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JIcCRUM & BERN*,
VOL. 7,- -
THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE.
b B. 3lcCßUil«~
pTOUtIICES ASP P&OPWXTOJW,
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CHURCHES, MINISTERS, AC.
PRESBYTERIAN—IU'». B.ixss. Pwtor—Pruivclilng:
every SaltUtU morning at 11 o'clock, and in the evening
T o’clock. Prayer Meeting in tbe Lecture Room every
ITednMiiav evening at 7 o’clock. Sabbath School in same
room at i'A o’clock in the morning.
’ MKTIIODISt EPISCOPAL—Rev. W. Lie Spotswood.
Tutor —Preaching every Sihbath morning at 11 o'clock,
and in the evening at f o’clock. Prayer Meeting in the
Lecture Koom even Wednesday evening at 7 o clock.—
Sabbath School in tire same room at 2 o’clock P. M.
EVANGELICAL LUTHERAN —Bev. C. L. F,nnE>vrEU>.
Tutor —Preaching every Sabbath morning at 11 o’clock,
and in the evening at 7 o’clock. Prayer Meeting in the
Lecture Room every Wednesday evening at 7 o’clock;—
Sabbath School in same room at 9 o’clock A. M. *
BAPTIST—Rev. A. 11. Sehbokee, Paator.—Preaching
tverv Sabbath morning at 11 o'clock, and in the eveiilngat
7 o'clock. Prayer Meeting every Wednesday evening at
7 o'clock. Sabbath School at 9 o'clock A. M.
UNITED BRETHREN —Rev. Sajicii. Kephaet. Pastor.
Preaching every Sabbath morning at 11 o’clock, audin the
ereningat 7 o'clock. Prayer Meeting in the Lecture Room
every Wednesday evening at 7 o'clock. Sahbatn School in
the Bamc room aIS o'clock in the morning.
PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL—(So regular Pastor.)—
Pinching on Sabbath morning- at 11 o’clock, and in the
ereningat' o’clock. Prayer Meeting every Wednesday
evening at 7 o'clock. Sabbath School at V o’clock A..M.
ENGLISH CATHOLIC-Rov. Jon* Tcmc, Pastor—Di
vine services every Sabbath morning at IhU o’clock and
in the afternoon at 3 o'clock. Sabbath School at 2 J clock
la tbe afternoon,
GERMAN CATHOLIC—Rev. , Pastor.
—Dlrioe services every Sabbath morning: at o’clock,
and in the afternoon at 3 o’clock. . Sabbath School'at 1
e.’clock In the afternoon.
AFRICAN METHODIST— Rot. Alkxa.ni) si; Jqhxston,
Paitor.—Preaching every Fourth Sabbath in each month.
Prayer Meeting every Friday evening at 7 o’clock. Sab
bath School at ‘-t o’clock in the afternoon.
RAIL ROAD SCHEDULE.
OS AND AFtSK MONDAY, JAN. 27, 1862, TRAINS
will Arrive at aud leave Altoona Station as follows:
H*i<rcu Train East arrives 9,35 P. 31., leaves 9.05 P.M
“ “ rfeit “ 8.20 A. M. •■ 8,40 A. M
FMt “ Kilt “ 7,40 A.M. “ 7,55 A.l!
“ “ Veit , 8,55 I'.-M.j “ 9.10 P.M
Mail “ K««t “ 11.60 A.M., 12. ii:, F. M
“ “ Wait “ 3,15 P. M-, “ 3,30 P. M'
The nOLLIDATSBURG BRANCH conn. cts with Ex
prow Train We*t, aud Fast Line and Mai! Train Uaet and
INDIANA BRANCH TRAINS connect with Mail train
and Jobuitown,Accommodation £n«t and West, Express
West, and wldi Local Freight'*.
ENOCH LEWIS, C,rn'l Suyt.
MAILS CLOSE AND OPEN.
