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'SS
A.KEBY!
' ANNOITN
i<f vicinity lljgt ]u
<vt&, gpxoea -
fcr the
stock of plihi
ro.
isins, &o,
usses, Bator,
EAT FLOUR,
MB*!L, *O,
small qnsntiUa,
anil you wiß find
JACOB, WHB.
ON WHICH
1-JT myS^B
'oh -
11 ‘f ■
aru! wprk.
!- —W.rßoots.Sliocv,
: 1 •irVriec*. "
" tom-work, all of
tl -D. KODObuttho
■treat, .liaraedhitcly
H. ROBERTS.
JTINCOOE-
jLOT&trorfl
injfto the pnUIo .
■; ittSO ■ i
i is (IfwtUwl te n
Icily end regsbr
• nftees frcm thi*
Bawl ere ft fid o
t* lh.»t 'troplwi*«nt
Misumedliaideof
' Of floM OttH&O
aiortar looeened'bj
"■ invited to oft *t
lir Temple, andtt-
HOEMAJCat
r .Stair Omitty.
[AogTlCiaM.
gency,
)CB®.
BOOKS,
[ONAEBES
LGgd. „ ,
LTvaaronr
.ZSTTB-
.ariPPI
McCRUM & BERN,
VOL. 6.
THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE,
V a McCEUM
*•■ rCBUMrtS iSD PttOfEUSTOKB.
annum, (payable invariably in advance,)...... *I.W.
Ui papers diacotttiuned at'the expiration of the tune
paid lor
TUJIB or . ADVJBTIHISQ.
1 iuuertion 2 do. 8 do.
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On-s ioore, ( 8 Hum) 100 1 50 2 00
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pfraa n.ro for each 6 monthB . 1 year.
, 4150 4 3 00 $5 00
Six lines or lew * J “ * 4 00 7 00
• 6 QO 10 00
' : *’ J Vi V. 5 00 8 09 12 00
1“ IeB a 00 10 00 wo«
■ “ , ,n 00 W OO 20 00
iWf a column ™ 00 40 00
One column W OO « j. 7S
lO 00
l'tefc«ion»l , or < Busiae«s CaVis, not eiceertutg 8
iU
mJ» he *»£ tan
tlM totod? will be continued till forbid and charged ac-
per line for every insertion.
Oliiuary notices eiecedini: ten lines, fifty Ants a square
tribune directory.
CHURCHES, MINISTERS, &C.
I.i'V«BYTEUJAX—K«v. Hanks, Pastor—Prcaduns
. V'“"Vl'Mli iliurums at 11 o'clock, will in tnu c-rciimi;
..t Prayer McctiriK in th« Lecture Hooni every
U i'.'„ Jay'tvenirti: at 7 o'clock, Sabbath School in same'
„ .""VuVjo-dowWin the morning.
‘•mVtHODI.ST BPISCOPAL-kev. W.-Lee SmfWooD.
. ’ every flabbuth morning at 11 « clock,
■ iV-'tlit* VvcnJu" at 7 o’clock. Prayer Mevting m the
r‘;.A- Room every .Wednesday evening »t 7 o’cluck.-
' »Mi «cb<.K*l in the name room at 2 oclock P. 31.
“VIAViKUCAI. LVTJIKKAN— IIev. C. L. EtmctraU).
’>;*• r—Preaching every Sabbalh morning at 11 u clock,
| tj lt ' evening at 7 o’clock. Prayer Meeting iu the
Room every Wednesday evening at 7 o dock.—
v Vcbool.ia same room at 0 o'clock A. M.
"''liU’UST—Rev. A. 11. SiaiU'V.vkii,^Pastor. —Preaching
, rv morning at 11 o'clock,.and ni the eveningut
7 VcY-iik. Prayer Meeting every Wednesday evening at
*. \1 ck. Sabbath School at IF o'clock A. M.
USIfKD BRETHREN—Rev. S.oiuel Kepjiart. Pastor,
v Si "' every Sabbath morning at 11 o'clock, undin the
.‘i'tral 7 o'clock. Prayer Meeting hi the Lecture Room
i :v Wednesday evening at 7 o’clock. Sabbath School in
tb r.i’.in; room at G o'clock iu the morning.
riIOI’KSTANT EPISCOPAL—(No regular Pastor.)—
I*.. --,v ijiibb.ith morning at 11 o'clock, and In the
. w.':th' , ui*7 o'clock. Prayer Meeting every Wednesday
c at 7 irdock. v Sabbath School at l J o*cb>ck A. M.
