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SIcCRUM & t)ERN,
VOL. T
THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE.
H. C. DBRN,
k. 8- '*»» t*onatota.
ntn /MT&ble Inrariabljr to adrance,) $1,60.
tinned at the expiration ef the time
P .M &■
, TBHMK of A®*I»T1BUI0.
1 injerliOD . 2 do. 3 <*o.
„ |MB | 86 $ «7H $ W
o».«q“»r f , ( J < 1 00 1 50 2 00
t*o £ •« ) - 160 2 00 2*o
rt hr« *Uta “«»>**" tb “ th ” e mon ‘»“- “ cenU
fit iijnare for ««!• 6 1 y*»r.
$ 1 60 » S 00 $ 5 00
.. 2 *0 4 00 T 00
4 00 6 00 10 00
iit line* pr lew
One iqum
T»o ‘ 5 00 8 00 12 00
Three ... 6 oo 10 00 14 00
fonr - 10 00 14 00 20 00
Halfa column. .. 14 00 25 00 40 00
i l andKwritOT Notice. 1 78
th* year, three .qMrei,,
5 „
Une. »Uh P! r^H C ,i' uarneter or Individual In
a.rdin« per line for every Ineertton,
noUct extLiin/tn line., fifty cent, a square
§lmu
the flower of liberty .
Wb«i flower is this thmj greets the morn,
Its hues front heaven so freelj born I
With burning star and flaming band
It Undies all the sunset land;—
0, tell ns what its name may be!
It this the flower of liberty ?
: It la the banner of the free.
The starry Hewer of Liberty!
In savage Nature’s far abode
Its tender seed our fiatherw sowed;
The storm winds rocked its swelling bud.
Its opening leaves were streaked with blood.
Till, lo! earth’s tyrants shook to see
The full blown Flower of Liberty I
Then bail (be banner of the free,
. The starry Flower of Liberty!
Behold iu streaming rays unite
One mingling flood of braided light,—
The red that fires the Southern rose.
With spotless white from Northern snows,
And, spangled o’er its asore, see
The sister Stars of Liberty I
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry flower of Liberty 1
The glades of heroes fence it round;
Where’er it springs is holy ground;
From, tower and dome iu glories spread;
It wares, where lonely sentries tread.
And. plants an empire on the sea!
Then hail the banner of the free.
The starry Flower of Liberty I
Tbs sacred leaves, fair Freedom’s flowe*
Shall ever float on dome and tower,
To all their heavenly colors true,
In blackening^frost or crimson dew,—
404 God lores ns as we love thee,
Thrice holy flower of Liberty I
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Liberty!
felect
THE BATTLE Of PEA RIDGE.
How Foucht and How Won,.
THE FEDERAL ARMT.
Our effective force could not have been
more than twelve thousand on the day of
the first engagement, and was composed of
Indiana, Illinois, lowa, Ohio and Mis
souri fxpQps- The army was divided into
three divisions, under the command of
Gen. Samuel R. Curtis, a brave and pa
triotic officer.
the aitßitT. ARsrr.
The rebel army was composed of nine
or ten, perhaps twelve thousand Missouri
State troops, under Gen. Sterling Price;
some six or eight regiments of Arkansas,
under Gen. Ben. McColloch,; five or six
regiments of Texans, under Gen. Earl
Van Dom; some three thousand Chero
kee, Choctaw, Creek, and Seminole Indi
ans,, under Col. Albert Pike* all under the
command of Major General Mclntosh.
In addition to those mentioned, there were
two or three regiments of Louisiana troops
-and--companies of Mississippi and Ala
bama soldiers under their respective cap
tains, majors and colonels, whose names
are unknown alike to your correspondent
and to fame. The entire rebel force could
not have been less than thirty thousand,
many estimating it still higher.
THE FIRST DAT’S FIGHTING,
Gen. Curtis anticipated an attack from
the south, and accordingly had the trains
placed on the north under the protection
of Gen. Sigel, with a body of eight hun
dred men [ the principal Federal encamp
ment and main lines being to the eastward,
near the head and on both sides of Sugar
creek. Meantime the rebel forces were
moving in full strength from Bentonville,
whence they had proceeded from Cross Hol
lows, end with rapid marches were en
deavoring to cross the creek, and, by pla
c'ng themselves on the norths to cut off
our retreat
An advance of about two thousand cav
reached the desired position, and made
a fierce onslaught onSigel, hoping to take
of our large and valuable train,
higel proved himself the right man in the
fight place. He gallantly met theenemy,
and, while he repelled their charge, pre*
them from seizing upon our wagons,
fhe brave and accomplished officer seemed
übiquitous. He code rapidly here and
there, goring orders and observing the
of attack mid the situation of the
at the same time cheering and en-
his troops.
i Sigel’s desire was to keep the communi
cation open between Himself and the main
camp, and the enemy’s design to cut off
this avenue for reinforcements. They
closed round him with tumultous shouts,
and believed they had accomplished their
purpose, when Sigel rushed in upon them
with his brave followers and compelled
them to give way.
