41 , 44;1' ,1 11 . 1 il , l l . , •,y , OLARIBEL'S PRAYERS ALI LINDE PALIHM: The dsywith cold, gray fe'. clung shivering to , t,bo W 1111.: o'er the valley still night's rain fringed curtains fell; Bet waking, Blue Eyes smiled. "Tis Aver as God wills; icnownth best, and be i - ., rain or Aim., 'tis Praise God cried always little Claritel Then sank she on her knee:, with eager, lifted hands Her rosy lips made haste some dear request to tell— - " Oh. Father! smile, and save this fairest of all lands, And make her free, whatever hearts rebel. Amen! Praise God I" cried little Claribel. And, Father," still arose another pleading prayer,. -(nt save my brother, in the rain of shot and shell, 11., , A rut the death-bolt, with its horrid, stream ing hair, Lush light from those sweet eyes I love so well. Amen ± Praise God I" wept little Olaribel. " But, Father, grant that when the glorious light is done, And up the crimson sky the shouts of free men swell, Grout that there be no nobler victor 'neath the sun Than be whoso golden hair I love so well. , Amen C Praise God 1" cried little Claribel. When gray and dreary day shook hands with grayer night, The heavy air was thrilled with clangor of a bell. " Oh, shout!" the herald cried, his worn eyes brimmed with light; " 'Cis victory I Oh, what glor tell !" " Praise God ! He heard my prayer," cried Olaribel. I.Vtt pray you soldier, was my brother in the fight, And in the fiery rain? Oh ! fought he brave and well'?" "Dcar child," the herald cried, " there was ao.hraver sight Than ,his young form, so grand 'mid shot and shell." " Praise God !" eried tremblir o , little Clari-. he]. " A itti rides ho now with victor's plumes of red, While:trumpets' golden throats his coming steps foretell'?" The herald dropped a tear. " Dear child," he Softly, said, Tby 'brother ever more with conquerors shall dwell." " Praise lirOd lie heard my prayer," cried Olaribol. " With victors wearing crowns, and Waring palms," be said. A show of sudden fear upon the rose lips fell. "Oh t sweetest herald, say my brother lives," she plead. " Dear child, ho walks with angels, who strength excel, Praise God, who gave this glory, Claribel." The cold, gray day died sobbing on the weary • hills, • While bitter mourning on the night wind rose and fell. Oh, child," tho herald wept, dear Lord wills: He knoweth :best, and, be it life or death, 'tis " Amen ! Praise God 1" sobbed little Olari bel. THE OIiA.STENING ROD Thy way is in the see, and Thy path in the greet, wateri, and Thy foositeps ere not, known."—Ps.lxxvii. 19. I asked for grace to lift me high Lbove. the world's depressing. cares ; God sent me sorrows ; with a sigh I said, Ile has not heard my prayers I ask'd for llght, that, I might'see My path along life's thorny road : But clouds and darkness shadow'd me, When I oxpeeted light from God. asted for•peacd, that T might rest, To think my sacred duties o'er ; When lo! such horrors my breast As Z had never felt before. And oh, 2 cried, can this be prayer, Whose plaints the steadfast mountains move; Can this be heaven's prevailing care,— • And, 0 my God, is this thy love? But soon I found that sorrow, worn As Duty's garment, strength supplies ; And out of darkness, meekly borne, Unto the righteous light doth rise. And EMI I found that fears, which stirred My startled soul God's will to do, On 1113 more real peaoo confered Than in life's calm I. ev , r knew. Then, Lord, in Tby mysterious ways, Lead my dependent spirit on ; And whonsoe'er it kneels and prays, Let, it but say,—" Thy will be done." Let its one thought, one hope, one prayer, Thine image seek—Thy glory see; Lot every other g:rief and care, Ile left confidingly to Thee J. S. B. MONSELL THE DUTY THAT LIES NEAREST. Alice Sprague sat in the shadow of the crimson curtains, that swept from ceiling to floor in her, father's library., The light was gradually fading, and she had left her seat by the table to gather herself up into the great bay window, so that she might not relinquish her book until it • was. absolutely impossible to see. Her face was flushed with its eager interest, her lips were slightly parted, and her bosom heaved with emotion, for she was reading of the Covenanters of Scotland, of their strug gles and sufferings, and the martyr page had awakened the enthusiastic girl to a life-like realization of the old heroic days: Straining her eyes over the page, she did, not hear a light foot on the carpet, and was not even roused when a sweet voice called her. name. "Alice ! Alice !" At last the new comer came gently up and drtw the book away from the reader's reluctant hands. • cq;olt ! Miss Agnes, please don't; please let me keep it. It isn't dark yet deariViiss A . •110S. don't take it away ; light the gas, — pled Miss Agnes smiled, but nevertheless drew the book quite away and laid it on the table Then seating herself by Alice, she tenderly put her arm around her waist and drew her head down so that it rested on her shoulder. What have you been reading about, darling ?" " Oh, about Margaret Wilson, the fair young girl who was