KNUUSU CATHOLIC—Rev. Jfmk Tuwo, Pa*r-.r—Di
vin-* services every Sabbuth morning at lU}.<7 o’clock and
ni the nib. rnouu at C o’clock. Sabbath School at 2 o'clock
?!.•■ ai'tcrliooil.
GCIIMAN CATHOLIC—IU-v. Pastor.
—bi>in<- bcrvK-es every Sabbath morning ,ut 1->M o clock,
u-. Vin the afternoon at U o'clock, Subbuth' School at 1
fVL'Ck j'rtlte afternoon.
AFRICAN METHODIST—Rev, Alk-TANDeiI Johnston,
ew-ry Fourth Sabbath iu each month,
)’V.i\cr Meeting e\ery Friday evening at 7 o'clock. Sab-
Urn School at 2 o'clock in the afU-riioou.
RAIL ROAD SCHEDULE.
ON AND AFTER MONDAY, NOV. 25, ISCI, TRAINS
vii! arrive It and leave Altoona Station as follows: -
iuds Tr*in Eoktarrives* 9,35 P. 31., leaves 9.55 p-M.
■ « West u 8,2 u A. M. “ 8.4dA.31.
i* M t ki East 4 3.35 A. M. “ 3,40 A.M.
- •< West “ 8,55 I*.M., “ 9,10 P. 31.
Mail “ East 44 7.30 A". M. r . * 44 7.45 A.M.
“ West 44 2,25 I*. M„ 44 2,45 P. 51.
The HOLLIDAYSBUKO BRANCH .connects with Ex*
] c.-vs Train ami Fast Line West, and Mail Train East and
West, -.
INDIANA BRANCH TRAINS connect with Johnstown
Af•■.‘.■mtiivrtlutiou Trains East and West. Express and
Mail uain East and West.
ENOCH LEWIS, Gcnl SwpL
MAILS CLOSE AND OPEN.
MAILS CLOSE.
Kv*teru Way
W ••-torn Way
H -lit Iny.-burg
.Wdtfrru'Tlirough.
i. i»t'.ru Through;
MAILS ARRIVE
IWliilayahurg 8.15 A. M. &ll 15 A.M.
U'fMern Tlirough 3 10 A. 51.
K.Mern Throngh ...... : 8 20 *•’
W-etcrn Way 11 22 X. 31.
Kinlern* Way ....', 1 55 P. 31.
office llouiw:—During the week, from 0 45 A. M. till
T Ui i l . it. OmSundays, from 7 45 till 9 00 a. w.
GEO. W. PATTON P. M
MEETINGS OF ASSOCIATIONS.
MOUNTAIN LODGE, N 0.281. A. Y. M„ meets, on second
.Tuesday of each mouth, at 7}<» o’clock P. 31., iu the third
jforv of the Masonic Temple."
MOUNTAIN R. A. CHAPTER, No. ISO B. A. 0., meets
'•u the first Thursday of inch month, at I),A o'chwk P. M.,
in wan* room as above. !
MOUNTAIN .COCXCIIit No. 0. R.& S.M., meets on the
first Monday of each luonllh, at 1% o’clock. P. M., in same
room as above. ’ -
MOUNTAIN CO3I3IANDEUV, No. 10, K. T. mwtfl on
tho fourth Tuesday of each month, at o’clock P. M ,
iu same room as above.
ALTOONA LODGE, No. 473, I. O. of 0. V., meets every
Friday evening, at 1)4 o’clock, in the second story of tho
Masonic Temple. ,
YKUANDA LODGE, No. 532. I. 0. of 0. F., meets every
Tuesday evening, at 7*4 o’clock, in third story of Patton’s
Building, on Virginia street.
WINNEBAGO TRIBE, No. 35, I. 0. 11. M„ meets every
Tuesday evening in the second story of Slavonic Temple.
Council firefeindled at 7th run 30th breath.
ALTOONA DIVISION, No,3U, R. of T., meets every
Saturday evening, at 7 o’clock, ill tho second story of tho
Masonic* Temple. ’
STATE OFFICERS.
Gowmor —Andrew 0. Curtin.
