gmxh (fell. TRY AGADT. BY ELIZA. COOK. Once Bruco of Scotland flung bin l flown In a lonely mood to think : ’Tis truo he was a monarch and wore a crown, But his heart was beginning to sink. For he had been trying to do a great deed, To make his people glad; TTq had tried and tried, hut couldn t succeed, And his heart was sore and sad. He flung himself down in sore despair, As grieved as man could be ; And, as hour after hour he pondered there, “ I must give up at last,” said he. Now just at that moment a spider dropped, ■With its silken cobweb clue ; And the king, in the midst of his thinking, stopped. To see what the spider would do. It presently began to climb Straight up with strong endeavor; But down it came, time after time, As near the ground as ever. But nothing discouraged, again it went, And traveled a half-yard higher; •Twas a delid&te thread it had to tread, And a road where its feet would tire. Again it fell, and swung below, But again it quickly mounted; Till—up and down, flow fast, now slow— Nine brave attempts ware counted.' “ Sure,” cried the king, the foolish thing ■Will strive no more to climb, When it toils so hard to reach and cling, And tumbles every time.” But steadily upward, inch by inch, Higher and higher it passed, Till a bold little run, at the very last pinch, Put it into its web at last. “Bravo! bravo!” the king cried out, “ All honor to those who try I The spider up there defied despair— He conquered; why shouldn’t I?" And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind, And as gossips tell the tale, He tried once more, as ho tried before, And that time he not fail. HOW GOD ANSWERED A LITTLE GIRL'S prayer: If you had looked into the old shed back of Frau Frantz’s cabin that lone some, rainy evening, I am sure you would have felt sorry for that poor little girl kneeling 1 there in the dirt in one corner. The tears were running down over her pale face and falling on her ragged, faded dress. Her little brown, grimy hands were clasped, and her lips moving in prayer: “ Timer Vater in dem himmel. JDein Name werde geheiii get.” As you may not know what this means, I will tell you. It was the same dear little prayer you say beside your bdd at night, with the hand of your precious mother resting so softly on vour head: “ Our Father which art in heaven.” I suppose all we want of God is in that prayer; but little Louisa thought she must tell the blessed Jesus all about her poor sick mother. So, after she had said “ Denn dein ist das Reich, wild die Kraft , und die Herrlich- Tceit , in ewigkeit — Amen,” she went on with her sad little story.- The father was dead, and they were away off here, so, far from all their friends, and her mother was so sick, she was afraid she wouldn’t get well, and she didn’t know what to do. Wouldn’t the good Saviour please to whisper something in her heart for.her to do? Then she kept very still far a minute or so—she did not even sob—but all she could think of was to ask her mother if she and tell Aunt Brigilta how sick she was. She didn’t know that this would do any good, for her mother had told her two or three times already that Aunt Brig ilta had to work so hard, and she was too old to’be up nights with anybody so sick. -She thought she’ would try, just once more, though. The sick mother had been in a high •fever all day. She would toss and turn on her rough straw bed, and sometimes ■ she would say a great deal, without knowing it, about her beautiful home and her husband, and two or three times she thought he was there, and started up and spoke, to him in a most pitiful way. . This would scare poor little Lou ,,isa so. She would stare, and shiver, and cry, and think “why don’t God send somebody to do something for my poor mother?” be sure, there were neighbors enough; but they were all very poor, and some of them quite wicked. They had suffered so much themselves, their hearts had grown hard and selfish; and they thought Frau Frantz was proud, and felt above them, with her praying i: and lady ways. She had to work as hard as any ; of them now, but they knew her-friends in Germany were rich, and she had been nicely brought up. The sick woman’s fever was gone now, and she lay very still, and was nearly as pale as if : she were dead., She con sented lo let Louisa, go'for the good'old woman, for she felt afraid she would not live till morning. Aunt Brigilta lived quite a long way off now., The people she lived with had made a good deal of money, and had moved away int* a pleasanter part of the city. They were not v.ery kind to her. She was getting so old, she couldn’t do much but take, care of the children. Oh, yes ! there was one thing she could do better than most people— she could pray, and trust in Jesus, and that was what made Frau Frantz love her. • Louisa ran as fast as her little bare feet could go, and she ; was back in a little while ? arid pretty soon Aunt Brigilta cajnertoo.