tied to a stake on the sands, in a place where the sea came in, and left - there for the waves to creep slowly up, with their cruel, cold fingers, to kill her by degree., and, Miss Agnes, she could have had her life if she would have denied her religion, but she was faithful unto death.' Miss Agnes, it was worth while to be a Christian in those days—the days, of the brave old martyrs. What .hum drum times these are !" " You forget, dear, how many brave, heroic souls have fled on the battle-field within the last few days," said Miss Agnes. • " Oh, I don't mean that—l know these are grand days for men, but what can a little school-girl do ? I can't even make a sacrifice, fOr I have no friends, that is, no very near relatives in the army. No, I must be content to plod on, in the same old way, to the very end of the chapter." , "My dear," said Miss Agnes, " yOu remember the day that we went to look for those flowers in the Red Woods. We hunted far and near for ane variety, tired ourselves with ranging over the hills and climbing the steep mountain sides, and little Linda lost her shoes in the marsh, and when we came back, worn out with our efforts, we found a cluster of the very flowers, -fair and White and .fragrant, nestling under a broad leaf, in the very spot we started from. So it is with you. Alice, lam afraid that in the effort after something great and glorious to do or achieve, you often forget the good and sweet duties that are lying dose at your feet." "Miss Agnes," called Stella from the hall, " here's a poor little girl wants to sec you !" As Miss Agnes left the room, Alice remained. a little while in the same position, thinking of what her friend had said, but the result of her thoughts was not very satisfactory. They resolved thenaselveS into some thing like this: "It's all very well for Miss Agnes Cameron to talk, and very easy for her to do good and to -be good. But it's very different with Alice Sprague. do as the Heigho ! I'd like to be a heroine." Alice, Stella and Linda Sprague were almost constantly under the care of Miss Cameron, their governess. Their mother was a confirmed invalid, and spent her days in alternating from her, sofa to her easy chair, and from thence to bed. She was seldom able to leave her chamber, and could not devote to her little girls that maternal care and culture that they needed. Mr. Sprague was a merchant in large and prosperous business; he went early to his counting, room, and came from thence with 4 preoccupied face and a mind full of dare., So that his children were neatly dressed and lady-like in their manners, and did not worry him with too much noise, he took but little notice of them. " Alice," said little Linda, when tea was over, "I wish .yOu'd help me learn my hymn.. It's so hard, and my Sab.: bath school teacher don't like -me to miss it." " Oh, run away, Linda ; I'm busy. Miss Agues is with Stella, teaching her her's, and you go to her." - "But, Alice," pleaded Linda, "I'd rather have you." "I tell you I'm engaged just now, Don't tease.me, Linda." A bell rang from up stairs, and pre sently a servant came in, saying : " Miss Alice, your mamma wants you. !" Rather slowly Alice put down her work, and rose to leave the parlor. As she passed Miss Agnes, a slip of paper was put into her hand. On it she read these words, pencilled there in haste by her teacher : "'The duty that lies nearest.' Alice, did you not forget it just now ?" She knew what Miss Agnes meant, and blushed as she thought that her teacher had seen her impatient conduct towards Linda. With a quieter step than usual, she entered her mother's Mrs. Sprague was lying on the sofa looking over some old letters. Her pale face was almost as white as the. snowy pillow it pressed, and her thin hands showed the wandering blue veins very plainly. Alice felt a sadness at PHILADELPHIA., THURSDAY, JUNE 23,. 1864. he“rt a,s she thought of the many hours her poor mother spent there in that one room, and of how little she did to lighten them. Bye and bye perhaps she would have no mother. It flashed on her as she came in that her mother was paler and thinner and weaker lately than she used to be. Mother," she said, "Kate said you wanted me." " Yes, daughter, I was looking over these letters, and I want to give some of them in your change, and some of them I wish you to burn. This package is for you to read bye and bye. They are journals of a happy girlhood, but, Alice, I don't wan't you to imitate all my youthful life, for often I was a dreamer, not a doer. My child, I want you to learn to do whatever your hand finds to do, with your might. - Life is real—life is earnest., And the grave is not its goal, Dust thou art, .to dust returnest, Was not. spoken of the soul." " Mother,. has Miss Agnes been talk ing to you about me ?" said Alice. : " No, my love. Why ?" " Because she .says that dreaufing is my besetting sin, and was talking to me of that very thing." Here is a ring, Alice, made of my sister's hair ; put it on your finger, dear. You were named for her, Alice Fanning. It is a record to me of