HEY’S .te» *yrup' ÜBLIC. )f oyer TEN years Iwcnbor la prcimr/il 9 ** v° given in -' -'i ‘■‘lily, nml,effectually* "i.*e—unlike, intLl’ ,e l“ ,ac alinpe or form; -*" harmleaa ia itTL 1 ?* take it. 1 ■ »tle purgaflvus <»„.’• O4O iired, m nine 0 ”Onu« ilion ol'th« ,)n So3 . out of hiMliood; and T “ or " i“^ or co, ivui2m^^ r °* r r«. HK BsnK - Y Mi) JF« 1 **:*<>»•< au«a7n?i I ENT IN COOK- fD CAS AND SATBfg offering to the publfs !CONSUMING ■which is dkitinsd te s* 3 FUEL ly, quickly tad Ksm.l— R-w arises from Mb consumed ereU caneT J oko as that until*. .... ulso consumed inside of >nger of dues or cM.T r the morhir loOsßuid by ts are invited to «at| at dnsonic Temple, andu. >fN SHOEMAKER/ '-■■it fur Blair Cbuniw, irlor Cricking unrite’g [Aug. 12.1856/* ’’ gazette ae and Criminal* U W circulated thro ugh oat Croat Trials, Criminal the some, together with not to be found in any : fu r six mouth*, le ouhl write their nam** re they reside nUl.i.v, iI ATSELL i ’oi k Police Gazette' -Vein Tiirk Oily. VE, FORMA* icdcr for,tVashing, ow K Castile Soop,p«lm ■ml fur sale at A. ROUSH'S. vr H. TUCfi’S, ulderSeamFine Shirt* ER’S TTERS. criod, every mem* subject to diseeep y functions; and the exereiiM may be able ab : to secuyo permanent - pliah this desired ursuc is certain!/ natural state of vital strength and - Hostetler bas in* eparation bearing medicine, but one s, giving satUfae it. The Bitten stomach, bowels, o a healthy and y the simple pro enable the s/s* Indigestion, N«l -tite, or any Billon* morbid inaction rodueing-CranijM, lorbus, &0., th«M , so generally oon causod principally it, "will bo speedily this preparation, is probably mpxt forms, than .any deli may alwaya a of the digeativ* ut fail by naing HITTERS, a* per this disease every Levs of sonic kind; , i;own to be infid* ■ Bitters, as aprt* j liener of the IJI - !j .hem all there.i* 3 It Ly people than | preparation etna*' sjjcrimenta vrtuob luc of this great jlical science. f-ing and provok* lentless grasp on m to a mere sha lering him phy* can be driven iIOSTETTBB’S ■tlicr, none of th# contracted, even Bitters are tise* >y neither create ,’und render wf or interruption note sound^ sleep omplaint Is rfi* cut with the pro* manent cure. I'cars, wliO at* constitution a® 4 iuvaluablo **• vigor, and M® 4 ted. And** ititri-s ar.e mdi»- mother’B OOttT; demands of t** gib must yield, tonic, such •• needed to imp®** : to tbe eyatoa try this remedy before so doxDft who, if .*•5 the Bittera, inU ies of -preaknoas iolic against unterfoits, but a** tosiacb Birr**** o woyda own on the Bid* tho metallic **f [at our autograph tOSTBT®®®* nd sold W •" ilers generally . Canada, Bo«» pU.h, XUoon*;®^ , uoumptsgMT [Aug 25, 18W'*F JlttooUfl tribune McORUM & BERN, VOL. 5. tee ALTOONA TKIEONE. McOBOM * DBBN, Bofclitbm TMHjJPrpjwfetow. P«r annum, (p»y*Ma Inrurinblyta ndwac®,) sl^o iiinppert dincoutiiinea, of s Uio time F* 1 * liriaertkmV 2 do. 3 do. MdißMorlew. ir . *4««}i , $ 60 Ku«e,(B,Un«»,) v.M ■■.-■•M-- *1 00 £*** (16 “ ) 100 ' 160 2 00 JJL “ (W “ ) • 160 ' 2 00 . 2 80 Orer three weekMnd lean th»ottoeeinonthß,26centB per . \ ' ” 3 month#, 0 months. 1 year. ji, line* w !«*». 1 ; S 1 60 ;$ aoo , 6 00 OiiMuare, ■ ! 2'60 ■ .• ,4 00 7 00 Syo“ 4 00 6 00 ,10 00 fhrM , 16.00 8 00 1200 r uU r “ i 6 00 10 00 U 00 Half a column, ’lO OO 14 00 ‘2O 00 One column, ■ 14 00 '26 00 . 40 00 AtolnWrutora J 1 75 Ueitbanta advertising by the year,three squares, with liberty to change, I ; I 10 00 professional or Business Cards, not exceeding. 8 lines with paper, per year, , ‘ V fi 00 ■ commualcations 0f a political character or individual, in* latest will be cUargCd accordihg to thoahovomee. T Advertisements not marked with the number 6t Insertions desired, will be continued till, forbid and Charged, according t» the above terms*. - . V - V [ Business notices Hire cants per lino for every 'insertion- Obituary notices f speeding ten lines, flftycente a Square. a».SOOD,JI. B. S’R S. GOOD & GEMMIDL MAY IN'O entered intoEsrtnerahip In Prictice of me, respectfully teaderthejr services'to'the Public in the several branches of tbeirPrdfeasion. *" r : '> ;?