• ... “ Why don’t yon have a doctor', -Frau Frantz?”- ahe said, the first thing. “Never mind the pay —I’ll see to that and before long the doctor came into the cabin. He looked at the sick woman’s tongue, felt her pulse, and shook his head. If she had been lying in a nicely furnished room in a splendid house, I think he would have taken some of her friends aside and told them very care fully that she couldn’t get well; but after men have pushed around the world awhile they get a foolish way of think ing that there is a difference between a person dying in an elegant room and one in a hare empty cabin. lam glad God and the angels do not see it so. “No use,” said the doctor, bluntly. “It’ll only be a waste of medicine to do anything for her.” • “ But, doctor,” said Aunt Brigilta, very earnestly, “can’t yon give her something to make her easy—she has so. much pain?” “No sort o’use, Isay.” He glanced round the.room, and measured the “use” by the prospect of pay. “ She’s got to go for it,” and out he went. ; Louisa knew What those dreadful words meant. She almost sunk upon the floor; but when she looked' at hei motherland thought how soon she would be gone, never to come back, she threw herself down close by her, and cried as if her heart would break. Aunt Brig ilta cried, too; and then she did the very best thing she could do—she knelt down and prayed. Some way, when she got up again, they all felt better, though the tears would come yet. Frau Frantz -took a drink of water, and though she could only say a word or two at a time, she said there was something she must tell Aunt Brigilta. They talked in German, but I’ll tell it to you in English. She believed the Lord Jesus had taken, away all her sins, pride and all. She felt ready to die now, hut she didn’t know what would become of her little girl. She began to feel pretty sure God would take care of her some way, though. “That he will,” said Aunt Brigilta. “ You know we left Germany because we were poor,” Frau Frantz went on, feebly. “ They said we could get rich lere, and live as grandly as any of onr family. I see now how foolish and wicked our pride was. I have a dear sister. I have heard she has come to America. She is rich and good, hut I don’t know where she is.. I have been graying God to send my little Louise to her.” Aunt Brigilta was going ,to ask the name of this sister, but the sick woman looked so white, and breathed so hard, she thought she was dying, and in her fright forgot it. She knew that for God’s children to die is no more than to throw off earthly chains and go up to heaven; but some way strange as it may seem, she felt a horror at the idea of Frau Frantz dying. Good, simple soul, she thought people ought always to have a minister to pray with them before they died. Though she knew Jesus was pres ent himself, ready to give her the crown of glory, she had had this notion so long she couldn’t get over it. Her minister ■ —the only one she knew in all the city —was away from home. What should she do ?. Oh, she just thought, the pro fessor, who had lately come to live in the grand house among the trees over on he avenue, must be a minister,'* for he read a sermon last Sunday in church. She would send Louise for him. Away the little girl ran through the dark, dirty; narrow alley, till she got out where the bright lamps shone, and then,, though she wasn’t afraid, she ran all the faster, She didn’t know what good the minister could do. If he arted like the doctor; he had better stay away. ' We will go before her to the professor’s house and look into the pleasant sittingf room. ■ ‘-Come, Theresa,” said the professor; in German, putting up the hook from which he had been reading aloud, “ can’t we have some music to-night ? I have had a hard day’s -study, and I don’t be lieve I ought to read any more.” He took up a flute, while she arose to go to the piano. She glanced in the di rection of a rosewood crib, where, among the soft, white pillows, nestled a sweet baby face, with a fat little fist beside iri “Oh, we shan’t wake her up !” said the professor, smiling. “We’ll begin softly*, and her dreams will be all the sweeter.’ ’ 1 The lady turned the leaves of the mu sic and then looked up at , her husband, with her mild blue eyes full of tears. “ I haven’t much heart-for music,” she said, “till we find where poor, dear Maria is. You’re sure she’s somewhere in the city, Gustav ?” “ Oh, yes; ana I’ll find her out before long. Bit come, dear* some music will cheer your heart. As you said last night, we will trust God to bring us to the sister:” " They had just begun playing when the door was pushed open. Their ser vants were all Anglo-American, as they wished to get the accent of our language. This one, Judy, was a specimen. “ An’t plaze yer honor,” pushing before her a ragged, tousle-headed little girl, whom we know at once to be Louisa Frantz, “ here’s a wee bit young one, an’ it’s not meself as can tell what she’s afther want ing, atwixt the scare of her and the bad lingo. Mayhap ye kin find 'out yir silves.” '. , “ Yat vill you haben, little fraulein!” asked the professor, pleasantly. She had not stumbled tlrroughone sen tence before he interrupted her, to say, in German: “Talk in your own language, child.” When she had told what she wanted, he asked her name. “ Louisa Frantz.” PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, JULY 7, 1»54. He looked quickly at his wife, and then, questions ; winding round and round, up, asked Louisa her father’s name. • \ up, up —Charley just round the turn, “ Heinrich Frantz.” I out of sight yet near— “ And your mother’s ?” said the lady,! Oh no ! Oh' terror! up, uyiu the dizzy her face growing very pale. I fair, above the tops of the highest trees, “Maria Frantz,” replied the little , there is a cry,"agaspin#faltering,fright girl, wondering why they should ask her ened cry—trying stifi to be brave, so many questions, when she was in such “Mamma, where are you? What a hurry to get back to her mother. / shall I do, mamma ? Everything goes But she .didn’t know what to make t round so up Mre.” - it when the beautiful lady, in her riu “You are only dizzy, my darling, sit dress sat down on the carpet before he, right down on the Stair; don’t step, don’t and began pushing the tangled hair ba( t step, sit right down.” So went up from her forehead, and looked closely in ) mother’s answer from white lips and. an her eyes, while the great tears rolldl agonized heart, yet true to a mother’s down over her sweet face. “It is, Gru -/ instinct, loud, clear, and cheerful as a tav, it is; I know it is Maria’s child.” ! bell. The next morning the people of ti alley were astonished .to see a splend carriage;stop before Frau Frantz’s lit] cabin. A fine lady and gentlemen, ly had been there all night itseemecj, ca out, got in, and drove away. ; / The professor had the best physicj in the city to visit the sick womiin,' as soon as she could be moved she, carried in a bed to their home. It| always her’s and Louisa’s home I that—yes, and Aunt Brigilta’s, too. I long as she lived she stayed, with 1 dear, good people, and helped take c? the children. Always when she ts about the night she thought Frau F was dying, she would say it was ju good G-od that led Louisa to her u. for she prayed the whole time .jtlif thing was gone ; arid he always ] make his poor, dear children happy; life, if they would give up thli’ and trust in him.— 3lethodist.} A WHITE MOUNTAIN AD YEN' Charley, our minister’s little once the hero of a very startling I will relate it for you, dear and I hope your fathers and me will be interested in my true stc is to teach you that your very i depend on your instant obedieni commands, When Charlie was five years and his brother John, two yea accompanied their father Snd n a journey to the White Mountai family did not travel by cars a but in the good old-fashioned v their own horse and carriage. We find our travellers on summer morning among the I; mountains. They had spent thl night at the Flume House, anq\ pursuing their journey to the Franconia Notch. As they rode quialy along, mamma consulted the guide look man’s White Mountain Grind/,) and they read and talked of the profi e (old man of the mountain) and