So the reading cir cle has met. It must have required no small degree of perseverance to bring them together punctually. It is a good plan and if properly carried out, will be improving to the members. It will aid to repress that feminine small talk so insidi ous and injurious to many women. Now I must give you some account of a lecture I attended the other evening. The lecturer is a literary character of some notoriety. His manner was agree able and his language good ; he seemed to be popular, and was repeatedly encored. But I should have liked him much better if he had not manifested a petty kind of spite toward the clergy as a class. He rather went out of his way to gratify his envy in this respect. I say envy, as this trait no doubt, was at the root of the feelings expressed. 84, I must pass on to other topics and speak of lectures more fully, when I have heard more extensively. I have been out every night this , week but one, and do not feel very bright. Was it not rather tyrannical in you to make me promise to write a page or two before retiring? that you might have the benefit of my observations while impres sions were lively. There is one evil resultincr b from your plan, my letters are scarcely legible. You know lam a rapid writer and I allow myself less than an hour to dot down these impressions for you. I have been at a concert since I wrote; it was a rare treat to me ; nothing since I arrived has afforded me more real enjoyment. I can speak of the pieces when we meet ; writing is tame in describing music. The ladies are very gay in concert dress. I did not admire the appearance of some who occupied conspicuous seats near us. Glaring col ors are my aversion; they evince a want of taste. Some young girls- near us amused themselves by constant whisper ing. It was very annoying ;my friends seemed vexed, and looked at them two or three times, but without any effect. You may remember I did not intend to omit my reading for one day. I have now been here more than a month, and have not read on an average more than half the time. But if I were a resident of the city I could be more systematic in the arrangement of my time ; now, every one I meet, seems to have an in terest in helping me to dispose of it. It will amuse you if I mention one feature of city life that has rather sur prised me ; the fact mentioned, you can draw the inference for yourself. Ladies here are not contented to be extravagant in dress but it is the custom to publish it generally. Silks, laces, furs and jew elry are priced and cost freely told to strangers, with the names of the fortunate possessors ; and if any doubt is manifested by the listener, your inform ant will tell you (with a conscious ex pression of pride in her superior oppor tunities,) I know it to be a fact; Mrs. T. or Miss S. (as the case may be) told me herself. liThy it is so I cannot discuss now ; but the fact is indubitable. Ward robes are priced and ticketed as mater ial for conversation. The robe that was ugly beyond endurance, when the price is named becomes beautiful, the cost being the standard of taste. A short sketch of my visit to the "Academy of Fine Arts" will interest you; a full description I must defer until we meet. There are some beautiful paintings to be seen there and also a few really- fine pieces of sculpture. "Hero and Leander" you have seen, so that I need not take up the time in describing that beautiful work. Ido not consider myself capable of criticising works of art; yet as every one who admires them strongly must have an opinion, I may speak of some you have not seen. There are two faces in marble that impressed me so vividly that I could think 'of nothing l':11.'110-11": 4 :11° ?, A else for a time' "Spring," is the bust of a young girl with a most beautiful face ; fitting emblem of that lovely season that brings birds and flowers to gladden the young and cheer the aged. The coun tenance indicates a happy heart, and the whole expression is so attractive that it compels the eye to rest until satisfied, that memory can brine up that face at will. I intended passing through to another room ; but this face . arrested my footsteps as effectually as if I had been addressed. The other is an " Alto re lievo," entitled " Grief." A sad and wonderfully expressive countenance ; and were it not for the heavy appearance of the hair, it would be'a true exposition of the young artist's idea. The mass of disheveled locks overshadows the face en tirely.; the mind is disturbed in its efforts to grasp the idea of the artist. There is not room now to speak, of the paintings as I wish to say a few Words on ether topics. I am glad to hear that you are so deeply interested in my inquiries, as re gards the mental progress of the young ladies here. lam gaining an insight on that point, in which the observations of Mr. B. will greatly aid me. I have only seen him once; since, and that was during