1 For two hours the strife went on with
great ardor on both sides; but it seemed
as if the Federals would soon be com
pelled to yield. There seemed no hope
for them. They must become exhausted,
and doubtless they would have done so,
had their destiny been in less powerful and
experienced hands than Sigel’s.
j About the trains, the din of strife rose
louder than before and the rattle of mus
ketry and the boom of cannon awoke the
surrounding echoes. The enemy were los
ing ground. They rallied and fell with
redoubled force on our heroic band, two
hundred of whom had already proved
their patriotism with their blood. The
combat was hand to hand. Horsemen
Were dismounted, and struggled with the
infantry, while the officers were sometimes
seen defending themselves against the. ad
vancing bayonets of the common soldiers.
: A superhuman effort on the part of the
enemy, and a third time the Federalists
were surrounded. Firmer and firmer
Were the rebels closing around the five or
six hundred braves, who were evidently
going to the wall. Only one was left:
; “Follow me!” thundered Sigel, and his
piroud steed trampled an approaching rebel
under his haughty feet.
I A deep, strong earnest cry from the
Unionists, and they met the foe with the
rush of determination and energy of de
spair.
10 00
THE SECOND DAY.
■ The enemy during the night and early
in the morning poured in .from the Ben
ton ville road, and gathered in heavy- force
tp our rear, sweeping round to the right,
and occupying both sides of the Keets
ville road, a position from which it was ab
solutely necessary to dislodge them, or sur
render all hope of success. ”
J, Truly, before the second day’s engage
ment began, the prospect was very dark.
’ Defeat seemed to stare us in the face,
and the sole thing possible appeared a
struggle to prevent too disastrous a dis
comfiture.
; The way to Missouri was defended by
thirty thousand of the enemy; and we
had little more than one-third the number
to dispute the perilous passage. On the
south were the Boston mountains. To
the east or west we could not go. Were
we not hemmed in by nature- and the
enemy ?
Gen. Carr’s division was sent-by Gen.
Curtis to force the enemy from their po
sition. About ten o’clock in the morning
the battle was renewed with increased
ardor, and soon the batteries from both
sides were replying to each other with
death-dealing voices.
; Gen. Carr made a spirited and heavy
.charge upon the enemy under McCulloch
pud Price.
The rebels reeled as we went against
them, but their column did not break.—
'The charge was repeated. Still the foe
stood firm, opening a galling fire from two
batteries whose presence had not before
been known. Our .troops were then
.thrown into confusion, and three compa
nies of infantry and Col. .Ellis’s cavalry
were ordered to silence the destructive
guns.
Carr’s column advanced and fell back,
land advanced again, and beyond them, up
the hill, the cavalry and- infantry were
struggling to capture the detested guns.—
The regiment which protected the bat
teries met them fairly and freely, and, for
half an hour, the two combatants were so
commingled that they almost failed to re
cognize one another.
“ Our men have the batteries,” was an
nounced, and the Federalists rent the wel
kin with their huzzas.
Through the blue Curling vapors our
mfen could be seen dragging the guns after
'them. Ere they had gone a hundred
yards, the rebels were behind them, strug
gling like Hercules for the repossession of
the pieces.
Blood streamed anew, and shouts, and
groans, and prayers, and curses, went up
with the gigantic forms of smoke in the
upper air.
Brief triump. The batteries are lost.
Our men have been overpowered by num
bers. They retire, and blood marks their
progress, and many dead are abandoned.
Midnight comes; and the scattered words
of the sentinels are heard; and the Fed
eralists and rebels are sleeping on their
■ arms, may be, of the time
when they were friends and brothers, and
America had not become; one vast militaiy
camp.
THTC Tirmn DAl’a BATTLE.
At six o'clock, our guns opened on the
enemy, and our fire was returned from
twenty pieces. The firing did little harm.
The enemy’s shot passed oyer our heads.
Our cause was growing darker.
Glen. Sigei observes new positions for
our operations. We plant six batteries at
different points commanding their prind-
ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, 27, 1862.
pal forces. A fire 'of ball is shattering
the space with its roar. 7
The rebels can endure no longer the
sheet of flame,'out of which go death and
pain in a thousand forms. They have lost
their faith in their bad cause and them
selves. They are panic stricken-
They turn not |back. Two of their
generals have received their mortal wounds,
and the word is: “ Save himself who can.”'
The Yankees have beaten them, and
their star has set over the verdureless ridge
of this hard-fought field.
The birds twitter overhead. The sun
shines warmer : and ; clearer. The atmos
phere of \blood is' purified by the feeling
that it was shed in a sacred cause. ’
THE LOSS ON BOTH SIDES.
Our loss cannot be known at this time,
but it must be in the vicinity of seventeen
hundred—five hundred killed and some
thirteen hundred wounded, most of them
slightly. Our officers, contrary to the
past experience of this war, suffered little,
though they exposed themselves recklessly,
as Americans always will do on the battle
field.
The rebel loss will never, I presume, be
accurately: ascertained, as they are lying
all over the ridges, in the ravines, among
the brush and along the roads. The
causalties among the enemy, however, were
far greater than with us, and three thous
and, of which nine or ten hundred were
in killed, I am confident, would not be an
over-statement of their loss. Their offi-
fell thick and fast in the engagement,
and-their dead and wounded majors, colo
nels, captains and lieutenants, were at least
double ours. The Secession officers were
generally brave and dashing, and fought
in so praise-worthy a manner as to leave
us no regret, so far as courage goes, that
they were bom upon our own beloved
soil.
the rebels slaughtered by theib sav-
AGE ALLIES.
It is said the Indians in the engagement
of Friday became so excited, by the alco
hol they had drank and the scenes that they
witnessed, that they turned their weapons
upon their own allies, and. butchered and
scalped the rebels and Federalists with the
most charming indifference. An instance
if this is given by one of the prisoners, a
member of one of the companies that suf
fered from what the Southerners believed
to be the treachery of the savages.
Four companies pf the Arkansas troops
belonging to Ben. McCulloch’s division,
Were marching up one of the ridges north
of Sugar Creek on Saturday morning, to
ptrengthen the enemy, who were hardly
pressed by Gen. Sigel. They soon came
in sight of about three hundred Creeks
and Choctaws i who stood on the brow of
an adjacent hill. When within about one
hundred and fifty yards of the savages, the
latter opened fire lon them. The rebel
major who commanded the battalion cried
out to them that they were killing their
friends; but the Indians did not heed what
he said, and again discharged their pieces.
“ The d—d rascals have turned traitors,”
cried the Major. “ Upon them, Arkansas,
and give them no quarter.”
The Southerners needed no second or
der. They attacked them with great en
ergy, and for nearly an hour a desperate
battle was waged on the Ridge; the Indi
ans fighting with blind fury, and scalping
all who their hands, whether liv
ing, wounded, or dead. This is -described
as one of the severest actions of the entire
battle, and the Indians, who were finally
routed, are said to have lost one hundred
and twenty-five in killed and wounded.
Fatherly Advice to a Boy in Love.
—Now, then Bill, what are ye at down
thear at Dick Plimtons’ so much? Miss
Sally tells me ye’ve got a ’ankerin’ arter
Dick’s darter; ’Liza. You won’t come to
no good if you (jo that. It’ll be time
enough to. run after the gals when you’re
ten years older. I didn’t stick up to your
mother till I-was five-and-twenty, and at
first she hit out so hard at me for my
“ sarse,” as she called it, that I was reg
’larly floored. Hows’mever, she come
round in time, and we was married at
thirty, afore which age my opinion is a
man ain’t flt,«hor ain’t intended, nor ain’t
got no call tp cary double weight. So
don’t get a ’ankering arter Eliza my boy,
for Eliza’s a good twenty year older than
you, if she’s a hour. ’Sides, she’s got
her eye on Tom ' Summers, as takes out
Dr. Carter’s wials. If she once finds out
you’re soft on her, she’ll flatten yer ’art
out as amoothe as a . pancake, and then
dance on yer like a mountybank. I know
what them tender gals is when they gels a
spoony in love with ’em as is young enough
to be their own offspring. They aint got
no marcy, tfley ain’t, nor no feelin’, not
more than a Hinjion savage, and why
should they ?—John Roby, a Novel.
O" Value the friendship, of him who
stands by you in the storm; swarms of
insects 'mil surround you in the sunshine.
The Persians have a saying, that
“Tan nieasures of talk were sent down
upon the earth, and the women took nine.”
[independent IN EVERYTHING.]
The prison at D. is, every way consid
ered, under a better organized and surer
system of administration than any other I
have known. 1 have seen many, mad
looked somewhat closely into their meth
ods of management and discipline, and
have often seen much to approve ; but the
prison at D, surpasses all the rest. Vis
itors, of whom few, very properly, are ad
mitted, are amazed at the regularity, the
order, and most singular of all, the air of
security and exceeding quiet that prevails.
As we wandered through the chambers
in the freer part of the prison, we came
to one from the window of which a man
was looking so anxiously that he did not
hear us enter. When he turned around,
his eyes were glistening with tears. The
warden said he did nothing but stand at
that window at all times when he was un
occupied. He was a sailor, we learned,
whose offence was that he had beaten al-
most to death a comrade for speaking
slightingly of his \wife, He was in for
three years, six months of which had
passed, and he was one of the best men
about the prison. They had found out
that he was accomplished—that there was
no better barber anywhere; so he was el
evated above his fellows, to the extent of
his dignified position, and the responsibility
of razors.
“ He has shaved me many a time better
than I could have done it myself. Would
you like a prison shave, gentlemen’” said
the warden.
I thought there was something quite
taking in the idea, and acknowedged my
self to be touched favorably with the prop
osition.
“Johnson, you will shave this gentle
man ?” said the warden
I threw off my coat, and settled myself
comfortably in the big chair. Johnson
made grave preparations.
I always hated a razor. It was a vil
lainous necessity. I wonder if anybody
thinks it delightful, that hissing of the
sharp steel over the cheek, and that slow
scrape over the throat, with the skin drawn
drum-tight.
When my face was shining with the
soap, the warden said:
“We will leave you for five minutes,
Mr. -, is that time enough, John
son ?” “Quite time enough, sir,” an
swered Johnson.
The prisoner and I Were left alone. —
My companions went away in another di
rection from that we had been pursuing,
and the warden swung the door wide open
as he passed through, leaving it unclosed.
From my position I saw them walk along
the top of the wall until they came to a
comer, where they spoke a little to the of
ficer in charge, and then they moved on,
officer and all out of sight.
Upon each corner of the prison wall a
guard is always stationed, well .armed to
watch that no attempts at escape are made.
The moment this one disappeared, I felt
a sort of a faint shiver of the razor against
my lip. Immediately after, my barber
ceased operations, walked leisurely to the
door and looked out, and returning, paused
an instant at the window where we had
found him when we had entered. Then
he came back to me and resumed his work.
I felt vaguely afraid.
Presently the prisone spoke. His voice
was very low, quite a whisper indeed, and
he cut his. words short. But how distinct
they were!
“Do you hear me, sir?” he asked.
“ Yes,” said I.
“ It’s a ticklish thing, this shaving, isn’t
it?” said he. “But my hand is always
steady. I can do what I please with a
razor—just what I please. Be good enough
to keep still, very still, just now. I’m
dose on to a large vein, you see, right in
your neck. Keep very still,' and don’t
stir. I know what would happen, and so
do you, if you stirred or spoke a word.
Good God! These were hideous words; ;
but the glare of the man’s eye as he came
round ini front of me, was appalling. I ;
could not have uttered a syllable if I had
died otherwise.
“Now,” said he, “listen but don’t
move,” and he pressed the flat blade
against my throat, as if by way of warn
ing. “I don’t like this. I can’t stand it.
I’m going. And, so help me God, if you
lift a finger to stop me, or make one noise,
both of us will have to die! I would
a little rather not hurt .you: but—re
member!”
He sprang away, and caught up my
coat and hat, which lay near, still keeping i
the razor in his hand. The moment its ;
frightful contact was removed, my inert- i
ness vanished. I leaped up, seized the:
chair in which I had been sitting, and
shouted lustily. He turned upon me like
a tiger.
“ Ah, you will have it, then!” he cried,?
and rushed towartl me.
I thrust him aside with the heavy chair,;
and, lifting it high in the air, brought it
down crashing upon him. He sank for a
second, but quickly rose again. He wasj
heavier than I, and twice as strong, I sup
pose. Persons who have thus beep, in po
sitions of great danger will not be aston-
A VEST CLOSE SHAVE.
BY A LONDON DETECTIVE.
ished to hear that I forgot, after my; first
cry, to call out at all. 1 thought only of
defending myself.
This state of things did not last a quar
ter of a minute. He would have beaten
me down soon enough had 1 not, in sheer
desperation, made use of a trick which I
had once before seen successfully employed.
I moved my eyes suddenly from him, and
stared wildly into the space behind him,
pointing at the same time and in the same
direction with my arm. By a lucky chance
I pointed to the window.
I think that movement saved my life.
He stopped, irresolute, glanced at the
window, flung his hfnds.over his head,
gasped as if he were choking, and, dashing
the razor against the stone wall, fell trem
bling upon his knees. As I stepped swiftly
across the floor he called out to me:
“ Don’t go, don’t go!” he said. “ Stand
there at the door, if you choose, but wait
a minute. It’s all over now; and, per
haps if you hear me you won’t wonder
that I was driven mad.”
“Look lout at that window, sir, and
you’ll see; just over the road, a woman
with a child in her arms, standing in a
doorway. That’s my wife and baby—my
poor wife and Baby. She doesn’t know
I’m here—thank God for that. I came
here undera wrong name, and she supposes
I’m far away at sea. I am sure it would
break her heart to know the truth. Well,
sirs that’s my home. I’ve seen it, andl’ye
seen her every day, these three months.—
It used to make me crazy, but I bear it
better now. But this chance —was too
much for me, And to think that I Came
near losing all hope of ever seeing ter
again.
Could I doubt those struggling sobs and
tear? There was truth in every tone.—
I looked through the window, and saw,
as he had told me, a woman standing on
the threshold opposite, with a little child.
She tossed it up laughingly once or twice
and disappeared.
“You won’t trust me now I know,”
said the prisoner; “but I want to beg you
not to let the warden know of this. It’s
no use I know. Well, I swear that I’ll
be true to home after this. Nothing but
three years solitary now, and who can live
through that? No, no, you’ll let this go
by, won’t you? You, may believe me— ;
_you may inded?”
Feet shuffling along the passage announ
ced the return of my companions. ‘ The
prisoner endeavored to calm himself, and
I put on an air of unconcern I think
was very successful under the circum
stances.
“ Not shaved yet?” said the warden,
astonished. If he had but known' how
close a shave I bad been through.
“ I have broken my razor,” said John
son, looking appealingly at me. “See,
sir! I must have another.”
“ Very well,” said the warden. - “ Will
you wait?” he asked.
: “ I think not,” said I. “ Another time
will do me.”
So I wiped my face, and went on our
way.
Of course I was bound to tell the war
den what had,happened; but even in that
great excitement which naturally followed
so narrow an escape, 1 think that I set
forward all that I could in the poor fel
low’s favor. The warden received the
story with perfect composure, and assured
me that he would act in such a manner
as he thought the occasion needed. He
condemned his own heeedlessness in open
ing so evident an opportunity for guilt,
with much more earnestness than he spoke
of the event itself.
I could not resist visiting the wife of
Johnson; I discovered that his story was
■ true, and learned his real name. She was ■
happy in her ignorance of his real condi
tion. I sought to ascertain whether she
was ttbl« to sustain: herself until he should
rejoin her; and then she told that the war
den of the prison had also come to her,
shown interest in her behalf, for which
she could not well account, and assured
her of his aid and protection in any need
that might .come tp her. She was most
gratefnlj bat wondered why he had done so. |
A few months ago the following news- j
paper paragraph appeared. It was much j
copied and, I suppose, will be readily re
membered: .
“It is the custom at die prison of 1). to
permit prisoners whose terms are within
a few weeks of expiration to work outside
the wall under the supervision of an offi
cer. This privilege is in most cases gladly
accepted- A few weeks ago, however, it
was declined by a man, who, as his time
of freedom drew near, appeared more rest
less under his confinement than any others.
On inquiry it was found that this prisoner
had a wife and child living directly within
view, of the walls, and that for nearly three
years he had seen her daily, she: bang all
the time ignorant of his imprisonment, and
supposing that her husband, who was a
sailor, was at sea on a long voyage. He
was unwilling: that, at the last; moment,
the fact should be revealed,to her j and ajf
his own request, h e continued within the
walls until his liberation, which took place
last week. Excepting on one occasion,
his coaduot while in prison has teen with
out blemish." | > !
EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS.
“GIVE US THIS BAT OBE BAILT
BBBAB.”
In the neighborhood of Vienna, them
lived a young peasant woman who sup
ported herself by the cultivation of yaga*
tables for the Vienna market. She wasa
widow, still young and handsome, having
but one child—a little girl who wap just
old enough to run about and play with thft
other children in the neighborhood.
The handsome mother was desirous ofa
second marriage; indeed she had already
set her heart upon a young man who occa
sionally visited her, and whose proposition
of marriage she was now beginning impa
tiently to wait. But it did not come.
A suspicion crossed her mind, that the
obstacle in the way of his proposals was
perhaps —her child. The struggle in her
.mind was a fierce one, but she finally .re
solved that this obstacle should be removed
—she would make away with the child!
Beneath her house was a deep cellar
where she usually stored her vegetables.-
Taking her little daughter by the ha™!
one day, she led it down to the cellar, and
thrusting it in, closed the door, locked it,
and hurried up stairs.
The same evening her lover came as
usual. They supped together—chatted to
gether—but no mention was made of the
little absentee.
Twenty-four hours passed, and the
mother crept softly down stabs, andoMs
tened at the door. The quick ear ofcthe
child caught her mother’s step, and she im-'.
plored, her to take her out of that dark
place—she was so cold and so hungry.
The mother made no answer and crept
quietly up stairs again. Soon the lover
came; they supped together, and passed a
social evening. t
Another twenty-four hours passed, and
the mother made a second visit to the cel
lar. , Again the little sufferer heard "her,
and with feeble voice begged for a crust of
bread—just one.
The mother’s heart faltered for a mo
ment —but she rallied again and left the'
little one to its fate.
Another day passed. The mother crept 1
quietly down stairs and listened. Allvras
silent. She opened softly the door—the
child was dead ! .
Taking swiftly the body up stairs, she
laid it upon a bed, and immediateiy making
a great outcry, called the neighbors to
gether—telling them that her child had
sudenty died.
The second day after there wasa funeral.
The child lay in its coffin bestrewed with
flowers, brought by the.little playmates!in:
the neighborhood. The procession moved:
towards the quiet Ootksacker (Gad’s acre)
where was to be planted this little seed of
an immortal flower: The mother stood,
looking down upon the grave, over which
the holy man began with solemn , voice to
repeat—
“Our Father, who art ia Heaven, bah
lowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come;
Thy will be done on earth «3 H if in
Heaven* ‘Give ua this day ou daily
bread— ”
A piercing cry, and the
gered and fell to die earth. The hygajgjl;-
ers ran to her—raised her—wheit
wildly around, she related in
gibbering accents, to theshuddering :
around the grave, the very deed had
committed.
They bore her away. Crazed agd aofdt
ten by the hand of God, she did pot hog
survive, but miserably died—on instance
of the swift retribution of thf Great
Avenger, and an appalling lessM| upon die
words—
“ Give us this day our daily bread.”
A Stbangb Dbkah.—Old Squire W.
is an honest, jovial soul, with few religi
ous scruples—fond of a hearty lagghpr
a good joke at any time. He relates the /
following bn himself as an actual occur*
rence: . '
“ One night, boys, 1 had a very strange
dream. I thought I was about to gist to
heaven A long ladder, like Jwotfa
reached from the ground toward the godd
place, and it was on this ladder that I
went up. When T readied the topi, T-s»
found a space of seven or eight fret inter- ;
vening between the last round and the es- •
lestial gate. I could see withinaad catch
glimpses of the fine thipgp inside, Itator
stood at ihe leaned over t
reached but his bandandtold me to make a
big jump. I did jump, hoys, ahdgotone
of the d—dest falte you ever heard far I
I found myself sprawling onthe floor, hav- j
ing jumped out of whito i vnH»<
trying to jump into Heaven.*
- / ■ -V • I
WThe man that laughs is a doctor j
withouta diploma. Hi* face does more" 1
good In a dck room than a bushel df !
powders or a gallon of bitter draagfcil*-’'
People are always glad toseehim. ■ Tteir
hands instinctively » half way
meet his grasp whildthey tom. invohurta*
rily from the dampy toocfa oftbe dys
peptic, who speaks in the groaning of.
He laoghs yon out of yoar
yon never know what a .pleasant we*)p
yod are living h» antil he points oofr'dhjr
sonsy streaks on its pathway.
■
NO. 8.