my own early waywardness, for, my darling, while I was looking for some far away great deed to do, poor Alice was slowly dying beside me, and I never 'kilo* it, till, when too late, wakened to find that I had:no sister." Alice put the ring of golden hair on her finger. A big tear fell on it, a pledge that she would strive to be more thoughtful hereafter; When her mo ther had finished and Rat ba ,. hway, sue went, down again to the library, and though the tempting book was full in view she passed it by saying : " Come, Linda, I'll help you with your hymn now." M. E. M. Mom a Emig visiting Thdladelphia;- du ring the Winter of 1863, to her young friend in, the Cou4try. DEAR EDITH :—My sincere thanks for that timely letter. I feel that my let ters are appreciated, whek I receive two or three in exchange for one. - I received an invitation -to a wedding, a day or two, before I sent my last letter, and do not know that I mentioned it. Very soon after Uncle James came to this city to reside, Mrs. D— called on Aunt Helen, and by her kind attention made. Aunt feel almost at -home in a strange city. Our invitation was to the wedding of her eldest daughter. I felt some interest in the fact as it was my first invitation to a weddingiu this city. You will not expect details regarding the supper, wines, &c. ; let me include all by saying that ample -means and good taste did all that could be done to make the event one to be remembered. In passing down from - the ladies' rooms, 'I observed two large rooms that were thrown open for gentlemen, judging from the hats and coats that partly filled one. The other room was brilliantly lighted, and -well furnished with arm chairs, just the place to have a pleasant chat with a friend. Some one closed the door just as I was taking a survey ;--but but not before I had noticed a variety -of drinking glasses arranged on the tables. The wedding party was a large one and Uncle James introduced one or two gen tlemen to me, whom he knew well. Mrs. D— also breught one up and presenteil him as if he was really valuable. I re-, .gret to say. that I could not respond to the. imperial style in which he addressed your friend. I tried after a while to rouse him by a touch of sarcasm, but the arrows fell harmlessly--; self conceit ren dered him 'invulnerable. 'Finally, I re sorted to stratagem to free myselffrom 40.01.„ tiresome company. Seeing Aunt Relen at the other end of the room, I asked Mr. T— to cross the room with me, and on my way contrived to lose him fora minute, when, much to my relief he met with a young lady who seemed pleased,to see him. In a few minutes he came to excuse himself, when -I was pir.zled how to use words that would not betray my gratitude for the burden my successor had assumed. Eat I was gratified to meet a - gentleman of a differ ent class with whom I was much pleased. Mr. conversed well, and, we -had a literary talk that I really enjoyed. I found that Mr. K— knew Mr. well, and by one or two judicious queries. I elicited information that confirmed me in my high estimation of Mr. B—'s character. I will mention a fact here that sur prised me, and proves that -I am not perfectly conversant in the customs of large cities. During the evening some of the gentlemen disappeared for a short time. Ido not know that I should have noticed their absence,_ if my suspicions had not been aroused. Most of them were personally strangers to me, and it was only by observing them in conver sation with young ladies whom I knew that I remembe'red them. It was late when these young gentlemen returned LETTERS. NO. VIII to the company with flushed faces and their breath giving sad evidence against them. Certainly they did not leave the home to procure strong drink, and then returr, to the company of ladies. When I receive an explanation of their con duct you shall hear it. We have had some damp and, rainy days lately, which fact accounts for my unusual mode of spending time, namely, reading; that is, unusual since I came to this city.' Aunt Helen and I were in the library during one of these evenings, both occupied with an interesting book, when, to my surprise, the waiter ushered in Mr. B—. Perhaps my countenance said more than I intended, as. Mr. B—, after greeting us, excused himself for thwarting my plans in suck an uncere monious manner. But I was satisfied with the change, as, since I was at Miss ll—'s wedding, annoying questions have been recurring, thereby disturbing my thoughts. Mr. B— regretted that he had not been able to attend, having had a previous engagement, and then made some. inquiries as to the number of persons and the opinions I formed of weddings in Philadelphia. I made all the favorable comments that I could, and then mentioned that one fact threw a shadow around that occasion for me. I had observed more than once while attending parties in this city, a marked change in the deportment of some of the young gentlemen as the evening advanced, and had been surprised at the fact„ • But now the mystery was in a measure solved, as there were some of the gentlemen at the wedding party of which we were speaking Whose flushed faces and excited manner gave sad evi dence against them. And in my judg ment they were unfitted for the society of ladies. Could it be that these young men left the .house to obtain stimulants ? Mr., B— replied promptly: `.