HnlUdayshurg.. .. 8.16 A. M. A 11 15 A. M.
Western Through 3 10 A. 5J-
Eastern Through ‘..j..; 8 20 “
Western Vif 4-, 11 22 A. M,
Eastern Way .; 1 55 P.M.
Orrics Hocsbduring the week, from 0 45 a. m. till
7 00 p. jL On Sundays; from 7 45 till 9 00 a.m. .
QEO. W. PATTON P. M
MEETINGS OF ASSOCIATIONS.
MOCNTAINiDODGE, K 0.231. A. Y. M., meets on wmiui
Tuf«.!»r of ouch month, *t 7Vj o’clock P. M.. in the third
«orj of the Masonic Tmj.plo.
MOCNTAIXIR. A. CHAPTER. No. 189 R. A. 0., meets
f n the first Thursday of each month, at'7 o'clock P. M.,
hi %ame room tin above. *
MOUNTAIN COUNCIL. No.fl, R.AS.if., meets on the
first Monday of each month, at o'clock P. M.. in same
rtKim as above.:
MOUNTAIN: COMMANDERY, No. 10, K. T. meets on
the fourth Tuesday of each month, at 7% o'clock P.M.,
In same room its above. j ** N
ALTOONA LOQOK. No. 473, T. 0. of 0.-F- meets every
Friday evening, at o’clock, In the second .story of the
VERANDA LOffQE, No. 532. 1.0. of 0. F.. meets every
Tuesday evening, at 7 14 o’clock.ia third story of Patton's
Building, on Virginia street.
WINNEBAGO TRIBE, No. 35, I. 0. R. M., meets every
Tuesday evening In the second story of Masonic Temple.
Council fire kindled at 7th run 30th breath.
ALTOONA DIVISION, No. 311, 8. of T., meets every
-sturdily evening, at 7 o’clock, lu the second story of the
Governor—Andrew Q, Curtin. -
Acretary „f state— Ell Slifrr.
Attorney General—' William M. Meredith.
Auditor General—' Thomas E. Cochran.
Survtyor Ocrwtral—William L. Wright.
Adjutant General— E. M. Biddle.
Mate Irtdfurer—. Henry D. Moore.
BLAIR COUNTY OFFICERS.
Judgaof the Owrt».-Pr«ul«nt Judge, Hon George Tat
lor. A wocUt**,'Samuel Denn. Adam Moses.
«Smo/or—Hon. Lewis W. Hall.
Anthony S. Morrow,
rnid BetJortLrr—Hugh A. Caldwell.
‘r?- e T^r S^,nael McCanmnt. Deputy—John Marks,
Benjamin L. Uowit,
“^o B M™KiBU^ r ‘~ QejrgC L ‘ C 0W “’ G6or * ! K<wn >
o>un(jt S«rr<3ror4-Jameß I. Owin.
ijrasurer —J'ohni McKcage.
AaSf iHrf '! t(, '’- peter Good . WillUm Burley, Barid
-ludtfm-.A. M. Lloyd, Kobt. M. Mee.imor, L.L.
2™>rr~A-J- Freeman. ,
“‘iwinfewfenio/omuuon &ioe£i—John Mltcljoll.
ALTOONA BOROUGH OFFICERS.
M ’ Cb ° try ’ John midland.
r ”tSwS > | U 'lwr A ' *■ *®yth. Daniel Baughman, John Me-
CVI tl n?' R - J. Mervine.
<s«*«a-*B. M. Woodkok.
n.» r ?Jf ;^‘eojwer— Daniel Langhman.
B -*» mer . John Shoemaker, J.B.
TV, Hoyden, Jamaa Lowther, E. A. Back.
Birin??'***? 1 »*rd~, J. B. Hfleman.
v ■““*«» OataUy, Banugh and School Bit—Joa.
« “ ! Weal Ward—John t. Piper.
W,,,, _ .l_ s orth Ward—Chrlatian.Whlitlar.
