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
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adven-
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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