the crmal mirror (lake) at his feet, of echo lakfc, too, and the many, many wonders andjbeauties of the Notch, which they had alm/st reached. “ Andhere,” said mamma,laughingly, as she turned the leaves of (the hook, “right here in these woods somewhere, it must mean, is another wondir—a won der of both nature and art—so it-seems.” “ Read it to us! read it to is !” cried the boys. So mamma read. “ Abouttwo and ahalf miles Southward of the Profile House is Walker’s Obser vatory. A tall pine, standing by the side of the l'oad, possessing jronderful capabilities as an . observatory, was brought to its fated end by trimming away the branches, and fastening an easy succession of winding stairs around, its trunk. As the tree is strong, aAd well secured by iron chains, we may j feel reasonably safe in ascending to the lpok out at the tbp. A really commanding view is gained from this half-natural and half artificial observatory. From nb other place in the lowland can you obtain so good a view of the valley between the mountain ranges. ’ ’ “ Oh, here it is!” said papa, “is it best to stop ?” “ Do! Oh, please do stop !” shouted the boys. ’> “Well we will,” said their father, “for the boys will never *forget it.” “Ho! Charley boy, was there ever such a famous tree to climb ?” Now, as I said, Charley is the hero of my story, so I must tell you more of him. First, since it has to do with my story,, he was a wonderful climber, andhadbeen, through all the eventful five years of his life; having, on hands and knees, mount ed to the third story of the great hall at grandfather’s, long before he could go alone. For all he was a great brave boy,, he was still “the baby;” soft, white, rosy, curly-headed, and as full of dimples, ana fond cuddling ways, as ever, was mother’s baby. 1 When, the previous evening, all radi ant from his excursion to the Flume, he ran, for the first time, into the parlor at the Flume House, .one of the group assembled thpre exclaimed: “Oh, you little curly-headed angel! where did you come from ?” So at once he Was their pet, and the pet of the house. Dark-eyed Johnny, who was mother’s companion and confi dant, ever devoted and. true, won golden opinions from all, but Charley was the pet ; father’s, mother’s, everybody’s pet. Soon our par ty came to the foot of the tree. “ Charley boy is such a brave climber,” said mamma, “ I suppose he will be at the top first of all.” • All cast a fond look on the boy, who, already in advance, turned his bright face all aglow with happy excitement upon them. Oh, had that look been the last 3 - So they wound their way slowly up, Cliar ley just in advance, (so they thought) talking of the scenery, and answering Johnny’s thoughtful and over-mature Up sped the father, crying out encour agingly : “ Good Charley, sit still, papa is coining.” What a sight met his view as he reached his boy, and, clasping him to his heart, shouted, back, “All safe?” , Yes, all safe sat the boy, right on the outer edge of a stair just where the bro ken railing gave no protection* more than a hundred feet from the rocks below* his cheeks aglow, his eyes agleam, his red lips parted in happy smiles, obediently waiting his father’s coming step; wonder ing the while what “ dizzy” was, to make the world go round arid round like a top. YeS, he wag safe, because unquestion ingly obedient he sat right down without taking another step, on the verge of the yawning death chasm, safe ! One step -—one effort to go down, to do anything, but just what he was bidden, and Oh! what tongue can tell the horror of the results. We will not imagine. That fearful death plunge, that crushed and lifeless mass, the agony of those hearts, smitten by a great life-sorrow. It is enough that God was merciful. How joyfully our travellers arose, when their, heads and steps were once more steady, and went up the few remain ing steps to the top, Charley first and highest of all, mounted on his father’s shoulders. How gratefully they went their way- Yet the mother’s heart was shrouded in a mist of penitential self reproach, and that night as she knelt by the couch of her darlings, nestling in their sweet sleep together, she prayed: “Yes, 0 my God, a mother may for get her hoy, but Thou, 0 blessed Jesus, never, never wilt Thou forget.”