JC Green., John Hooper.
7^PS nl -J- *• Ballman..Robt. Pitcairn..
Wari-BobtJ McComlak. John Condo.
,n. C. DEBJf,
* But I thought that bohcare&an anxious sigh,
As he saw that the river ran broad and high.
And looked rather surprised as, one- by one,
The Psalms and Hymns in the waves went down.
if - •
And after him, with his MSS.^'
Como Wesley, the pattern of godliness,
But he cried, “ Dear me, what shall I do?
The water has soaked them through and through.**
ll no A. M.
S 00 A. M. k 11 00 A. M.
7 00 P. 51
Among the most vivid recollections of
my pariy boyhood, are those of rum
bles I ; used to take with one or two juve
nile cronies among the overhanging paths
and quail-haunted cedar Woods of the Mis
sissippi bluffs, above Alton, In the large
and lively State of Illinois.
I doubt whether I should.recognizc those
scenes, if suddenly set down there to-day;
for the march of dvilLw&on Ijas passed
that way, and left very few of the ancient
landmarks I knew and loved twelve years
ago. There arc railroads, long street,
piles of warehouses, mills atid stores, in
Alton, now, which hare all sprtmg dp
NO SECT IN HEAVEN.
Talking of wets till Utc oue ©to?
Of the various doctrines the saints believe,
That night 1 stood, In a troubled dream,
- By the side of a darkly flowing stream. '
And a M Churchman** down to the rivet came,
When I heard a strange voice call bis name—
l;oood father, stop; when yoo cross this tide,
You must leave your robes on the other side.”
But the aged father did not mind,
And his long gown floated out behind,
As |down the stream liis way he took,.
His pale bonds clasping a gilt-edged book.
“I'm bound for Heaven, and when I’m there,
J shall want my book of Common Prayer i
And though I pot on a starry crown,
I sht'uid ieel quite lost witlront my gown."
Than ho fixed his eye on the shining track.
But his gown was heavy, and held him back,
And the poor old father tried In vain, ,
A single step in the flood to gain.
Isaw him again on the other aide, .
But hla silk gown floated on the tide;
And no one asked in that bllasfal spot,
Whether he belonged to “tht Church” or not.
Then down to the river a Quaker strayed,
His dress of a sober huo was mad©; '
“My coat and pants must all ho of gray,
I cannot go any other way/’ •
Then he buttoned bis coat straight up to bis cbin,
And staidly, solemnly, waded in,
Ami Ms btdad-brimmed bat he pullcddown tight
Over his forehead so cold and whlttlT- '
But a strong vyind carried awoy his hat;
A moment be silently sigbed aver that,
And then, as ho gazed to tbe further sjioro,
UU coat slipped off and was seen no more.
As he entered Heaven, his suit of gray
Went quietly sailing—away—away, ! .
And pone of tbo angels questioned him
About the width of his beaver's brim.
Next came Dr. Watts with a bundle of Psalms
Tied up nicely In hisagod arms,
And hymns os many—a very wise thing—
That the people in Heaven t; all round'* might sing.
And there on the river,,far and wide,
Away they went, down the swollen tide,
And the saint astonished passed through alone,
Without his manuscripts, up to the ihconA
Then gravely walking, two saints by name,
Down to the streaks together came,
Bat as they stopped at the river’s brink,
I saw one saint from the other shrink.:
"Sprinkled or plunged, way I aek you, friend,
How yon attained to life’s grout end ?” y
“Thus, with a few drops bn my brow.’?
But / have been dipped, ns you'll set iha now.
“And. I really think it will hardly do. :
As l*m ‘close communion,* tacross with you; x
You're bound, I know, to the realms o[f bliss,
lint you must go that way and I’ll go shie,”
Then straightway plnnglng with all his might.
Away to the left—his friend at the right;
Apart they went from this world of sin,
But at last together they entered in.
