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,
an<i was this time led into their hands by
the too eager'Oursuit of a wounded buck. ‘
Ho had wounded a deer, and was follow*
ing it with loping gait in which
he travoledi when he was rapidly pressing
On his game, or an enemy* Coming out
from the hills suddenly, uponwhatisnbw
called “ Walnut Bottom,,” ho was seized,
thrown from his feet, and pinioned to the
earth by a half a dozen stalwart sayages.
One reason, doubtless, why Brady was so
incautious, was the fact that peace then
nominally prevailed between the whites,
and the Indians. . This was in 1789,' apd
late in the autumn of that year, >Pwt
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.