` Miss Evans, you have touched upon a pain ful subject; one that is tacitly avoided by most persons, yet one that . must be brought into the light and frooly spoken of, if we would counteract its evil regulEs. The young men; to whom you refer did not leave the house to obtain the liquors they preferred ; they merely went to the room set - apart for this pur pose. A custom that has been some time in maturing, has snow reached a point - that demands prompt action. The whole system of our large social gather ings is wrong, unmistakably so. This one is, the most repulsive, and yet is. one of the established usages of , the present day. When I say this, Miss Evans, I do not mean that such, a resort is always found in the arrangements for a large party, as there arc a few whose strict principles on the subject of tem perance would not permit such an abuse Of . hospitality. And these families are consequently ,stiginatized as mean and. narrow in their views, by the young men who, with the previous knowledge of the fact, accept. their invitations." But I have written a long letter, and must. close with my thanks for your last journal of home incidents. Truly yours,- 'HELEN'. A NOBLE BUSINESS MAN. A friend relates for the boys and girls of the American Agrieulturie, the fol lowing incident of a gentleman well known in the *United States, for his useful tal ents and his large business operations, _hut whose name we arc not permitted to give. During the present war he made a contract with a mechanic to supply him' with a large 'quantity of tin cans. 'Not' long after this tin rose so much that the. contractor must lose money by comple-, ting the work at the price agreed upon. However, he said nothing, but Went on delivering the cans. *When the first bill for, part of the cans was received, the employer - called upon him, and said, "I understand you are losing money on, thisjob." " Yes," replied the contractor,; "but I can stand it ; a contract is'a con-. tract you know." " How much will you: lose asked the gentleman. " Oh, no Matter," 'Was the reply, "I don't coin plain, and you ought not to." "But I insist upon knowing." Well, since you desire it, I shall lose so much per hula dred," naming the amount. "Well, sir," said the noble-hearted man, "you must not lose this, it would not be right, Ishall add the amount to your bill, and as the Klee of material may stilt rise,lwill ad vance you the money for the whole of the contract, which no doubt you can now use to advantage." The difference thus paid, to which the contractor . laid no claim, amounted to five hundred dollars. That was something more than business' honesty, it was Christian prin ciple carried out in business. Theworld needs just such *examples to convince it . of the truth of religion. THE ADVANTAGES OF EIOI I ITRES. Airoom with pictures, and a room without pictures, differ about as much as a room with windows and a room without windows. Nothing is more melancholy, particularly to a person who has to pass much time in his room, than bleak walls and nothing on them, forr - pictutes are loop-holes of escape for the soul, leading to other scenes and spheres. It is such an inexpressible re lief to a person engaged in writing or even,reading, on looking up, not to have his line of vision cut off by an odious white wall, but to find his soul escaping, as it were, through the frame of an ex quisite picture, to other beautiful, and perhaps heavenly scenes, where fancy for a moment may revel, refreshed and delighted. EXTRAVAGANOE.OF 01711 PEOPLE. The following is from an able exhibi tion of the effect of the war upon the course of business. and the scale of living, especially, in New York city, in the July number of liqrper's Monthly : The old proverb,says " That which comes easy goes easy." The suddenly enriched -contractors, speculators and stockjobbers illustrate its truth. They are spending money with a profusion never before witnessed in our country,. at no time remarkable for its frugality. . Our great houses are not big enough for them; they pull them down and }mild greater. They, like the proud aced wanton Caligula, construct stables. of marble at a bulous cost, in which their horses are- stabled (some, doubtless, to be fed on gilded oats), with a luxury never hitherto indulged in by the• most. opulent of our fell Ow-citizens. Even the - manure neaps lie upon more re splendeat floors than are swept. by the ailkeu trains of oar proudest, flames. So magnificent are these structares that their proprietors have not hesitated to assemble within them " the best society" they could command of fine:gentlemen and finer ladies, to hold a carnival ofl pleasure. The playing of Comedies, it is said, was a part of the programme,.as if the presence of the beau. monde, seek- 1 ing