And now. when the river was rolling bn,
A Presbyterian church .came down;
Of women there seemed an Innumerable throng,
But the men I could count as they pawed along.
And concerning the road they could never agree,
The old or the new way. which it could bo,
Nor ever a moment paused to think
That.both would lead to the river’s brink.
And a sound of murmuring long and loud
'■> Camo ever up from the moving crowd—
“ You’re in the old way,' and I’m in the new.
That is the false, and this is the true,”—
Or, 4 * I’m In the old way, and you’re in thenew.
That is the false, and this is the true.”
But the Irtthrtn only, seemed to speak,
Jlodest the sisters walked* and meek.
! And if eyer one of them chanced to say
' WHat troubles she met with on the way,
How she longed to pass to the other side,
Nor feared to cross over the swelling tide,
A voice arose from the brethren then
“ Let no one speak but the holy men:
For have jo not hoard the words of Paul,
4 Oh, let the women keep silence alt?’ » '
T watched them long In my curious dream.
Till they stood by the borders of the stream. «-
Then, just as rthought, the two ways met,
Bn tall the brethren wore talking yet,
And tronld talk on. till the hearing tide
Carried them over, side by side; '
Side by aide, for the way was one,
The toilsome journey of life was done,
And all who in Christ the Saviour died.
Came out alike on the other aide.
No forms, or crosses, or books, had they,
No gowns of silk, or suits of gray, :
No breeds to guide them, or MSB.,
Jorall had put on Christ’s righteousness.’’
THE PIASA HIED.
AN INDI.VN - LEGEND.
BY MOX'SIEUR I.E COr'T E t R
ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 1862.
since I loft there; and the very bluffs
themselves have been quarried away for
their excellent limestone, till the “oldest
inhabitant” would scarcely know them,.
But when I was a half-fledged back
woodsman, given to shooting, riding, nut
ting and bushwhacking generally, the bluffs
were quite a splendid affair. Tlicy ex
tended some miles along the northern bank
of the river, a solid, perpendicular wall
of white limestone below, some hundred
or two hundred feet in height, crowned
above by lofty mounds of grass-grown soil,
terraced by rains and storms, thinly dot
ted with oak and cedar, and surrounded
by a narrow tortuous foot-path, or “ trail,”
that ran along the very brink of the sheer
precipice. Far below, a rocky shore di
vided the waters of the Mississippi from
this natural river wall, and the toothed
boulders and jagged masses of limestone
that strewed the margin, made'a glance
from the top still more dizzy and tumble.
I remember that one lofty point, just
beyond the old steam mill, bore the name
of “Seaman’s Leap,” An unhappy man,
who had long been embittered by matri
monial difficulties; found existence too
heavy to bear, and, one day, threw him
self from this elevation upon the murder
ous stones beneath. His name—Seaman
r—attached itself, ever after, to the scene
of the tragedy.
But this was not tlic most interesting
portion of the bluffs, to me, tiiough 1
never passed it without a quick glance
from pinnacle to base, and a cold shudder.
The cave of the “Piasa Bird,” and the
Indian painting of that strange myth on
the smooth face of the cliff, midway be
tween top and bottom, w'ere the objects
that most deeply fascinated my youthful
My earliest remembrances of the bluffs
are, that there were a great many works
of aboriginal art upon them. There were
huge targets, rings and balls’ eyes, at which
the Piasa Indhfiis used to shoot from their
canoes. There were hands painted' by
dipping one's hand in a pot of Vermillion
and pressing the palm against the rock.
Some of these were ’ thirty or forty feet
from the bottom, and the adventurous
artist who executed them must have been
the apex of a human pyramid, whose parts
stood with their feet upon each other’s
Lastly, there was a picture of the bird
itself; a sprawling monster, with dragon's
wings, deer’s horns, and u serpent's tail.
It was much dimmed and defaced by the
weather, but co.uhl be tolerably well made
out, within my recollection. The labors
of thb quarrymen, however, have obliter
ated j all ’ these meinentocs of barbarism,
years ago, and the traveler on the Missis
sippi may look in vuin for any of the Ver
million stains that I recall so vividly.