—Qon gregationalist., tarts and fas ijb se \!p of Lied intz the isle’s, a little would in this pride by, was adven- thildren, [hers too [y, which !fyes may &to their old, he 3 older, •ther on s. .The d stage, ly, with p bright ranconia A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. - previous Were now JiY THE KEV. JOHN TODD, D. D It would be a curious history could we tell when and how and where we first met this and that acquaintance; and especially, how very different he appear ed, if we had heard of him before, from what we expected! How seldom is he as noble, or as handsome, as we thought he would be! A few days since I was sitting in the store of a friend, engaged in conversa tion, when suddenly there leaped upon the counter a little bright-faced fellow whom I had never seen before. He came down with a ringing sort of laugh, and in his gladness actually bounded two or three leaps upon the counter. ’ Yery politely my friend introduced me to him, and I soon saw that he was .deaf and dumb. But his face was so bright and fresh, that he could hardly think of his situation. • “ This is Mr. Penny, sir, who has just arrived in town,” “Mr. Penny! Why I have seen many of that name. They are a mod est, quiet family, and great favorites with children.” “How is that?” “I suppose it is because they are so generous, and ar.e often giving candies and apples, and such things to children. But this one seems different from any I have ever met before. Let me see, He has a kind of double face, and -what is no less curious, be has words stamped on each ! On one face I see a beautiful shield, laid upon two arrows, and a vine hung over it, and the words ‘ In God we Ti-ust,’ ‘1864.’ On the other side, ‘ United States of Afneriea,’ with a vine and arrows, and in the centre, 4 2 cents.” This then is Mr. “ Twopenny/’ a new friend—the last child of the Mint, the new coin of my country ! How many hands will receive and pass this very penny! How many poor men and poor children will it feed! How many patches will it put on the poor man’s garment! I greet you, Mr. Twopenny, for the good you will do in this way ! But, my good friend, if you can help it) 'don’t help the drunkard to' injure hint self' and his family! But I hail you, goqd fellow, and welcome you above any coin I ever saw in my life ! You are a' little preacher! You are a catechism—; a kind of walking Bible—-to eyery man that will ever see you! You are the first coin of my country, that ever ac knowledged God ! You are a perpetwiil proclamation! You are a little cable to ■anchor a great nation to the throne of God! Oh, little coin! thy text , is very short, thy words are very few, but how many will them ! How many children in the fixture will read them, and learn that in i‘1864 ” our whole nation pro claimed to the, world the great truth that “ Ift God we trust,” And that short proclamation will do more to bring God’s blessing upon us, than armies arid navies, (to thy way little preacher! thou hast already cheered one heart, aiid created new hope. Go thy way! and shoHv thy fright face as often as thou canst;' The\poor widow and the orphan child will gain strength from thee, and the lofty man will learn that there is one loftier than himself, i Go thy way, Oh coin of my country! adding to pa triotism, adding to love of our own dear, dear country, and adding to our confi dence that the God in whom “ we trust” will never forsake us. Oh, herald of better things! We shall hereafter put thy text on all our coin; for surely we shall not write “ ho liness to the Lord” on our copper, and not on our silver and gold ! Surely we shall want to say to the bright silver and to the yellow gold, “ our confidence and trust are not in you, but in God we trust.” And this, the voice of the na tion, will teach the miser in his greed, tlfe politician in his schemes, and ruler in his power, that we hope only in the living God. And it may be found in the final history of the world, as God shall write it, that this one little act of our Government has become a blessing unspeakably great to all future genera tions. IMPEOVEMENT IN STUDENT LIFE IN ENGLAND. An article mßlaekwood for June, com menting on the Report of a Commission to examine into the condition of the leading classical schools of England, con tains the following: If there is one point on which the wit nesses are unanimous, it is on this ; that in the moral tone and habits of the young men who go up year after year from our public