a call he made on Aunt Helen rather late in the evening. As he found com pany here, there was no opportunity to resume the subject that interests me. But as he said good evening, he observed that we had yet to finish the discussion commenced at Mrs. L.'s ; p adding that he feared I thought him severe. " No," I replied, " I feel, on the contrary, obliged by your candor." Let-me hear from you soon, and do not send me a short letter. Yours with loie, Though He slay me, yet 'will I trust in Him " Open the window, Rene, my dear son," said the grandmother with a faint voice: " The sun shines beautifully in the valley, and the air must be soft and mild. I long fora breath of fresh air." " I will gladly do anything you say, grandmother, dear ; bnt that ugly cough of yours ? The air is not so mild as' you think ; the wind blows cold enough from the mountains." • The grandmother smiled faintly, and raised herself a little in the bed: " You need not be afraid, my dear boy," said she. " I feel that my end is near; nothing can do me much harm just now. Open the window ! My chest feels, oppres sed; my heart beats slowly, and as if something was trying to stop it. Rene, dearest child my , 91d eyes will not see much more sunlight upon earth. feel that they will soon—very so,on—be closed forever. You will be glad, my darling, that you no : longer have to watch over and *sit upon a poor helpless - old woman, who can be nothing but a burden to you." "Grandmother ! Oh dear grandmother? don't talk so !" exclaimed the boy, burst ing into tears and kneeling beside the bed. The exhausted old woman pat out her hand; he clasped it in both of his.. " You break my heart when you talk so. You know I love you dearly, grand mother; don't you ? Oh no, no ! you will . live a good while yet, to let me show you how much I love you!" Old Greta looked into the fresh, open, honest face of the handsome boy, who had just completed his twelfth year: It was the freshness and open honesty of look that made him' handsome. " Not for a world, my dear boy," said she, "would I distress you. How could I after the years of true and loving care that you have given me ? But I feel--I feel sure—l can't tell why or how—but I feel sure that my end is near ; and who will take care of you, my boy, when I am gone ? But I do wrong to ask that; God will. I have prayed for you, Rene —prayed earnestly—and I know that God has heard me. Don't cry, my child.! Dry up your tears. You have comfnited My declining years ; don't embitter my last moments." The child tried to choke down his sobs. " But I can't quite help it, grandmother. When you are gone, I shall be all alone ; not one in the whole world to love me ! And I do love you se' much !" "No, no, dear child," said the old woman, "not all alone. You have a. Father up in Heaven. Give Him your heart, my son. Raise your eyes and your hands to Him, and you will soon find that you are not forsaken. Be hon est, truthful, and industrious, as you have always been, and His eye will look upon you in love. He will bless, guard, and keep you. Now open the window, my son." Rene got up and did as he was told. Cool and refreshing, the wind from the Alps blew into the room, and seemed to breathe new life into that old and feeble frame. She inhaled it with delight. " Oh, how delightful it is, Rene !" said she with a faint smile. " Now draw back the ivy branches that hang before the window. I want to take one more look at my dear native valley. Oh, how, beautiful the dear God has made it! See !" and she pointed out to him the snow upon the mountains glittering in the sunshine, the broad ice-fields upon their sides, the rushing, roaring river that poured down the cleft, the sun-tipped summit of Mt. Blanc, towering above all, and the flocks feeding so peacefully beside the wild streams. At last she drew her breath. " That's enough," said she. " Now bring the stool and sit here beside me." The boy obeyed. Taking his hand in hers, she told him that she was dying : that her death would leave him alone; and she wanted HELEN. THE AVALANCHE. him to promise that, all his life long, he would keep God before his eyes, try as far as he was able to obey all His com mands, and to do nothing contrary to them. The boy promised, and added, as the tears rolled down his cheeks : " And I will never forget, dear grand mother, what you have taught me." "I hope not, I hope not," said old Greta earnestly. "And remember, Rene, God has heard your promise now. Don't forget my dying words!" " Oh, no, no ! not dying !" exclaimed Rene in alatia. "You will not die yet, ~ grandmother t " Very soon, very soon, my child," said she feebly, and even as she spoke, she sank back pale and exhausted upon her pillow. "God bless you. I can say —no more. God—" The words died upon her lips, her eyes closed, and she breathed so faintly that Rene thought she was gone. Sobbing aloud, he dropped on his knees 