Of the Biasa tribe of Indians, not one
is left. They were exterminated by the
small pox and wars with other tribes, at
about the time, I think, of tlie admission
of Illinois as a State. There is a stream
emptying into the river at Alton, called
Biasa Creek, and there was once a hotel
there called Biasa House, but no further
souvenirs of these “First Families” re
mained, save the bluff paintings, and count
less arrow beads, some, of them beautifully
symmetrical, that were turned up by the
plow on the farms thereabout. One field
of my father’s estate was sprinkled very
plentifully with the heads of the barbed
war-arrows, at a few inches below, the
surface. It had, undoubtedly been the
scene of soine aboriginal Waterloo.
But the tradition; of the Piasa Bird re
mained, and was known to all the early
settlers in Alton. : 1 imagine that it has
been nearly forgotten,, by this time, for
Alton is a flourishing entrepot and the
spirit of railroading is inimical to the spirit
of legendary lore. StiH, there are, un
doubtedly, some who will recollect the old
Story-, and reading it here, will be glad to
see it rescued from oblivion.
Bald Eagle, the grim and grizzled old
chief of the Piasa tribe, walked up and
ddwn before the lodge, hiding his face in
his blanket, and silently communing with
’Within, twelve of the women, dishev
eled and in mourning-paint, Kit rocking to
and fro, shrilly chanting the death-song.
Hie braves lay asleep iji their lodges,
or squatting about in groups, sullenly mut
tered monosyllabic remarks to each other.
Thin columns of smoke ascended from a
few tents here: and there, where the old.
women cooked the venison slain the day
before, but the sign? of sorrow were more
numerous than-the signs of life in the Fi
As Bald Eiigle strode gloomily, up and
down, there came to him Black Feather,
the strongest and moat courageous warrior
of the tribe; a young man, but already
high in honor and respect, loved by hisr
friends and dreaded hy his enemies.
“A brave man died last night,” said
Black Feather, abruptly.
“And one the night before,” replied the
chief, without pausing in his walk or un
covering his fedo.
“ Our wotoca must, kill the bison, next
season,” said the young warrior; “our
lodges will be empty of braves, and the
[IOTETEKDEST IS feVKKYTHISG.]
bears and the deers may come and laugh
at us.” i
“The Great Spirit wishes us evil,” said
Bald Eagle, stopping, and raising his arm
toward heaven. “ Who will go next ? A
brave every night! Our lodges will be
empty, indeed!” 1
“Black Feather’s heart never heals fas
ter or slower,” replied the young man;
he does not know what fear is! If the
Great Spirit wants him, he can smile as
“ And Red Sunrise—”
The warriors countenance expressed
“She is only a woman,” he said, at
length, resuming his usual solidity.
Bed Sunrise was the handsomest of all
the Piasa women, and the most sought in
marriage. She was the only daughter of
Bald Eagle, and had been lie trot bed to
Black Feather only after he had presented
her father with a hundred scalps, inclu
ding those of three of her other suitors.—
This delicate proof of sincerity and cour
age had overcome all the chiefs objections,
and he had gladly consented to the cere
mony of betrothal.
Bald Eagle mused awhile upon Blady
Fealher's words. Then he turned sud
denly and raid:
“What shall we do?”
The young man was silent
“For ten nights,” continued the chief,
“ has the Bird devoured one of our num
ber every night. Ten good and bravo
warriors. The women cry and moan all
the day long. The men lose their spirit,
and care no longer to follow the war-path
or the trail of the deer. lam old land used
to storms, but I feci bowed down. The
Gifcat spirit is offended.”
“I know dll this,” said Black Feather,
moodily; “but what can we dot What
do the medicine-men ray ?”
“ They say that the Bird is a bad man
itqu, that dwells in a cave on the bluffs.