schools to tire university there is an improvement, in a very marked degree, within the.present gen eration. “ The senior head of a house,” says one Oxford witness, “ is reported to have, said that the improvement in the morals of the members of the university since the beginning of the century is not to'be called a reformation, but a revolu tion.” No doubt, the venerable author of this emphatic testimony has lived to see great and most desirable and need ful change in the habits, not only of un dergraduate life, but in the life of the senior common-room; but even much younger men trace thankfully the same improvement through later years, and readily admit that in this important re spect the present day is better than their own. In point of morality, economy, sobriety, good sense in their amusements, and the absence of riot and disorder, the modern undergraduate comes out in very favorable contrast to those who occupied his rooms and trod the same old High Street twenty and thirty years ago. It is somewhat curious to remark the'vari ous causes, proximate or remote, to which the successive witnesses, all men of abil ity and experience, are inclined to attri bute the change which they all gladly recognize. One—not himself a Rugby man—adds yet another testimony to Rugby’s great head-master: he dates the change distinctly “ from the time that Arnold's pupils began to come up to Ox ford.” Another believes that he noticed “a marked difference for the better,” arisingfrom “the fourteen-penny income tax” (which certainly has not had too many admirers,) “and the wholesome stimulus of the Crimean warseveral attribute much of the happy result to the introduction of athletic: sports ; others again to “ the multiplication of university examinations ;” “ the closer personalre lations that exist between tutor and pupils, both at school and college”— certainly one of the most encouraging features of modern education : and, what has perhaps really most of all to do with the change, though it is difficult to say whether as cause or as result,—the im proved state of public opinion. All agree each for their own school, with only such shades of difference that it would be invidious to distinguish them, that the tone of public feeling among the boys themselves is, on the whole, sound and healthy; that “ there would be a general reprobation of anything ungeri tlemanlike or dishonorable;” that drink ing and other gross vices, though not unknown, are confined to a small set, whose reputation amongst their school fellows is not good, and usually carried on with such' secrecy, that the danger of contagious example becomes comparative ly small; that swearing, lying, gambling, and bullying, were almost universally discountenanced by popular opinion. Even lying to a master—in which re spect school morality in past years was very conventional indeed—-has come to be considered, at least by the upper forms, in the light which it deserves. Smoking, which schoolboys have been apt to aspire to as a* manly virtue, has gone out of fashion at Eton, andis voted “very silly” at Rugby. Into the higher question of religious training—always a difficult and delicate subject to handle with school boys—we do not choose : to enter here, further than to say that the evidence elicited on this important' point fully justifies the words of the Report, that “ much of it is very satisfactory.” PLEDGE OP THE LADIES’ NATIONAL COVENANT. For three years or during the war, we pledge ourselves to each other and to the country to purchase no imported goods whei'e those of American manufac ture can be obtained. We furthermore pledge ourselves to purchase no article oF foreign importa tion contained in the following list : Dress Goods of Velvets, Silks, Grena dines, India Crepe, and Organdies. India Lace, and Broche Shawls. Furs, Wrought Laces and. Embroide ries. * Jewelry, Watches and Precious Stones Hair Ornaments,Fans, Artificial F-low ers and Feathers, Carpets, Furniture, bilks and Velvets, Painted China, Or molu, Bronze, Marble Ornaments, and Mirrors. Jutoyiisqmtnis. LADIES’ INSTITUTE, WILMINGTON. EL. UMBER LIMITED TO THIRTY. BUILDINGS new and conveniently arranged. Spacious grounds fc: exercise. Charges moderate. Next session will commence the first MONDAY it April. Forinformation, address Rev. THOMAS M. CANN, A. H„ Principal and Proprietor. Catalogues can be had at the Music Stores of J. g Gould and Lee A Walker, Chestnut street; or at the office of tiie “ American Presbyterian.” jal-iy MILTON CLASSICAL INSTITUTE, Milton, Northumberland County, Pa. SCHOOL YEAR—Opens on the FIRST MONDAY o I SEPTEMBER, and closes the lust of June. Pupils received at any time during the year. LOCATlON—Healthful: surrounded by some of the finest scenerv of the Susquehannah; accessible bv daily trains from New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, filming &c. COURSE OF STUDY—Is intended to prepare for business or college; special attention given to such ai desire to become Teachers. MUSlC—Special advantages are offered to those wh> wish to study Vocal or Instrumental Music. PHYSICAL CULTURE—Constant attention is iriveti to bodily exercise and the formation of such habits as will secure and preserve good health. BOARDING—A few pupils will be received into the family with one of the Principals; others will be directed to private families where pupils are subject to the supervision of their teachers. y DISCIPLINE—Parents who wish to find, under the name of boarding-school, a house of refuge for wilfal! and vicious children, need not apply, as idle, immoral or wayward pupils will not be retained in the institution. Male and Female Departments are connected in the institution. For further information, apply to Rev. W. T. WYLIE or E. H. BANCROFT, A. M., Principals, for catalogues; also to the editor of this paper. REFERENCES—The patrons of the school: Rev. T. W. Wylie. D. D., Philadelphia; Rev. J. B. Dales. D D., “ George H. Stuart, Es-q., “ Thomas Wallace, Jr., * s S. T. Bodine, Esq,, “ Rev. J.N. McLeod, D.D^N.Y.; Rev. S. L. Fenny, ” sm®B& wm wsri® mmm. MISS KLIZA W. SMITH, 1210 SPRUCE STREET. For terms see circulars. PHILADELPHIA COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE, FOR YOUNG LADIES, 1530 ARCH STREET, PHILADELPHIA. T)EV. CHARLES A SMITH, D. D-, E. CLARENCE JtuSMITH, A. M., Principals. Ninth year. Three Departments: Primary, Academic and Collegiate. Full college course in classics, mathe matics, higher English, and natural science, for those who graduate. Modern languages, music, painting and elocution, by the best masters. For circulars, apply.at the Institute. or address Box 2611, P. 0-, Philadelphia, Pa. ap2l SELECT CLASSICAL AND ENGLISH SCHOOL NO. 1230 LOCUST STREET, PHILADA., B. KENDALL, A. M., Principal. The school tear is divided into two sessions of five inoaths each, commencing September and February. Pupils are carefully prepared for any class in college or for mercantile life. Thoroughness in the rudiments is insisted upon as indispensable to the successful prosecution,of classical and higher English studies. Special attention is also given to the Modem Lan guages. 1 . A fine play-ground on the prefhises gives unusual value and attractiveness to the location of the school. • All other desirable.information will be furnished to those interested on application to the Principal. MS WSSIT (BSEUSVan AOAD3EBH, MILITARY INSTITUTE* AT WEST CHESTER, PENNSYLVANIA WILLIAM F. WYEES, A. M., Principal. The school will remain in session until the 15th of June next. Number of instructors 10; and the number of students 152. Many applications for admission had to be refused lost fall for want of suitable accommodations. This difficulty has been removed. MILITARY department. Mqjor G. Eckendorff, Instructor. Captain J. F DeMaziere, Superintendent. For circulars, terms, &c-> apply to WILLIAM F. WYJSBB, A. Principal, jal4 West Chester, Pa., THE.UNDERSIGNED. Would respect fully inform the public in general t-’ : - he is prepared to furnish the RICHARDSON • AIR-TIGHT, CIRCULAR ENDS CASKET, without joints, which, in our hunds. we guarantee t-' disinter bodies of soldiers on the battle-field, and bring them to their relatives or friend", free of oaor, (it matters not how they have been buried)- or no charge for the C-skeLat one third less than we furnish the metallic cas^; no advance on the latter. Likewise, we furnish Underuktrs, as well as priysp .families with and Cases of every description term* r rea-onable . ; EMBALMING Hone by Messrs. Brown & Co-id R perfect manner. **r no charge, ai the Branch Office.‘*2* South ELEVENTH Street. JOHN GOOD, Undertaker. No. 911 SPItTOE Street, and No. 211 South ELEVEN Til Street. PHILADELPHIA
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