pleasure in a stable, was not in itseli a sufficiently sorry farce. What was acted we know not; lit we can testify that " High Life Below Stairs" was the chief performanoe. The very horses must have neighed in applause of the appropriateness of . the piece, and life like action of the players. A horse laugh was surely the well-merited re ward. These Sybarites of" shoddy" buy finer furniture than was ever bought before, and dress -in costlier clothe and silks than have been hitherto imported. No foreign luxury, even 'at the present enormous prices, is too dear for their exorbitant desires and swollen pockets. The importatieus bt the country have arisen to the large amount of thirty mill;e'ens of dollars a month, chiefly to Satisfy the increased appetite for luxu rious expense. The ordinary sources of expenditure seem to have been exhausted, and these ingenious prodie b als have invented new ones. The men button their waistcoats with diationds of the first water, and the women powder their hair with gold and silver dust.* As excess, overflowing the natural channels of enjoyment; is always sure ~to take an irregular and perverted• course, for the indulgence of its uncheck ed vagaries, it is not, anrprising to find the boundless extravagance of the times . assuming forms at variance with pro priety and taste:- Paris,-provoked to excessive folly and wild. extravagance uy ce"ii io enefi7ai 411 z the people by debauchery that they may become too languid for resistance to tyranny, has, among other forms of dis .sipation, invented a grotesque kind of) fancy ball. In this the guests represent things instead of persons. For example, one presents herself as a kitchen, with her person hung all over with pots and kettles, wearing a saucepan for a hel met, like Sancho Panza, brandishing a shovel and tongs, and playing the part of a kitchen wench with probably a dish clout hanging' , to her tail. Another of a more sentimental turn is a flower gar den, festooned with roses-and bearing a spade and rake. A third is a pack of playing-cards, bedizened. all over with clubs, diamonds, and hearts and so on with every possible transformation of the human spirituarbeing (supposed to' be rational) into the Senleless; material thine? This absurdity has been imported by' our wealthy New Yorkers, together with other Parisian extravagances. Last winter, during which high carnival was held by oar nouveaux riches, a dame whoi has traveled, and bad the honor of faint ing in the arms, it is:said, of Imperial : Majesty, in the course of' which embrace she probably imbibed-her high apprecia tion of imperial folly,. got up one of those grotesque fancy balls. She her-, self,a,ppeared on the occasion as music, and bore upon her head. an illuminated lyre supplied with genuine gas, from a:. reservoir and fixtures concealed,some- • where -under her clothes. "We don't feel this war,". they say. We believe them. „Nothing, we fear, while they are stupefying themselves in this whirl of absurd folly would bring them to their senses short of a shower of Greek fire. If this extravagance and wantonness were confined to the fools of fortune we might leave them to the exhaustion that must come from this waste of means and perversion of the faculties; of mind and body. Their . ruin would be hardly felt or regretted. But, unfortunately, our people are so imitative that when one simpleton, provided he be rich, leads the way, all follow. - Every man and woman thinks he must do as his wealthy neighbor does. The consequence is already shown in the general prevalence of extravagance and dissipation. The shops of the dry.goods man, the jeweler, the dealer in carpets - and cabinet-ware, and the gilded establishments of the restaurateur were Dever so crowded. The tradesman hardly shows any but - his most, expensive wares, which his greedy customer snatches up without solicitation. Thus camel's-hair shawls, at fifteen hundred dollars or more, go off briskly at that prim; rivers of dia-, mends (riviere de diamants) flow uncheck ed by any regard for cost. Aubusson and tapestry carpets of fabulous - expense are bought unhesitatingly and reckless. ly trod upon, and dinners are oaten and wine drunk at Delmonico's and the Maison Doree at a price per bead, in a single sitting, which would support a soldier and his family for a good portion of the year. Who knows but that our wives and daughters may all take to powdering their hair with gold and ail- *There are three, kinds of resplendent powder need by our fashionable women! the gold and silver. wh oh coat fifteen dollars a head, as I the di moonl, which at present is only of glass, and costa much Ws. ver dust at fifteen dollars per head / or transforming themselves into gas fix tures ? What is to hinder our young dandies of the counting-house and shop —for haven't they an old fool of the Stock Exchange to show them the• ex aznple—from buttoning their waistcoats with diamonds? ADVICE TG HOUSEKEEPEIM If you are subject to uninvited,compa ny, and your means do not allow you-to set before your guests as good:a table . as