It devours our , bravos, nightly, till the
Great Spirit’s anger is appeased. When
will that be? I low many lodges will be
silent?” ' . -
The two men parted asSthcy had met,
gloomy, wondering and fparing foi the
future. All day the woinea cried and
chauntcd the song of mourning. All day
the warriors lay listlessly about the tents,
and whon night closed in, each ; went to
sleep marvelling if lie should he the next
victim to the cruel rapacity of the manitou.
. The brother of Kcd Sunrise, youngest
son of Bald Eagle, was the victim. His
canoe was seen at nightfall, wending its
way up the river from one of the islands
below, where he had been to hunt wild
turkeys. The morning showed the frail
shell, crushed and blood-stained, lying up
on the rocks at the foot of the bluff. Bed
Sunrise wept with the bitterness of despair,
and her old father bowed bis bead in deep
er gloom than ever.
Then he summoned all the braves of the
tribe about him. '
“Brothers," said he, “I am old, and
my bones are tired. 1 can follow the trail
no longer as I used to, and my arm is weak
to strike our foes. But the Great Spirit
has given me power of sight in dreams.—
Last night He came to me and talked our
tongue as I'talk to you. He told me how
to appease the Bird that is destroying our
tribe, and desolating our lodges.”
A'scrics of dccply>guttural ejaculations
expressed the gratification which this an
“ There must be one more victim.' The
bravest warrior of our race mast volunta
rily offer himself to the manitou this night,
and end the .devastation. Who will go
alone to the bluffs at sunset and never re
Black Feather sprang forward.
“T will go,” flic said, “my heart never
beats quicker- or slower. I know not what'
fear is. Lot me be the last 'victim, and
save my tribe I”
Nino others claimed the honor of offer
ing themselves, and disputes arose.
“Peace!” said old Bald Eagle, “Black
Feather spoke first. If ye wanted to be
the victims, why did ye not come forward
at once ? No, he is the bravest among ye
all. Let him be the most honored.”
Red Sunrise mourned with double des
peration when she learned her lover’s de
termination, and implored him to allow
another to take his place; but he: listened
At sunset he went forth from the village,
where every heart lamented while blessing
him. In war-paint and full costme, he
looked more the brave and warrior than
ever, and the nine whdsxad offered to sacri
fice themselves were pqprfitted to escort him
with triumphal songs to the loneliest point
of the bluffs, near the manxtou’s cave.
There they left him, standing dark and
alone, against the sullen red sky of the
•The light faded. The gray dude settled
upon the hills, the wide, smooth river, and
the Ion", low stretch of woods upon the
Missouri shore. The great white stars
came out one by one, and gleamed in troub
lous reflection from the dart water. The
owl cried from the cedars near, and the
teUydia sadly replied, but no other sound
greeted the ear of Black Feather.
When all was dark, a low, rustling flap
among- the miss about the mouth ofulm
cave Attested; the of the I’iasa
Bird, and ipunediately sdler a spectral
shape, indefinite but horrible, beat the tur
with gigantic wings, and rushed forth into
the night. :
Black Feather knew that his hour had
come. He commended himself to the care
of the Great; Spirit, and prayed Him to
watch over liis poof betrothed, widowed
even before she was a wife.
Then, folding his arms, he stood upright
and cahn. A rushing sound- met his ears
—a shrill scream—and the bird descended
like a torrent!
At the instant the rocky blnfis resound
ed to the-eeho of thc Fiiwa- wiir-whoop, [«■'
flight of sharp arrows clefts the air, and
down rolled the hideous monster, .pierced
through and through by tcu« unerring
The nine friends of Black Feather, who
had escorted him, led by iheir old chief,
had concealed themselves in a thicket near
by instead of returning to the village, arid
had awaited the swoop of the bird, with
bow-strings drawn. Their aim laid been
sure, and the evil manitou now groveled
and shrieked its hateful life but upon the
jagged rocks far beneath.