'beside the lied, took her old and wrinkled hand, and covered it with tears and kisses. But suddenly, with a strength that was supernatural, she sat erect, andin a clear firm tone cried out ; "Boy I Rene! my child'! Fly ! There is danger at hand ! A cloud is hanging over ouf house ! Danger is approaching. Fly ! fly ! I hear thunder in the mountains! Hark ! a crash, too! It is coming nearer ! Quick! Fly! fly! or you are lost! God help you! my child, my child !" Wondering and astonished the boy sprang to his feet. A new hope filled his heart—his grandmother had received new strength. Poor child ! it was but for a moment. One look of unutterable love, one smile, and again she closed her eyes as she sank back upon her pillow. She was dead; he could no longer doubt. The child was now, as he himself had said, " alone in the world." His parents had died long before, and he had not, as far as he knew, a relative on the earth. He sat down on - the side of the bed, the tears rolling down his cheeks, and the last words of his grandmother passing through his mind. Then hnot up to go to the pastor of the village church—the father as well as the minister of his peo ple. He must ask his help to bury the dead. But his steps were arrested by a strange sound—a fearful roll of thunder among the mountains. Then there came a crash—a crash that shook the hut, and made the window-frame rattle. Then the sun was darkened by a storm cloud that rolled down the side of the moun tains, and there came a thick darkness over the whole valley. Nearer, nearer, thunder, and crash, and darkness, and storm-cloud, all came on together. "An avalanche !" exelainied the terri fied child,_ clasping his hands. "Dear God, save me! Dear, dear grandmother! that was what you were warning me of ! Tondif - reard it coming ! How strange ! od take care of me ! I cannot fly now !" Louder and yet more fearful came the mighty mass of snow in its thundering 184. He heard it approach ; he heard the roof crash beneath it ; he heard the glass splinter into fragments ; gave one cry, and, paralyzed with fear, fell sense less upon the floor. It must have been for hours that he lay there ; when he opened his eyes he was in thick darkness, and everything was still as death. He could not see, but he.humbly thanked God that he lived. " How strange !" he murmured, "What a mercy it is thtit I am saved ! the roof crushed in, everything about me crushed and broken, and I saved ! Ah ! you dear, good grandmother ! It was for your prayers for me that the good God did it !" Raising himself, he felt around him as far his hand would reach; but all was a mass of ruin. The broken roof, the fallen rafters had formed a sort of shed over him, which kept off the snow. He felt his way to the bed. He took the cold hand of his grandmother, kissed it, and then liky down on the floor beside her, for the whole room was clear of snow. He said to himself :—" Well, if I must die here, it will be with her ; and if the good people of the village—if any of them are left—ever come to look for us they will put us both in the same grave. That will be a comfort." He was not at all frightened or anx ious. He thought quietly over the past, and made plans for the future, if he should get out. Most strange of all, it seemed to him, that his grandmother should have known of its coming so long before for it was nearly an hour. " Truly," he thought, "it is even as the good pastor said the other day :—‘ The dying see things we do not dream of.' And she warmed me, too ! Dear, good grandmother! But I didn't understand her, so it was of no use. Maybe God will make the neighbors think of me, and come to help me—that is, if the avalanche has not buried them all." Again he lay still for a long, long time ; then he began to feel hungry. He groped his way to the place where the cupboard had stood ; it was shat tered, and so was everything in it ; but he found a bit of bread and a jug - 0 milk. With these he refreshed himself, then went back and lay down .3n the floor again beside the bed. Soon he fell asleep, and slept as peacefully as though nothing had happened. He was awakened by a tumult over his head. "There !" said he, after list ening a moment, " the neighbors have come to help me. I thought they ! Grandmother said that God would never leave me in trouble. Oh, lam so glad ! Now she will have a decent grave !" The noise over his head increased; soon he heard voices. Then he heard the clergyman say :—" Here it is, my children. We have hit on the right spot. See, here are the rafters. Now, courage ! Perhaps we may find the living." "Yes, sir !" cried the little boy, as loudly as he could, " God has saved me ! lam not even hurt !" A cry of joy rang through the air. " Quick, my friends, quick !" said the good pastor, eagerly. " That was Rene's voice ! Noble boy ! God be thanked for this blessing on our work !" The men redoubled their toil. Snow and