• Calls will bo answered either day or night&ttheir Office -which is the same as heretofore occupied by Ora. Hirst 1 Good,-or at the £ogan Uouas ipril 21« t, 18S9-99* • ~ W. M. LLOYD & CO., ' 'i ALTOONA, sFA., JOHNSTON, JACK & CO., HOLLWAYSBUJiG, PA., (Late ‘ * Bell, Johnston, Jack $ Co.”) Drafts on the principal Cities, \snd Silver and Gold for sale. Collections Bade. Moneys received bn deposits, payable on demand, without interest, or upon time, with interest at lair rates. Peb.Sd. 1859. ■ , v ■ r ANDS I LANDS I! LANDS! I! JJ The undersigned is, prepared to locate LAND WAR RANTS in the Omaha and Nebraska City Land Offices.— Good selections can now be made near tin large streams sad settlements. The Lands of this Territory, now in Market, are of the best quality. *3. Selections carefully made. Letters of inquiry re vested. alsx. f. McKinney, Ouapous, Cass County, N. Ter. July U f 1859.-tf ksrinxxcss: Ser. A. B. Cubk, Altoona, Fa. Wm. M. Lloto ft Co., Bankers, Altoona,Pa McCaoji ft Dub, Editors, “ Thos. A. Scott,' Bnpt. P. R. R., “ D. UoMumkie, Huntingdon, Pa.. T D.LEET, ATTORNEY AT LAW tf . ALTOONA, BLAIR Co, Pa., Will practice law in ihe several Courts of Blair, Cambria, Hnntiugdon.Clearfleld, Centre and adjoining counties.— Alio iii the District Count of the,United States. Collections of .claims promptly attended to. Agent for lie sale .of -Beal Estate, Bounty .Land Warrants, and all sasinss*pertaining to conveyancing and the law, RtrsaENCM; Horn. Wilson McCandles and Andrew Burke, Esq., Pitts burgh ; Jlon. Samuel A. Gilmore, Pres. Judge of F&yette J udicisl District; Hon. Chenard Clemens, of Wheeling, Vo.; Ilun UenrxD.Fostar, Grcensburg; lion. John W. Eillinger, Lebanon; Hon. Wm. A. Ritter, Philadelphia; and Hon. •eorge P. Hamelton, Pittsburg. June 16,1859-ly. The root and herb doctor, from Philadelphia, whosorooms have been bo dense ly crowded at the logan lldoae, on former visits, can be consulted hereafler'at the Altoona House, one day in each month, notice of which will be given in this paper. He will be in Altoona on the 13th day of Juiy,J7th of August and Uth day of September, after which he will he absent two mouths, but w lit give’ notice through this paper when ho will commence for the whiter season again., lie treats all diseases flesh is heir to. A stethoscopic examina tion of the Heart, lungs and Throat free of . charge. Tlicu nndsupon thousands have testified to the correctness of his testing diseases without asking any questions, lie has hid thirty years’ constant practice among diseases of every nature. All diseases of a private nature strictly confiden tial. t%Jk-o hand-blllf. Dr. W. LEVINGSXON. Boots and shoes.—the un dersigned has now on hand and will r nil cheap at his store in the Masonic Tcm- WHI I'le, a large and complete-assortment ofBOOTS ' AND SHOES, ready made, or made to .order, Overshoes, Ladles’Sandals,. Gum Shoes, Cork ™«>. and everything In Ids line of business, of ilia best quality and' 8n the most reasonable terms. All ittitom work warranted.- Jan. 2, ’O6-tf.] DUHNITGIIE WARE-EOOM.—THE J. undersigned respectfully informs the public that he “»en the ware-hwm two doors from the Blanch Sc ad, »liere he will keep onjumd allkinds of CABINET-WARE. Md attend to the duties of an UNDERTAKER. .Two good Cabinet-Makers and one apprentice wanted. Altoona, Apr. 12. IMP. JAS.T. MOORE. LANDEETH & SON’S Philadelphia Garden Seeds!! FRESH AND GENUINE, »t A. ROUSH’S Drpg .'Store. One paper of these Seeds **“**« papers of Parker’s Seeds. Aprd 12,1880. WM. S. BITTNER. SURGEON* DENTIST. AFPIOE IN THE MASONIC TEM Y*!'* ■' A 'ir [Dec. 23, ’68,-tt •d* A Student wanted. DR- WM. R. FINLEY RE- M SPEOXIf bU|T offers his prices to the people of ‘ Altoona -aha the wnlng country. MW;- .: . P mil 3' he found at’the office heretofore oc ‘«?>ed by I*. O. A thorns*. ~ _AUoona, Sept. SO.ISM.-tf I>KMOVA£.—A M. KINO, SHOE- Ay MAKER,- laJbifeu tbe public that be the Room pextdoortothb . 