Secretary of Mate— Eli Slifer.
Attorney General —WUlitun 31. Meredith.
AndiUpf General —Thomas E. Cochran.
Surveyor General— William L. Wright.
General—E. M. Kiddle.
State Vreasurtr— Ueury D. Moore.
BLAIR COUNTY OFFICERS.
Jndgit qf the Cbnrts. —President Judge, lion Gcorgo Tay
lor, Associates, Samuel Dean, Adam Moses.
Slate Senator-lion.. Lewis W. llall.
AnruiUyman,— Xhaddens Banks.
Vrothmotarg— Anthony S. Morrow.
Rtgitttr and Detorder—Un gh A. Caldwell.
•Shertf— Samuel UcCamont, Deputy—John Marks.
District Attomey*~Bqpiiaaln L. llcwit.
County Ommusionrrs —<3eorgo L. Cowan, George Coon,
James M. Cinkead- *
o*’.nly Surveyor— James L. Qwin.
Trfaturer— JohuMcKeage. ,
iW Home Director*— Deter Good, William Burley, David
Amundt.
Gmnty Auditor*~~ A. M. Lloyd, Robt. M. Mcssimer, L. L.
Moore.
Osroner—A. J. Freeman.
&ij*rinimdm( rif ft/m won §& ooU—Joh n Mitchell.
ALTOONA BOROUGH OFFICERS.
JmliiM oftfte Peace —Jacob M. Cherry. John McClelland.
oi*>yprr—John Alltoon.
lowa Council —A. A. Smyth, Daniel Baughman, John Mo-
Dowell, E. Greenwood, <3. B. Hostetler,N. J. Mervinc.
r Jerl-te (hi,Sol-9. M.Woodkok.
llnneph Triaturer— Daniel Lehghman,
"J Birtdnrt —Geo. John Shoemaker, J.B.
aHeniah, Wm. Hoyden, Jkmcs Lowther. E. A. Beck. '
"ttuuret of School Bpart-J. B. HUeman.
Offl s teM < _Jo»eph
tWOdor OnaUj/,SiMVttgh and School Tax— Joa.
n. ; T ■ .
Bowther, C- J. Mann, Alex. McCormick.
McClelland s
A Mart Aueani-lu*A HeUer, J.B. Belfcnydsr,
of -KwWoim—But Watd-Wnilam Maloney.
“ Most Ward-Johnß. Piper.
.. BeTlman, KObt.Pltcalrns.
Korth Ward—Robt: McCormick, John Condo.
U. C. DEBS,
THE WOLVES. :
[The following poem, wliich wo fin'd in tire At
lantic Monthly for December, may- not jingle so
musically upon the ear of the casual reader as
some, others we might select, but to, our mind it
possesses more of the elements of gtmnine poetiy
than anything we have met with in a long while.
It is [icenUarly apropos to the season:]
I Shudder net at the murderer’s name,
II Marvel not at the maiden’s shame,
ll 00. A.M.
8 00‘ 44
8 CO A. 31. A 11 00 A. M,
7 00 P. 31
7OO 44
BY J. T. TIIOWBIUDOE
Vo who Ustou to stories told
When heart* aro'cheery uud nights aro cold,
Of the lone woods ide and the hungry pack
That howls on the fainting traveler's track-s^
Fbunr r d eyoballs that waylay,
By the wintry moon r the Lolatcd sleigh;
The lost child sought In the dismal wood,
The little shhes and the stains of blood
On the trampled snow; Oh! yc that hear
With thrills of pity and chills of fear,
Wishing some angel had been sent
To shield the hapless innocent—
Enow yo the fiend that is crueller for
Than the gaunt grey herds of the forests ore?
Swiftly vanish the wild, fleet tracks
Before the rifle.and woodman's axe;
Dirt hark to the coming of unseen feet,
Pattering by night through the city street!
Each wolf that dies in the woodland brown
Xdves u spectre and haunts the town. ,
All night they snuff and snarl before
Thu poor patched window and broken door;
They paw the clapboards and claw the thatch;
At every crevice they whine and scratch;
Their tongues are subtle, and long and thin,
And they hip tlu living blood within. V
Icy keen are the teeth that tear,
ifed os ruin the eyes that glare.
Children.crouched in corners cold
Shiver in talUred'gar&ients old,
And start from sloop with bitter pangs
At the touch of the phantom’s vlewlestrfangs.