they keep at home, do not distress your self or them:with apologies. If they are real friends, they will cheerfully sit down with you to-such a table as:is- appropri ate to your circumstances„ and would be uncomfortable by an effort; n your part to provide a better one than :you can afford. if your resourcesare ample, live in such. a way th. 9 t an unexpected visitor shall eaeasion no - difference. The less alteraWm made in family arrangements on account of visitors, the happier for them. as well as you.. - Never treat the subject of having com pany as if it were a. great affair. Your doing this will excite your domestics,. and lead them to imagine the additionto their usual works much greater th'au it is; your own cares, too, will he greatly magnified. A calui and quiet way of meeting all sorts of domestic vicissitudes, and of doing the work of each day, belt more or loss, equalizes the pressure of care and prevents it, becoming oppressive. Be composed when accidents happen to your furniture. The most careful hand is sometimes unsteady. Angry words will not mend broken glass, or china, but they will teach your domestics to conceal such occurrences from you, and the only explanation given you will be that they came apart. Encourage every one whom you employ to come_ immedi ately and tell you, when they have been so unfortunate as to break ,or injure anything 'belonging to you. The cases are very rare; in which it is best to de duct the value from their wages.' In the best regulated families there will be some laborious,- perplexing days. Adverse and inconvenient circumstances will cluster together. At those times guard against two things—discourage ment and irritability. If others look on the dark side, find something cheering to say ; if they fret, sympathize in their share of the trial, while ydu set them the example of bearing your part in it well. IDLE GIRLS, The number of idle, useless girls in all of our large cities seems to be steaiily in ! creasing. They lounge or sleep through morniugs, parade the streets during f the afternoons, and assexuble in frivolous companies of their own and the other sex to pass away their evenings. What a store of unhappiness for themselves and others are they laying up for the coming time, when real duties and high respon sibilities shall be thoughtlessly assumed ! They are skilled in no domestic duty— nay, they despise them ; have no habits of industry, nor taste .for the useful. What will they be as wives and mothers ? Alas, fof the husbands and children, and alas for themselves ! Who can wonder if domestic unhappiness or domestic ruin follow ? It is one of the world's oldest maxims, that idleness is the nursing mother of all evil and wretchedness. How sadly strange is it that so many parents— mothers especially—forget 'this, and bring up their children in dainty idleness. They are but sowing the wind to reap the whirlwind. ELEVATION or THE WORKING CLASSES " I have no sympathy whatever with those who would grudge our workmen and.'our common people, the very highest acquisition which their taste, or their time, or their inclinations, would lead them to realize ; for, next to the salva tion of their souls' ' I certainly say that the object of my fondest aspirations is the moral and intellectual, and, as a sure consequence of this the economical, ad vancement of the working classes—the one object which, of others in the wide range of political speculation, is the one which should. be the dearest to the heart of every philanthropist and. every true patriot.''— Chalmers. COAL ! COAL ! If you want the best Lehigh Coal in the market, want it clean and pure, and want all you buy, send your orders to CASSEL.I3ERRY & DAVIS, Franklin Coal Yard, No. 1429 AMERICAN street, near the North Pennsylvania Passenger Depot, For they are determined to satisfy, if possible, all who patronize them, and do obligate themselves to pity to the Christian Commission 15 cents per ton for every ton of coal they sell for family use, until the war climes. We refer all to Geo. H. Stuart, C. C. C. 942-946 itA CADWINS w No. 736 Market Street, S. E. corner of Eighth, PHILADELPHIA, Manufacturers and Dealers in BOOTS., SHOES, TRUNKS, CARPET BAGS AND VALISES 02 every variety and style. lelny LW. P. CLARK, 1626 Market Street, Phila,delphis B OOTS AND SHOES OF MY . OWN MANUFACTURI Ladies', Misses', Ciiildren's, Men's and Boys' Boots an Shoes of every variety, at moderate pricea 1626 MARKET STREET 11017,SEKEEPERS, AND THOSE COMMENCING Ho usEKEEPINCh Cl may find a full assortment of all useful articles for Housekeepers' use, at the House Furnishing Store, Islo-220 and 222 DOOR street. The latest and best styles of Catlery,Plated Ware, Japanned Ware, Block Tin and Britannia Ware Hollow Ware, etc. Also, Settees, Ironing Tables, Kitchen. Tables, Meat Safes, Refrigerators and Wooden Ware generally, with all the new inventions for housekeepers' use. Moderate prices, and all goods warranted. E.S. FARSON & CO., Nos. 220 and i2s Dock Areal. mb274ca mr=
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers