■*» it •mbmSt ** ' ttoiilHaßgtiti? yp^ metere. “jjiCp"™*'' ff* ''JMa Masses, Bothr I- «?■'• Stk W*M»»J6**k'-H * jUlbkiJnHiiitiLT -- tiw^w.aßwiir'WOF^* ~~~JW6fcMdlg^.!str >, n.! ; K RjSTY^r^' ty v^WASttfef nuaftr f^ipfep . t.-.' J ->a syiiatay t-Tw V S •> ' y ' i ■■’ .;-v '\' . ‘ \ \ - 1 ' .%■■;• 1 •,-;*. '■ *-s JIcCRUM & BERN*, VOL. 7,- - THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. b B. 3lcCßUil«~ pTOUtIICES ASP P&OPWXTOJW, Per innnm, (p»y»blo InvprUWy In *d»*nee,Jl.M. All papers lieconlinued «t the expiration ef the tune paid for. 1 T*»KB Of *»TIBTin*O. 1 Insertion 2 do. S do. ■■•• *- » * f« *lOO rr? te - w “ I:";;;.'..:.. i« i m « ) -•••• 1 » 2 9° 2 SO 0«r three week, and lee. then three month., 25 cent. gmont)l , j year . »ix line, or \ « *|« » ? J? One «quare,.... ■ g w J*° „ —! 6 oo 8 00 12 00 P"' „ 6 00 10 00 14 00 _ rn no' 14 00 20 00 Helf a column. 00 25 00 *0 00 1 ’# uSn.7erirerti.lng by the year, three square., °Bw'in?M (irda, not excMding S Commnoicatfonsofa jwUticU eharactiVor in ‘ WS7 ™m& jneer: tlon. desired. trill bo continued till forbid and charged ac eordine to the above terms. jlmlnees notice, fir* cent, per lino for every insertion. Obituary notice, exceeding fen linen, fifty cent, a .quart TRIBUNE DIRECTORY; 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 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. 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.’’ jlflwt ||po«iau|. 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 fancy. 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 shoulders. 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 himsifif. ’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 asa village. 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 he goes.” “ And Red Sunrise—” The warriors countenance expressed pam. “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 nouncement caused. “ 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 turn?” , 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 unmoved. 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 sunset. •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 shafts! : 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 Eagle, calmly. “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, episode. ; 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 trate. “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 out writing. 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 : ' '