23’ Virginia Street,,where tov« U, c«,?SS factur6 w«ry, style of ounfr BIIOES > at WMonableprice*,and iff* iralMantUl - r - ‘ [JUrWCO^th ftOOT AND SHOEMAKER-t-JOHN fir betoken a portion of tbo ft »>y A.' K. JOSO, next d»6r^ Uaulir^F 8 ! 8 Ti “ Ml Smod to getup ueb’Cyßoots & Sboeel^HßF (}pTION.— ALL PERSONS ARE bn witif A n °t to purchase or sell any lager beer ALTOONA BUEWEBf there fr™, th»n keg * nev^ r h*To’ been and ne»er wUI be told b cl«Jm P a e All kegs cintainging said stamp will st the **“ V^ ten > wherever found, by the proprietors } X%th&r hom the y belon «- 1 y * f«thlSs9-tr.. WILHELM ABUO. m. d., tltoona aad” c I(nit 1 (nity rOfeWi0I1!l1 BorTlccs 10 the citizen* of b 0 Ten If required. AF" 01 ' BEST ABTICLfi OF *t the «flehrated LcwUtowa mill*, kept 1! PHc***/^* 1 Store. Call and get a uuuple'.of •—""wbUi loweat. [Feb. 28 ’OUT P^OUrIjjjLIVER^D '^uso. V, X 6)ool)#,'K. D, V/ CX J, SHOEMAKER. mmonT chaeoz, ' O. MCIOABD. iili • -i ' • -ProatVie JEvenino Jfat. THE NEW BONNET. Tograve andwise! rebuke me npt, Nor thinfcmy: theme too idle; Nwr yon,' Muses'l seek. My wingleasstsed ter bridle. On your wbWbrows the lanrpl shone,: By oldOlympua shady; And I but sing the crowu she wears, ■> | A lovely, modem lady! "■ Alas! alast a crown no more, And therefore is this sonnet! An awful tincture doth displace . The “darling of a.bonnet.” Medusa’s bead 'twere very hapl i To wearitbut for one day; Bnt you, it suits yon passing well. Unlovely Mr*. Grundy t And 1 would crown yon with it too, Forever and forever, Ahd .njl yonr flowing grace of robe Ah I what wo we to do with Hi«m. ■The grosses,flowers and laces. That on the Uttie bonnet threw , New beanty o’erifcir fcces. And hiiVtnd lost, the glossy braids, The dark or golden tn»aes, That, from its light-worn bondage free, The gentle air caresses ? No wonder woqian’s brow should flash 1 With fleet but ahgry passion, •Thus fettered to the chariot wheels I pf every.foolish Cubical And is there no Utopian climo j Amid the ocean islands, Or aoiae green vale of JEden hld Within the distant highlands, W may |hey wish On eyeryday sod Sunday, And scorn tie edict and tie rod Of ruthless Mrs. Grundy ? THE DEPARTED. Notfaibg is onr own; we hold onr pleasures Jnst a little while ere they have fled; One by on<| life robs ns of, onr treasures; ' Nothing is our own excppttho dead. They are ours, and hold vfith faithful keeping, Safe forever, all they took away; Cruel life can never stir that sleeping, Cruel time can never seize that prey. Justice pales; truth lades; stars fall from heaven; Human are the great whom we revere; No true crown of konor can be given. Till the wreath lies on a funeral bier. How the children leave ns; and no traces Linger of that smiling angel band; ~ Gone, forever gone, and In their places, Weary men hud anxious women stand.. Yet wo have some little ones, still ours; Thej havekeptthe smile we know, Which wo kissed one day, and bid with flowers On their dear white laces long ago. When our joy is lost, and life will take it, Then no memory of the past remains ; Save with some strange, cruel sting, that makes it Bitterness beyond all present pains. Death, more fender-hearted, leaves to sorrow Still the radiant shadow—fond regr^j; Wo shall find, in some bright fair to-nfcrrow, Joy that he has taken, living yet I love ours, and do wo dream we know It, ' j Bound with all our heart-strings, all onr own. And cold and cruel dewn may show it, Shattered, desecrated,’overthrown. Only dead hearts forsake its never; Dove, that to death’s loyalcarehas fled, Is thus consecrated onre forever. And no chance can rob ns of our dead. So whin fate comes to besiege our city; Dim our gold, or make oar flowers fall. Death, the angel comes In love,and pity, And to save onr treasures, claims them oil. KNOWLEDGE AND CHARITY. nrncxßßjniTojf. If we knew the cares tuid crosses Crowding round onr neighbors way; If *c knew .the little losses, 1 Sorely grievous day by day; Would we then so often chide him For his lack of thrift and gain— Leaving on his heart a shadow. Leaving on onr lives a stain. If we knew the clonds ahove ns, Heid by gentie blessings there. Would we turn away all trembling; ■ In .onr blind and wtafcdespoirf Would we shrink from little shadows, " Lying on the dewy grass. Whilst ’tls only birds Of Eden, , ' * Aust in mercy flying past., If we knew the silent story, v ; Quivering through the heart of pain, ■Would our womanhood dyre doom .them Back to haunts of guilt again I- ' life hasinany atangl jd cropsipg, Joy hath many a break ofVoe. And .the cheeks, tearwushod, are the Aa the blessed angels know. -*1: Jietna BMrchylthinour bosoms Forthe koytonthers’livea, And with love towards erring nature, Cherish good that stOl survives; So Quit when our diarpbeid spirits Sow to realms of light again, We may tay, dearlfathor, Jadgpus, A 8 we judge our’fellow-men. • - T MSB"** ,B “ ver y significant epistle.to bepre gentea to the present degenerate 1 age, which, if answered correctly, would bo found tocontain inorotrntlr fhfcn f. T 1 N ls there' a heart that noror sighed t • fjcPIS Is there a tonguothat never lied f : : IB there an eye that never blinked? la there a man that never drinkedt ■ la there a woman tbat never fainted! ■ ' la there a woman that never painted t ‘j ■ • . If ao, .then heart, aipd tongue, and eye . Must tell a most confounded lie. He’a a MVwbp thinka bylbree hr skill Xoturnthectgrent of a womjan’awill. deleft Ipstcllang. THE HEATH STEHGGEE. AT BUENA VISIA/ t BY QEORGE LIPPABQ. U, It was near :the setting of the sun, when the Man of Palo Alto, Resacade la Palma and Monterey, saw the clouds come down on the last'charge Buena Vista, that a scene worthy pf the days of Washington, closed thefdayjin glory. • Do you behold that dark ravine, deep and sunken between these precipitous banks ? Herd ho sunlight comes, for these walls of rock wrap the pass in eter nal twilight, i, Withered trees grow be tween the masses of granite and scattered sfone makes the bed .of the ravine uncer tain and difficult for the tread. Hark ! That cry, that rushiike a moun tain torrent bursting its barriers, and quick as the lightning flashes from dark ness, the dismal ravine is bathed in red battle light, From its northern extremi ty, a confused band of Mexicans, an army in itself came yelling along the pass, treading one another down as they fly, their banners, spears, horses and men, tos sed together in, inexplicable confusion. By thousands they rush into the shad ows of the pass,; their‘dark faces reddened by the sheeted A blaze of musketry. The caverns of the ravine send back the roar of the panic, and the grey rocks are wash ed by their. bloßd. , But the little band who pursues this ar my-—Who are they ? You may see in their ilim heroic ranks, the volunteer cos tumeofllUnoiSand.JLentuckey. At their head, urging hip men with shouts, rides the gallant McKee, by his side young Henry Olay, that broad fhrehead, which reminds you of his ; father, -bathed in the glare ofhisjswosd as it quivers on high ere it falls to kill. . There too, .Vwil&fig. ure, red with his own blood of Mexican foes, his uniform rent in tatters, his arms bared to, this shoulders, striking terrible blows with his good sword—Harden, of of Illinois, comes gallantly forward. The small, but iron band, hurl the Mex icans irom the heights into the ravine, and follow up the chase, far down into the eternal twilight ;of that moutain pass. Look! As their musketry streams its steady blaze, you would think that one ceaseless sheet of lightning bathed these rooks in flame. : • .Over the; Mexicans, man and horse, hufled back; in mad disorder, the Ameri cans dash on their way, never heeding the overwhelming numbers of their foes, never heeding the palpitating forms beneath their feet, with bayonet and rifle, and sword, they press steadily on, their wel known, banner streaming evermore, over head Esul. The howl of the dying war horse— hark I—Does it not chill your blood to hear it ?-r-?The bubbling cry of the wound ed man, with the horse’s hoof upon his mouth, tramping his face into a hideous wreck-—-does it not sicken your soul s to hear it. ' ;i -1 / 7'-• A hundred yards or more, into thepass the have penetrated, when sud env^Pw ottn o Mexican rushing back upon their ranks, seized the fallen flag of Ana hnac, and dashes to his death. To see hida, young and beardless, a very boy, rush with h|s country’s flag, with his bared breast,upqn that line of sharp steel —it was a eight to stir cowards into man - hood, audit shot; into the Mexican hearts like an electric flame. Even in their panic-stricken disorder turned ; by hundreds they grasped their arms,pod rolled in one long wave of lance and bayonet, upon the foe. Woe to the brave men of; Illinois and Kentucky now ! Locked in: that deadly pass, a wall of infuriated!Mexicans between that wall of rocks —above their heads through every aperture among the elii&, the blaze of muskets, pouring a shower of bullets in their face-—-wherever they turned the long and deadly lance paused at their throats— it was a moment Jo think once of home and die. Those who survived that fearful mo ment, tell with shuddering triumph of the threo heroea—-McKee, Hardin and Clay. McKee, .you see him yonder, with his Shattered swprd gripping blood, he en leavora toward off the aims-of the deadly ances, and fights Jen his knees when he .can stand no ? longer, and then the com jbafeints close pver ; him, and you see hyn mb more. ” r “'.'t w * l s ; Hardin rosjie from a heap of slaughtered foes, his face streaming from its hideous lahco wounds, and waved a Mexican flag in triumph, as his life-blood gushes in a torrents over his. muscular form. That instant the full light of v the battle stream ed upon his mangled face. Then, flinging .the captured hag to a brother 1 “ Give it to her as a of Buena Vista I iMy wife!” TtwaSpß last words. Upon his bared breast me fpry of ton lances;rushed, and the horses hoofs'trampled him into the heap of dead. / most sad and most glorious/ of all, was to see the death of the Second Henry Clay. You should have seemhim, frith his* back against yonder rock, his sword [INDEPENDENT IN EVERYTHING.] ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 12, 1860. grasped firmly as a consciousness that fie bore a name that must not die ingloriously, seemed to fill his uvery vein, and dart a ‘deadly fire from his eyes! At that moment he looked like the old man. For his ; brow, highand retreating, with the blood-clotted hair waving back from wasswollen in every vein, as soul shone fromit ere she fled 1 forever. Lips set, hands firm—a circle of his men fighting around him—he dashed into the Mexicans uuti his sword was wet, his arm weary. At with his thigh splintered by a ball, he gathered his proud form to its ful height, and fell." His face ashy with /in tense agony, he bade his comrades to leave him there $6 die, That ravine should be the bed of his glory■. But gathered around him a guard of breasts and one or two of their number carried him tenderly along—these men of Kentucky fought around their iallen hero, and as retreating step by step, they launch ed their swords and bayonets into the faces of the foe, they said with every blow— “ Henry Clay." It was wonderful to see how that name nerved their arms, and called a smile to' the face of the dying hero. How it would have made the heart of the old man 0 f Ashland throb, to have heard his name, yelling as a battle cry, down the shadows of that lonely pass. Along the ravine, and up the harrow i path ! The hero bleeds as they bear him. on, and tracks the way with his blood.