rubbish were thrown aside, and a, ray of light soon streamed in upon the child. A monient more, and he sprang into the extended arms of the dear old pastor. " Oh, thank you! thank you all !" said he. wasn't at all afraid. I knew you would come as soon as yon could." "But your grandmother, Rene ?" asked the pastor. "Is she killed ?" "No, sir," said the boy. "Not by the avalance. She died a little before it came. I was just coming to you when it stopped me. My dear, dear grandmother 1 All help is too late for her !" ~l4ii r# ntfltL WISTAR'S BALSAM, WISE ONE OF THE OLDEST AND MOST RELIABLE REMEDIES IN THE WORLD FOR Coughs, Colds, Whooping Cough, Bron chitis, Difficulty of Breathing, Asthma, Hoarseness, Sore Throat, Croup, and Every Affection of THE THROAT, LUNGS AND CHEST, INCLUDING EVEN CONSUMPTION. WISTAR'S BALSAM OF WILD BERRY. So general has the use of this remedy become, and so pcpu /or is it everywhere, that it is unnecessary to recount its virtues. Its works speak for it, and find utterance in the abundant and vo/untary testimony of the many who from long suffering and settled disease have by its use been restored to pristine vigor and health. We can present a mass of evidence in proof of our assertions, that CANNOT BE DISCREDITED. The Rev. Jacob Sechler, Well known and much respected among the German population in this country, makes the following state ment for the benefit of the afflicted. HANOVER, Pe., Feb. 16, 1869. Dear Sirs :—Having realized in my family important benefits from the use of your valuable' preparation— WLSTAR'S BALSAM OP WILD CHERRY—it affords me pleasure to recommend it to the public. Some eight years ago one of my daughters seemed to be in a decline, and little hopes of her recovery were entertained. I then procured a bottle of your excellent Balsam, and before she had taken the whole of the contents of the bottle there y was a great improvement in her health. I have, in m individual case made frequent use of your valuable medicine, and have always been benefitted by JACOB SECHLER. From /1. D. MARTIN, 81, D., Of Mansfield, 1 Toga co., Pa. Having used in my practice the last four years, Wis tar's Balsam of Wild Cherry, with great success, I most cheerfully recommend it to those afflicted with obsti nate Coughs, Colds, Asthma, &C . . • Prom Jesse Smith, Esq., President of the Morris County Bank, Morristown) New Jersey. "Having USOd DR. WISTAR'S BALSAM OF WILD CHERRY for about fifteen years, and having realized its beneficial results in my family, it affords me great pleasure in recommending it to the public as a valuable remedy in cases of weak lungs, colds, coughs, &c., and a remedy which I consider be entirely innocent, and catmay be taken with perfec to t safety by the most delie in health." From Hon. John E. Smith, A Distinguished Lawyer in Westminster, Bid I have on several occasions used Da. WISTAH'S BALSAM WILD CHFARY for severe colds, and always with decided benefit.. I know of no preparation that is more effica cious or more deserving of general use. The Balsam has also been used with excellent effect by J. B. Ewan, Merchant, Hail's Cross Roads, Md. Wistarls Balsam of Wild Cherry. None genuine unless signed "I. BUTTS," on th wrapper. For sale by J. P. DINSMORE, No. 491 Broadway, New York, S. W. FOWLE & Co., No. 18 Tremont street,B os ton And by all Druggists. ANNUAL OPENING OP SPRING BONNETS, THURSDAY, MARCH 31st, 1864. WOOD & CARY, No. 125 Chestnut Street, Philada. 994-946. LIFE A ----- or JOHN HiISS BY E. H. GILLETT. Two Vols. Royal Bvo. Price, $6,00 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. Mr. Gillett has done agood work in devoting so muo. talent and labor to one interesting field of historical re search, with the view of diffusing a knowledge of one of the most remarkable men, and one of the most imps taut movements in ecclesiastical history. There hay , been, to our view, few more valuable contributions tt our religious literature than these two volumes during . the present century. The author of this work tak.e., rank with Sparks, Bancroft, Irving, Prescott, Hopkins and others, who have done so much to exalt the reputa tion of our country in the world of letters by their his torical productions.—Princeton Review. A richer contribution to Historical Theology has not been made, either in this country or Europe, for many years, than by these noble volumes.— Thedogicad Eclectic. Fertile as the present age has been in historical works of the highest merits,. few of them will rank above these volumes in those qualities which give permanent inter est and value to a history. It is a work which reflects honor on American literature, and adds another name to the noble list of American tustorians.