Weary the mother and worn with strife,
Still she watches and fights for lifo.
But her hand 5 is weak and weapon small!
One little needle against them all! .
In an evil hour the daughter fled
From her j»oor chamber and wretched bed;
Through the,city’s pitiless solitude
To tho door of sin the wolves pursued.
Fierce the father and grim with
Ills heart Is gnawed by the spectre gaunt;
Frenzied, stealing forth by night,
Willi whetted knife to the desperate fight,
He thought to strike tho spectre dead,
But he smites Lis brother.man instead.
Oh! yc who listen to stories told '
* When hearts arc cheery and nights, are cold.
Weep no more at the tales yon hear—
Tiie danger is close and the wolves are near.
Pa*a not by with averted eyo
The door whence the stricken children cry
\ But when the-beat of the unseen ftjet;’
: I Sounds by night in the stormy street,'
11 Fcflow thou where the spectres glide;
Stand like Hope by tho mother's side,
And be thyself the angel sent
To shield tho hapless and innocent.
lie gives but little who gives hi# tears, • 1
lie gives •his best who aids, and cheers.
lie docs well in the forest wild
Who slays the monster and saves the child;
But he does better and merits more, :
Who drives tho wolf from tho poor man’s door.
|psMliw|.
[Original.]
MY BIRTH-NIGHT DREAM.
XIV DAISY HOWARD.
1 . .r ' ' t
There is a tempest raging outside to
night; and I sit here alone, listening to
its strife. • The rain is dashing against
the windows like mad, and. the wind is
wailing out a wild wisem-e—a .gad, sullen
Dki Ira: —and that strikes a chill to my
heart.
Twenty-six to-night! lonely, homeless;
I had'well nigh said friendless; but, thank
God, some few friends are'left to me.-
Courage! fainting heart; let you and I
look at this tiling just as it is. Let us
look our future calmly in the face—you
and I, poor heart
First let us count our purse. Just seven
cents I—a bright half-dime and two pen
nies; and poor Jamie's shoes out at the
toes, and his blight locks uncovered, save
by an old felt hat with many and many
a hole in it; poor little Jamie! dive
strength, 0! Father—strength to a spr
rdw-sich soul. - ! .
Twenty-six to-niglrt, “tind all is lost
except a little life.” But, courage 1 poor
heart; drpop not, Oh weary head; ity is
hot seemly on your birth-night. All this
is very well to write or spcdk’; but it hull
not still the clamoring of- my lonely heart.
O' friends of other days, my soul is yearn
ing for your presence. Come back to me
if but in seeming, arid sit thee
down in the vacant chairs by my side; for
lam wcaty and lonely, and my heart is
aching drearily. Ah! I invoke thee in
vain ; but is this? As I bve,
every chair is filled! and loving tyords
and trader tones round me. .Gather
closer—closer, re loved ones. O! T have
ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 9, 1862.
so longed fiy this hour; and now that it
has cotoe my heart is fairly flooded with
its rich tide of hapdiness. A mist gathers
over my eyes, and I grow dreamy; I see,
afar off, glimpses of the given pastures
my childhood knew; I hear the low gur
gle of the still waters. Hush! Speak
softly, I’m dreaming now.
A pleasant, cheerful home is mine.—
Warm kisses are pressed upon my brow
and closed eyes, arid pet names—long a
stranger to me—are' whispered in my car.
A sister’s white hand smooths the hair
from my brow; and red lips, that I fool
ishly thought I had • seen grow pale under
the kiss of., death, are prattling sweet
words close by my 'side. My precious
mother sits by the table in my home; I
had fancied I hud no home! I can see
the dear silvery hair; and the kind eyes
that 1 thought had grown dim with much
weeping, sue smiling lovingly into mine.
Somebody stands between me and the
storms of life, and . smooths the path for
my tired feet., lam not poor and lonely;
lam not jaded and weary-hearted. What
is this? a robe of sheeny satin, and gems!
—gems for me! My jaded eyes gleam
brightly : my hair has a touch of its olden
lustre, and the roses of other days arc
crimsoning my cheeks. We ate going to
the fete— somebody and I. We first visit
the' nursery, and press a kiss upon two
sleeping brows. A golden head lies pil
lowed side by side with one of darker hue;
two beautiful children that belong to some
body and I. And now we leave our home,
and the strong form is close to me yet,
guiding my footsteps lovingly. Music is
swelling around us,-and troops of friends
speak kindly as wie pass through the
crowded rooms. How could we have fan
cied they had all turned coldly from us?