— Faster and thicker the Mexicans swarm— they see the circle around the fallen man, even see his p.aje face, uplifted as a smile crosses its fading lineaments, and like a a pack of wolves, scenting the frozen trav eler at dead of night they come howling . up the rocks, and charge the devoted band with one dense hi ass of bayonets, i Up and on ! the light shines yonder, on the topmbst rocks if the ravine, It is the light of the setting sun. Old Taylor’s eye is upon that rock, and there we will fight our way and die in the old man’s sight I It was a murderous way, that path'up the steep bank of the ravine! Littered with dead, slippery with blood, it grew flacker every moment with Mexicans, and the defenders of the wounded hero, fell one by one, into the chasm yawning all round. , ® At last they reached the light, the swords and bayonets glitter in the sight of the contending armies, and the bloody contest roars towards the topmost rock. Then it was that gathering up his dy ing frame—armed with supernatural vigor —young Clay started from the arms or his supporters, and stood with outstretched hand in .the light of the setting sun. It was a glorious sight which he saw there, amid the rolling battle clouds; Santa Anna’s formidable array hurled back in to ravine and gorge by Taylor’s little band. But a more glorious thing it was to see that dying man standing for the last time, in the light of that sun, which shall never raise for him again. . “Leave me!” he shrieked, as he fell back on the sod—“l inust die, and I yi'J here ! Peril- your lives no lone er for me! Go! There is work for you yonder!’’ J The Mexicans crowded on, hungry for blood; Even as he spoke, their bay glistening by hundreds, were leveled at the the throats of the devoted band. By the mere force of their over whelming numbers they crushed them back from the side. of the dying young Clay. One lingered, a Brave man, who had known the chivalric soldier, and loved him long; he stood there, and covered as he was with blood, heard these last words: Tell my father how I died+gnd give him. these pistols ! l Lifting his ashy face into the light, he turned Bis eyes upon his comrade’s face, placed the pistols ip his hands— and fell back to his death. That comrade, with the pistols in his grasp, fought his way alone to the top most rock of the path, ' and. only onse looked back. He saw a quivering form canopied by bayonets—he saw those'out stretched hands grapglmgiwith points' of a pale^lplp lifted once in the ught, and then darkness rushed upon the life of-young Henry Clay. HOTEL SCENE. . take it first and last all through life, it is really amazing what a raft of people we’ye heard and never seen. Es pecially in hotels. v ’ It has beep Mace Sloper’s luck to be frequently quartered in rooms with noth ing but a door betwixt his room and his neighbors y and whenever this, happened he has been about as cer ■tam to hear, willing or nnwilling, consid erable that wasn’t spoken to him. Par ticularly when girls wereins|te next room ! No t giving myself credit ftir any, especial cuteness, I can’t brag of ever having got up guy wise theory on the subject -; but it does seem to'mo that the wild est, and/ most amazing speebheb/I ever heard in all my life from mortal lips always pome from people I couldn’t see.— Moreover—and ’n ; agree with me if he’ll rake out. his own* experience a little—l maintain that no tWo'people Pan talk in the dark to another as they do in the light. Report such a talk* and read it to them, and they’ll as soon believe that they’ve been talking Injun. That’s so / Which reminds Mace Sloper of a talk he once heard in a New Jersey hotel. • I had quietly smpked myself into a regular nap such as the good alone, enjoy, when .1 .was awoke by hearing some body enter the next room. Apparently he woke some body else np too, who was sleeping, there in advanpe-of him. “ Hullo thar ?”• says;tlfp mama-bed.. “ Hul-lO and behold !’*nnswered the one entering. •< Wait for your welcome More you come in,” said No. 1. “ In-comes are Welcome,” answered No. 11. “ The ihixologist of tipulare director ized me to apartment 3CG, which being exceedingly weary, I did* uncandelized.