“ You are saved, O my son,” said Bald
“And 1 thank the Great Spirit, and
you, my father!” said Bl.ock Feather.
So thus tiie warrior-was Spared, and the
tribe rescued from its certain doom. The
tradition goes no further; but I am sorely
warranted in believing that Bed Sunrise
became the happy partner of Black Feath
er, and that he was chief of the tribe after
Bjdd Eagle's dedth, when he painted a
crude image of the -Piasa Bird upon the
face of the cleft, and had every warrior
who passed up or down the river, discharge
an arrow at it, to commemorate the strange,
A FREHCH STORY.
In 17G9 as a gentleman was pjissinglafe
one night over Pont Ncuf, Paris, with a
lantern, a man came up to him and said:
“ Bead this paper.” He held up his lan
tern and read as follows:
“ Speak not a word when this you've read.
Or in an instant you'll be dead !
Give us your money, watch and rings,
With other valuable things—
Then quick, in silence, you depart.
Or I, with knife, will cleave your heart!”
Not, being a man of much pluck the af
frighted gentleman gave up his watch and
money-, and ran off He soon gave the
alarm and the highwayman was arrested!
“ What have you to say for yourself!’’
inquired the magistrate before whom the
robber was arraigned. ,
“That I am not guilty of robbery,
though I took the watch and money-.” ‘
“ Why'not guilty ?” asked the magis
“Because I can neither read non write.
I picked that up just at the moment I met
this gentleman with a lantern. Thinking
it might be something valuable, I politely
asked him to read it for me. He complied
with my request, and presently handed
me his watch ami purse and ran off I
supposed the paper to be of great value to
him, and that he thus liberally rewarded
me for finding it. He gave me no time
to return thanks, which act of politeness
I am ready to' perform.” ■
The gentleman accepted the plea of the
robber gnd withdrew his complaint.
A Good Joke aix Ar.or.XD.—There is :
a quaint humor attached to somebody con
nected with The Rochester Express, that,
breaks out in spots occasionally in that
Shcpt, as witness the following: V
“ A gentleman (whose name we suppress
for ‘obvious reasons,’)! while returning
home witlrbis family purchases on Satur- :
day evening, stepped into an oyster saloon
on Main Street, to refresh himself with a
stew.- While thus engaged, a friend whq
had followed him in, abstracted from bis
groceries a package containing a ponnd of
ground coffee, and having' emptied it, re
tilled the paper with saw-dust, and restored
it to its original place. The mistake was:
•not (jiscovcped xmtil the followiixg morn
ing, when-the wife of the injured man
prepared fib breakfast. Laboring under
the misapprehension that the grocer had
swindled him, the husband peturned tho
saw-dust in the- morning, and indignantly
demanded, mid finally x-eccived, its equiv
alent in Old Java. The unhappy grocer;
who b notoriously subject to tits of ‘ abseni
mindedness,’ declared most solemnly that
it was unintentional, and that really, if
was a littld fixe worst mistake he ©voir
comxmttcdl .What renders this transacf,
tion still mippq perplexing is, that ‘for the
life of him he can’t x-emember where he got
the satc-dust.’ ”
“ Husband, do you believe in special
judgments of Providence upon mdfriduals
in this life ?” r 1 • . r . • :
“Yes, my dear.”
“Do yo% indeed? Did one of thejudg
ments ever happen to you?” ;
“Yes,love” ■' : V;
“ Whon iivas it, my hudkindT’ '*•' ‘J 1 *
•* W'hen I marmed you, my dear.” ’
EDITORS A&D PSOPHIEIOS9r
HOW 10 WHITE TO BOLHIER^..
1- Write often- They ere lonely Vf^
homesick many times, and a letter firop v *
friend will “ do them good like a medicine ”
If fathers and mothers, brothers and sts-"'
tors, could see them gathering, with ■
ions and expectant faces, around the Post
man, they would not let a week pass with
2. Write cheerfully. The soldier has
his cares and trials. He needs encourage*
mient and sympathy. It will do no good
taTfill your letters with all that is sad in,
the facts around you, or in your feelings.