—for, see! they love us now, and beckon
us to them. Jlow beautiful life is! How
bright the beaming faces around us! How
sweet the flowers’ ’ fragrance!—the busv
j:C • >
hum of voices!—the flash and gleam ot
jewels! How precious the’sense of the
sheltering care guiding us about. But
hark! What is that? A hollow cough
grates upou my car.; I start up and rub
my eyes. O, no! no! it cannot, cannot
be that this is all a dream. I turn me
round and look upon my surroundings.
Alas! the bright pageant has departed.
A little, feverish form, meets my straining
sight ; and a cough tliat sends thrills of
dread and anguish surging tlu-ough my
soul, falls upon my ear. I remember me
then, that death has robbed me of all my
dear ones but poor little Jamie. I re
member, too, J tunic’s little, worn shoes,
and see the unfinished manuscript lying
before me, that must be finished before the
coveted shoes could be bought.
So dies out many a hope and bright,
bright taunting dream. Oh! Jamie! —
Jamie!
THE HISTORY OF CROWNS,
Crowns were originally Sacred only to
tlic gods. First there was the little band
or bandelet, that fitted tight around the
heads of the ancient gods; then two strings
or fillets; then leaves and branches and
flowers; then finally the conventional
crown or circlet, uiuch as. we have it at
the present day. But' soon the emblem
of the divinities was transferred to men,
and victors and statesmen and lawgivers
and kings and heroes of all sorts, even
to a well developed athlete, were duly
crowned, until at hist the proudest of the
ridel’s adopted the rayed or spiked cx’own.
which was the last'form held peculiar by
the gods. This was in those days of de
gcnoracy when kings, pretending to bo
gods, forgot to be men. With the Jews
the original crown was pointed like horns
—horns being the emblems of power and
prowess with them; and the first mention
made of a crown in the Bible is when
the Amalekites bripg Saul’s crown to Da
vid. According to a rabbinical tradition,
Nimrod—Kcnaz, the hunter king—was
the first to imagine a Crown, and the first
to be crowned. One day, as he w r as
abroad hunting, he. looked up to the sky
and saw ; the figure of a crown in the
heavens. lie called to a craftsman, and
bade him copy the pattern—the crown
remaining long enough to enable him to
do so; and ever afterwards he wore that
crown in obedience to the will of Heaven,
and no one couhklook upon it without
blindness. VII used to
say, snceringly, in allusion to ‘ this story,
that the'priesthood.came direct from God,
hut imperial power, crow ned from Nimrod.
The “ mitre” of the Church is only the
old Jewish horn-crown, in its turn copied
frpm the Egyptian,; while the Pope’s tiara
| is the same initre triply crowned,, to mark
| him high priest, judge and supreme legis-
Ila tor of the Christian world. So was
(the king of old time ever a twofold per
j sonage—high priest and chief magistrate
!in one; and it has been an endless struggle
I hitherto to simplefyhis pretensions. This,
| too, is one of the many creaking legacies
left us by the Jews.— All the Year Hound.
O* Said a Sunday school teacher to a
playful child, “ What would you have been
witbout your pioui father and .mother?”
The little rogue replied: “I suppose ma’am,
I would have, been an orphan.
[tSDEPESDEST IX KVERYTHIXG.]
The other evening I came home with
tin extra ten dollar bill in my pocket—
money that I had earned by out of doors
work. The fact is, I’m a clerk in a down
town store, at a gallary of $6OO per an
num. and a pretty wife and baby to sup
port out of it. I.suppose this iueomc will
sound amazingly small to your two and
three'thousand dollar office-holders, but
nevertheless we contrive to live very com
fortably upon it. We live on a floor of
an unpretending'little house, for which we
pay $l5O dolars per annum, and Kitty,
my wife, you’ll 'understand, does all her
own work; so that we lay up a neat little
sum every year. I’ve got a balance of two
or' three Ixundred dollars at the savings
bank, the hoard of several years, and it is
astonishing.how rich I feed! Why, Roths
child himself isn’t a circumstance to me!
Well, I came-home with my extra bill,
and showed it triumphantly to Kitty, who
of course was delighed with my
and thrift.
“Now, my love,” said I, “just add this
to our account at the bank, and with in
terest to the end of the year.”
Forthwith I commenced existing inter
est, and calculating in my brain. Kitty
was silent, and rocked the cradle musingly
with'her foot.
“I’ve been thinking Harry,” said she,
after a moments pause, that “since you've
got this extra money, wc might afford to
buy a new rug. This is getting dreadfully
shabby, my dear, you must see.”
1 looked dolefully at the rug; it was
worn and shabby enough, that was a fact.
“ I can got a beautiful new velvet pat
tern for seven dollars,” resumed my wife.
“Velvet—seven dollars,” groaned I.
“ Well, then, a common tufted rug like
this would only cost three,” said my cau
tious better half, who, seing she couldn’t
eary her first ambitious point, wisely with
drew her guns.
“ Tint’s more sensible,” said I. “ Well,
we’ll see about it.”
“ And there’s another thing I want,”
continued my wife, putting her hand coax
ingly on my shoulder, “and it’s not at all
extravagant either.”
“ What is it 1” I asked, softening rapidly.
“I saw such a lovely silk dress pattern
on Canal street this morning, and I can
get it for six dollars, —only six dollars—
Harry! It’s the cheapest tiling I ever
saw'.”
“But havn’t you got a pretty green
silk dress?”
“That old thing! , Why, Harry, I’ve
worn it ever since we’ve been married.”
“Is it soiled, or ragged?”
“No, of course; but who want? to wear
(he same green dress forever! Everybody
knows it is the only silk dress I have.”
“Well, what then?”
“ That’s just a man’s ‘ question,” pouted
Kitty. “And I suppose you have not
observed how old-fashioned my bonnet is
getting.” .
“Why, I thought it looked very neat
and tasteful since you put on that black
velvet winter trimming.”
“Of course —you men have no taste in
such matters.”
We were silent for a moment; I’m afraid
we both felt a little cross and out of hu
mor;: with one another. In fact, on my
journey borne, I bad entertained serious
thoughts of exchanging my old silver watch
for a more modern time-piece of gold, and
had mentally appropriated the ten dollars to
further that purpose.' Savings-bank reflec
tions had come later, :
As wc sat before the fire each wrapped
in thought, our neighbor, Mr. Wilmot,
knocked at the door. He was employed
at the same store as myself, and his wife
was an old family friend.
“I want you to congratulate me,”-*be
said, taking a seat. “I have purchased
that little cottage out on the Bloomingdalc
road to-day.
“ What! that beautiful littA w'ooden
cottage with the piazza, and lawn, and
fruit garden behind ?” exclaimed Kitty
almost enviously/ ,
“Is it possible?” I cried. A little
cottage borne of my own, just like that I
had often admired on the Bloomingdalc
road, had always been the crowning am
bition of ray life—a distant and almost
hopeless point, but no less earnestly de
sired-
“Why, Wilmot,” said I, “Low did this
happen? You’ve only been in business
eight or ten years longer than, I, at a sal
aiy but a trifle larger than-mine, yet I
could as soon buy the mint as purchase a
cottage like that.”
“Well," said my neighbor “we have
all been working to this end for years.—
My wife has darned, patched, mended and
saved—wc have livied on plain fare, and
done with the cheapest tilings. But the
magic charm of „the whole affair was that
we laid aside every penny that was not
needed by actual, positive want. Yes, I
have seen my wife lay by red coppers, one
by one.”
,“Tunes are hard you know, just now;
the owner was not what yon call an econ
omical man, and he was glad to sell at a
HOW TO EAEN A HOME.
A STOEY FOE II.VT.D TIMES,
moderate price. So you see that even
“ hard times” have helped me!”
When our neighbor was gone, Kitty and
I looked meaningly at one another.
“ Harry,” said she, “ the rug isn’t bad
after all, and my green silk will do a year
longer with, care.” “And a silver watch
is quite as good for all practical purpososj
as a gold repeater,” said I. “Wc will soi
aside all imaginary wants.”
“The ten dollar bill must go to the
bank,” said Kitty, “ and I’ll economise the
coppers just as Sirs. Wilmof did. Oh,
how happy she-will be among the roses in
that cottage garden next spring!” •
Our merry tea-kettle sung us a cheerful
song over the glowing tire that night, and
its burden was “Economy and a home of
opr own amid the roses and the country
air.”
. - -4 ■
DOH’T GET DISCOURAGED.'
Don’t get discouraged! Whoevei gained
anything by drawing down the corners bf
his mouth when a cloud came over the
sun, or letting his heart drop like ,a lead-;
weight into his shoes when misfortune
came upon him ? Why,, man, if the worht
knocks you down jostles past yog in
great race, don’t sit whining under people’s
feet, but get up, rub your elbows, and be
gin again. There ore some people who
even to look at is worse than a dose of
chamomile tea. What if you do happen
to be a little puzzled on the dollar and
cent question ? Others besides you have
stood in exactly the Same spot, and strug
gled bravely out of it, and you are neither
halt, lame nor blind, that you can do like
wise ! The weather may be dark and
rainy—very weH; laugh between the drops
and think cheerily of the blue, sky and sun
shine that will surely come to-morrow!
Business may be dull; make the best of
what you have, and look forward to some?
thing more hopeful. If you catch a fall,
don’t lament over your braise, but be
thankful that no bones are broken. ; If you
can’t afford roast beef and plum pudding?,
eat your codfish joyfully and bless your
stars for the indigestion and dyspepsia you
thereby escape 1 But the moment you be-;
giu to look over your troubles.and count
up the calamities you may as well throw
yourself over the wharfs and be done with
it. The luckiest fellow that ever lived,
might have woes enough, if he set himself
seriously to work looking them up. They
are like invisible specks of dust; you don’t
sec ’em till you put on your spectacles to
discover what is a great- deal better let
alone.
Dont*get discouraged, little wife ! Life
is not long enough tp spend in inflaming
your eyes and reddening your nose because
the pudding won't bake, and your husband
says the .new shirts you worked over so long
“set like bags.” Make another pudding
—begin the shirts anew! Don’t - feel
“down in the mouth” because the dust
will settle, and clothes will wear out, and
crockery will get broken. Being a woman
don’t procure you an exemption from
trouble and care; you have got to fight
the battle of life as well as your
and it will never do to give up without a
bold struggle. Take things as they come,
good and bad together, and when you feel
inclined to cry, just changc your mind and
laugh; never turn a blessing around to see
if it has got a dark side to it, and 1 always
take it for granted that things are blessings
until they prove to be something else.—
Never allow yourself to get discouraged,
and you’ll find the world a pretty conifori
table sort of place after all.
A Sailou’s Yatcj.— -Jack Brace tells the
following story in the Boston Journal: On
the passage, last Summer, of the ship Comet
from San Francisco to New York, a mis
chievous sailor lad, the captain's appren
tice, for some'practical joke on the cooper*
was headed up by that personage in an
empty water-cask on deck. Suddenly
there came on a blow, and, in a severe
lurch, the cask containing the boy rolled
over into the sea. The circumstance was
not noticed by those on board. ■ Fortu
nately the cask struck bimg up, and floated
about thirty hours, when it was thrown
upon the beach oil the coast ot New Jer
sey. Here the boy made desperate efforts
to extricate himself from his prison with
out success, and, in despair, gave up to
die. Some con's,’ however, strolling on
the beach, were attracted to the cask, and
in walking around it, one • came so near
that the boy put his hand out of the bung
hole and seized her tail, which he instantly
drew into the hole, and held on with both
hands. The cow bellowed and ran for
dear life, and after running some two hun
dred yards with the cask, struck it against
a rode on the beach, and knocked it, as
we may say, into a cocked hat. The Ifoy
thus providentially released, was disopt
ered by some fishermen and taken care of
until he Was sent to New York. -
When you doubt between two words,
choose the plainest, the commonest, the
most idiomatic. Eschew fine words as
you would a rogue.; love simple ones as yOu
would native rpses on your checks. Let
us use the plainest and shortest words that
will grammatically and gracefully express
our meaning, -
EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS, i
SINGULAR WAS INCIDENT
- The Lynchburg Republican publishes the
following incident, remarkable alike for
its singularity, as well as for its melan
choly fulfillment to the brother of one of
the parties concerned:' Just before tho
■war broke out, and before Lincoln’s proc
lamation was issued, a young Virginian
named Summerfield, was visiting the city
of New York where he iftade the acquain
tance of two Misses Holmes of Water
bary, Vermont. He became somewhat
intimate with the young ladies, and the
intercourse seemed to be mutually agreea
ble. The proclamation was issued, and
the whole North thrown into a blaze of
excitement. On Visiting the ladles one
evening, at the hour of parting they re
marked that their present meeting would
probably be their last; they must hurry
home to aid in making up the overcoats
ahd clothing for the volunteers from their
town. Summerfield expressed his regret
that they must leave, but at the same
tiinc'especially requested them to see that
the overcoats were well made, as it was
his intention,.if he ever mpt.thc Vermont
regiment in buttle, to kill 6uc of them and
take his coat.
Now for the sequel. Virginia seceded.
The Second Vermont regiment, a portion
of which was from the town of Water
bary, was sent to Virginia. The battle
of Manassas was fought, in which they
were .engaged, and so was Sununerfield.-—»
During the battle, Summerfield marked
his man, not-, knowing to what State ho
belonged; the fatal ball was: sped on its
errand of death; the victim fell at the
flash of the gun, and, 1 upon rushing up to
secure the dead man’s arms, Summerfield
observed that he had a fine new overcoat
strapped to his back, wjpeh he determined
to appropriate to his own use. The fight
was oyer, and Sumiuerlield had time to
examine his prize, when- remarkable as it\
may appear, the coat was marked with
the name of Thomas Holmes, and in the
pockets were found letters signed with the
names of the sisters whom Summerfield
had known l in New York, and to whom
he had made the remark we have quoted,
in Avhicli the dead man was addressed as
brother. The evidence was conclusive—-
he had killed the brother of his friends,
and the remark which he had made in
jest had a melancholy fulfillment. We
are assured this narrative is literally true,
Summerfield now wears the coat, and, our
informant states, is not a little impressed
with the singularity of the incident.
DEATH OF PEINCE ALBEBT.
Prince Albert, the husband of Queen
Victoria, whose death occurred rather sud
denly on Sunday, the loth ult., in London,
of gastric fever, was born at Rosenau, on
the 26th of August, 1819. He was tlie
jecond son of Ernest, Quke of Saxe Co
nui-g Gotha, under whose immediate per
sonal superintendence he received an ad
mirable education, which he completed by
attending the University of Bonn, during
three academical seasons. In July, 1838,
he visitted England, in company with Leo
pold, King of Belgium, and spent some
time at the court of the youthful queen,
and in November, 1839, it was formrlly
announced to the privy council, by the
Queen, that she intended to form a matri
monial alliance with Prince Albert. The
secret had long been public property*’ but
was kept in suspense by the decorous con
tradictions of the ministerial journals. , The
marriage was solemnized Feb.: 10, 1810/
For the purpose of rendering him perfect
ly independent, the munificent personal al
lowance of $150,000 a year was made to
him by Parliament. Beside which lie was
a field-marshal, Knight of the Gartcf, and
other orders, coltticl of the Fusilier Guards,
and held a number of other lucrative or
honorary appointments. He was a man of
refined taste, and an accomplished musician
and draughtsman. Forbidden by his po
sition from interfering in politics, he ocou
pied himself with superintending the edu
cation of his children. The progress of
tlie arts and sciences, and general philan
thropic subjects, such as the “dwellings!
of the working classes,” sanitary arrange
ments, &c., also engaged his attention.—
He was patron and president of numerous
charitable institutions, in which he took
a personal interest. As President of the
Society of Arts, he was the chief promo
ter of the great exhibition of 1851. He
was noted, in a country of scientific agri
culturists, for tlie spirit with wblch he
carried out agricultural experiments, and
his fanning stock has been frequently ex
hibited, and gained prizes. As a patron
. of art, Prince^Albert has shown himself
particularly active. .' < > ■’V : iv
' Unwritten ; Poetuy.— Jt is stopped
upon the bmul blue twinkles'in
ctery star^—-it niingles in the
and slitters in the dew. drop that ams ife
Ulysbell. It glows'in the gorgoopsajlpci
of the decline of dny> and w’ thh
blackened crest of the gathmag
cloud.. It is in the mountain’Sl^^rtiqid
In the rataraci’s
oak, and in the
can see the ’ pf Uwi
finds her dwelling-puce. 1 - \
NO. 48.