— But if you desire illuminosity—i—” “ Stranger No. 1.: “hold thar! don't light a rafter the love of God! I know your like without »goin’ furder. You'er five feet ’leven inches high,£ot gray eyes and a coon-eol ored vest, short-cropped ha'r and a loose over-coat, nose like a razor-handle, and scar oyer your left eye. That's the stripe!” “ How do you cognovit that ?” was the (hmazed reply. ; ' Cog thunder /” was, the; response. “ How do I know how you look ? Why, who the d-—1 ever, heard of a man's hom ing to bed in the dark, and calling aibar keeper a mixologist of tipular fix|ns, unless he had gray eye?, razor-handled nose, short ha'r, ah' a coon-colored vest ? Don’t light match, stranger j on my account.-?- 1 Drummon lights would be darkness on your face arter such a blaze of language as that. ‘llluminosity' and ‘ cognovit!' That shows you've got a ca’pet-bag in your hand and a whiskey bottle in it. Shot” r There was a sound like the pop of a cork, and a clear case drinking to better acquaintanceship going on as I fell to sleep. ,We hear queer things in the dark. That Western man rather .knocks me whenever I think of him. 0. G. LELAND. GENEBAL JACKSON’S WIPE. Many of our public men have been blessed with wives and mothers who were the ornaments of their se?r, and their quiet and ennobling influence contributed large ly to the subsequent greatness of their children and husbands. Mr. Pafton tells the following story of General Jackson’s wife. When General Jackson was, a candi date for the Presidency, in. 1828, not only did the party opposed to him abase him for his public acts, which, if unconstitu tional of violent, Were a legitimate sub ject of reprobation, but they defamed the character, of his wife. Quppne occasion a newspaper published ashville waai laid upon the GeneJPw table. HI glanced over it, and his eye fell upon an article in which the character of Mrs. Jackson was violently assailed, So sOon as he read it he sent for his trusty old servant, Dunwoodie. “ Saddle my horse,” said he to him in a whisper, “and put my holsters bn him;” Mrs. Jackson 'watched him, and, though she heard not a word, she thought she saw mischief in his eye. The General went out after a few minutes, when she toofc up the paper and understood everything. She ran out to the south gate of the" yard at the Hermitage, by which the General would have to pass. She had not been there more than a few seconds before 'the General rode up, with the countenance! of a madman. She placed herself before his horse and cried out. . ~ “0, General! don’t go to Nashville. Let that poor editor live—let that poor editor live !” He replied; “"How chine you to know what lam going for ?” She answered: “ I saw it all in his paper after you pent out; put up your horse mid go back;” < He replied furiously ; “But! will go-f-get oqt of my way P- Instead of doing this, she grasped hin both hands. He cried to go my hpree : I’ll have his • the villain that reriles niy wife shall not live.” 7 ■=■■■• ■ She grasped the but thedighter, and began to expostukte with him, saying, that sbe was the one who ought to be an gj> but that she forgave her persecutors from tbe bottom of hsr prayed he should forgive, if be had hoped to he forgiven* M last, by per reasoning , her entreaties .and tears, she so worked upon her husband that be seemed mollified to a eeftain extent. She wound up by saying, , “ No, General, you shall not'take the lire of even my reviler; you dare not do ityfor it is written,' “ Ven geance is mine, T will repay, saith the Lord/” ;/ /■;■■ I The. iron-nerved hero gave way before the earnest pleading' of his beloved wife, and / l yield to you j but had it hQ|fhe?ttimr you; &i)d the words of thg Al mighty, the iirretch should an hour.” /'/. ' ""■■■ EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. Captain Brady and the KedsHhs— Adventure. In the North American, received this morning, we find a communication from MrC Rea, in which he details a thrilling incident in the life of the celebrated In dian scont Captain Brady, related to him by the captain of the canal boat on which he recently traveled from New Brighton to New Castle. The Captain was once taken prisoner by the redskins at a point about five or six miles above the month of Beaver, river, and his 'capture is thus described by the skipper: “Brady fiad never been .taken by the Indians before, anPwt Mclntosh had been abandoned in Lukens’ Blockhouse, built where ffew Brighton now stands, was only nominally occupied. The Indians had stolen, there fore into the neighborhood, and form ed an encampment without detection. They were upon a hunting expedition, and had with them a number of wopicn. and children. As soon as Brady was seis ed, disarmed and' bound, the Joy of the Indians knew no limit. It was In dian their captive, pleaded that peace existed. Their great roe was in thoin power, and they resolved to burn him at the stajee that very day. -After the usual prepara tions were made, he was led to the place of execution. When he was tied, apd just as the flames began to crackle about him, he contrived to seize a knife front an Indian .squaw near by, and in one instant was free. He. snatched On Indian child from the arms of its mother, threw it into the fire, and, during thqponfrision consequent upon the attempt it from, the flames, bounded ajray pith a fleetnessto be equalled only by the train ed frontiersmen of that dav , y. „ Unarmed as he was, save with the knife, he had to depend upon his speed for bis life. The Indians, understanding wcdl that he would make for the block hpmte? kept down the N arrows, on the west Bide of the river (a narrow defile evento this day, only affording room enough ufter heavy cutting for a wagon road.) ’' They drove him up the prest of a narrow ridge overlooking Eallston. To deapepd the rocks opposite our block house, rising as they did perpendicularly for about’ forty feet or more, seemed impossible. (Hie Indians, therefore, kept on at full speed, hoping to catch him as ho descended Fall* stock neck, nearly a mile below, where the declivity becomes inore gradual. He iw and comprehended- the terrible oir imstances by which he was surrounded. v# Jhind hini the woods. were swarming with armed foes. Others had passed in front of him, and cut off f retreat tp the • southward. He stood .forj>- moment over looking the whole vallejriikom his eyrie. A grape vine, gunning along the ground for some distance, and closely twined to the limbs of a tree overhanging the pre cipice, providentially chanced' to be fit' band- It was out, be. swung out -upon it the tree yielded, and he was within ten feet of narrow shelf in the ledge, from " which, if he reached it he could rapidly descend to the foot of the hill. He drop pea, and although "bruised and cut by the / fall, in ten minutes he had reached the y waters’ edge, crpssed the river, and safely housed in the stockade fort. /Two years afterwards, within'five hundred feet of where he had made' this terrible leap, he amply avenged himself by,/cutting off - a band of thirty of his red foCs, and among ®3i the leader of tho yesry band who had en him prisoner. Such is one of the thrilling traditions with which this valley abounds.” ./ v. J oNj?s on Fits.- —Mrs. ■ japo Elizabeth' Jones, one of the speakers, at the recent^Woman’s Bights Convention in New/Jbrk, was somewhat severe upon those/seemingly, masculine erotica that fimrrish, in the atmosphere pf dry .goods pnd shoe stores and millinery establish ments. ; Hear her: . “ The other day she saw a man milliner holding up a bonnet op his soft bauds and expatiating on its merits. , A lady tried it on and he went into ecstacies, it was suck a fit and so becoming I He complimented the bonnet and then he complimented the lady. She could not but think that this man was out of his sphere. In a shoo store, instead of a sprightly girl to try on womans’gaiters, you find a strong man, whp tries it, and fusses over the gaiter and over the foot, until the lady is almost tempted to propel him into his true* sphere. [Laughter.] When and where was it discovered that God made man to fit Indies’ gaiters ? [Laughter.] B®, Be notMrafd to do right» strives to please everybody t v ->V&r- jj ; ? NO. 23.