Fling every streak of sunshine that you can
upon your letters, and the soldier’s heart
will blesj you.
3. Direct your letter plainly—putting
on it the name of the soldier and his Cap
tain, and the name and number of the regi
ment, as well as where you suppose the
regiment to be. Ip an army a man is
known literally “by his company,” and
thousands of letters are lost because the
writer supposed that in« groat camp o(
20,000 men his friend John Smith, or
whatever the name may be, is as weft
known and as easily found ns he was in
the little village at home. •»'
4. Write about particulars, We have
enough of Generah here. Tell ua how
many kittens fumble over the floor; how
many calves bawl at the barn; whether
Towser’s sore foot is well yet or not; what
kind of: a dress little Mary baa got; who
took sister Ann sleigh riding last snow;
and above all, who goes home from sing*
ing school with ; of course we~
won’t mention her name, but you onghtto
do so, just as if you didn’t know anythfaftf
about it. And don’t forget to speak of ,
church and Sabbath schools, prayer
ings, and what you talk about Sabbath
evenings, and what new hymns you sing. : -
A whirlpool, some three huodceSl
and sixty feet in diameter, has been formed
in the sea near Torre del Greco, by the
late eruption of Vesuvius. The Soundihg
gave twenty-three fathoms of water, mrf'
the plummet brought up sulphur. From '
a part of the circumference, a tail, so too
call it, about sixty feet in width, cunsr
away in the direction of Sorrciitb, andls’
of a beautiful light green color. All the'
water here was tepid, had a strong sul
phureous smell, and many fish have been
destroyed. The eruption of Vesuvius ap
pears to be increasing at latest dates in*,
stead of subsiding. There are eleven cra
ters above Terre del Greco, all emitting
sulphureous vapors, and tbe largcst is from
seventy to eighty feet deep and one Hun*
dred feet wide. From this- point, after,
heavy rumblings and hcaving of the sur
face, Hie ground was split open and a fiery
fisurc was made almost to the outskirts df
the city, through which the dread unseat,
power passed, opening the streets And lay
ing hare spine parts of the former buried'
town, and then running fin to the sea.—
Strangers are coming from all parts of
Europe to Naples, to behold Vesuvius in
its glorious burning and devastating auger.
«rMy friend lives three miles from the -
Post Office; and one stormy night hjst
Winter he told the help to harness the
horse, go down to the office and see what
was there in his box, giving him the num
ber. In due time Jerry returned, and
putting up his horse, made his appear
ance at the library door of Mr. C— -j.
who, sitting in gown and slippers,Was pa--
tichtly waiting the arrival of the mail.
“ Well, Jerry, what was there for me 1”
“ Two letters and a paper, sir.”
“ Well, hand them to me. What arc'
you standing there for?”
; “ludadc, Sir, you didn’t tell me to bring
thqm, at all at all.”
Mr. Cl —;, finding that Jerry
the best of it, him what hp
the office fort : ' '
<f You told me to go to the office andW ?
what was in the box, and havn-t 1 done it
Jerry had to harness up again, and take
another ride in the cold,' muttering as ho,
went, that he wished Ins Honor Would 8a
after maning what he said ntort time.- ‘
A RetheshingEevival. —At alatortv
vival meeting one of the brethren hocaipe
anxious to pile the altar with mourners,
an<l for that purpose left his seat and went
ambng the persaiiallj
ing his acquaiptances to quit the error of
their ways. Approaching an individual
who drawlingly talked through his nose,
he began with;
"Don't you want to gd up V’
“Nay.” ■' ;
“sJJon’t you want to join theehmAt”
“Nay.” ' ‘
“What Wpuld you do if the Lord mi
to come for you T” ■ t
■S - 4