—AtnEr. Prat.. and Theoloqic' al Review. INSURE YOUR LIFE IN YOUR OWN HOME COMPANY. .1%-A2MILIC.A.N LIMISIBICE dB MST MIT Walnut Street, S. E. eor. of Fourth. INCOME FOR YEAR 1863, OVER $200.000. LOSSES PAID DURING THE YEAR AMOUNTING To $62,000. Insurances made upon the Total Abstinence Rates, the lowest in the world. Also, upon JOINT .4TOOR Ratet, which are over 20 per cent, lower than Mutts Rates. THE TEN-YEAR NON-FORFEITURE PLAN, by which a person insured can make all his payments in ten years, and does not forfeit, should not be able to pay his full TEN years, is now a most popular method of Insurance. Insurers upon the MUTUAL SYSTEM in this Com• pany have the additional guarantee of $250,000 CAPITAL STOCK all paid up IN CASH, which, to gether with CASH ASSETS, now on hand, amount to OVER $BOO,OOO. The Trustees have made a DIVIDEND on all Mutual Policies in force December 31,1863, of FIFTY PER CENT. of the amount of PREMIUMS received during the year, which amount is credited to their Policies, and the Dividend of 1860, upon Policies issued that year is now payable as the Policies are renewed. THE AMERICAN IS A HOME COMPANY Its Trustees are well known citizens in our midst entitling it to more consideration than those whose managers reside in distant cities. Board of Trustees. Alexander Whilbtn, William J. Howard, J. Edgar Thomson, Samuel T. Bodine, George Nugent, John Aiknum, Hon. James Pollock, Charles F. Hearlnk Albert C. Roberts Hon. Joseph Allison, P. B. Mingle, Isaac Hazlehnrst, Samuel Work. ALEXANDER WRILLDIN, President. SAMUEL WORK, Vice President. JOHN C. SIMS, Actuary. JOHN S. WILSON, Secretary and Treasurer. CHARLES 0. ROBESON, Asst. Secretary EIYELESI EIVEUIPESI 11111,111 RS! PAPER I PAPER! . 1 ) A I P NITLS INITIALS! INITIALS' Stamped free of charge, Stamped free of charge. Initials stamped on free of charge, At MAGEE'S, 316 Chestnut street, At MAGEE'S, 316 Chestnut street, Between Third and. Fourth. NOW READY-PRICE 75 CENTS PEOPLE'S EDITION OF "P_Lio.R.'l l oN'S GENERIC IM ER 3 in HMS. One volume, octavo, paper, price 75 cents With the view of meeting the extensive popular demand for this remarkable book, this edition has been prepared. The page and types are similar to those of flarper's Magazine. Some of the less important docu ments are omitted, and in some instances the account has been condensed, yet never so as to interfere with the interest or completeness of the story. Unquestionably this book stands pre-eminent in in terest among all yet occasioned by the rebellion. Its subject and author combine to render it fascinating. Fifteen editions have been called for as fast as they could be printed. it has been.lllost warmly commended by the loyal press of the country. and scarcely less so by a portion at least of the English press, by whom it is acknowledged to be a complete vindication of General Butler from the malicious charges which envy and hatred have brought against him. It contains an anecdotal sketch o General Butler's brilliant and remark able career at the bar of Massachu setts; a history of the secret movements in the Charles ton convention ; conversations between Gen. Butler and the leading secessionists at Washihgton in December, 1860; the real plans of the traitors ; Gen. Butler invited to join them; his advice to Buchanan; his efforts in prepariog Mas sachusetts for war; the celebrated march via Annapolis, to Washington ; his night march to Balti more; collision with Gen. Scott; his course at Fortress Monroe; the history of the contrabands; his advice to the Administration how to take Richmond; the truth about the battle of Great Bethel; the Hatteras Expedi tion; Ins SECRET HISTORY OF THE New ORLEANS ERTEDITION; the adventures of the General in_ ~etting to Ship Island ; A. FULL ACCOUNT OP WM CAPTURE OF DAM ORLEANS ; the land ing of the troops in the city; -A ooxrurs NARRATIVE or SucCEEDIN6 EVENTS, with a large number of highly inter esting narratives and anecdotes never before published; the recall of General Butler, and the explanation given of it by the Government; his present opinions upon the great issues before us. Edition in large type, crown, Svo., cloth, 602 pages, price $2 50. People's Edition, Svo., paper, 75 cents. German Edition $l. Sent by mail on receipt of price. For sale by MASONS HAMLIN, Boston, and by all Booksellers. Published by MASON BROTHERS, 7 Mercer street, N. Y. 937-9 An Elegant Stock of Estey & Green' MELODEONS AND HARMONIUMS UPWARDS OF TWENTY DIF'- ferent kinds, some of which are entirely differen from any other in the market. Also, Cottage Organs, a splendid instrument for churches. Every instru ment warranted. BRUCE Sc BISBEE, oc-ly N 0.1.8 North Seventh street, Philada. THOMPSON BLACK & SON'S Tea Warehouse & Family Grocery Store, Northwest corner of BROAD and CHESTNOWtreets, PHILADELPHIA. AIM maassao (Established 1836.) AN N EXTENSIVE ASSORTMENT OF CHOICE Black and Green Teas, and every-variety of Fine Groceries, suitable for family use. Goods delivered in any part of the city, or packed securely for the country.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers