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McCRUM & BERN,
VOL- 7.
the altooha TRIBUNE.
i U. C. MUM,
fi. “• ua> WOFUMOIB.
■annul. inrnrUWy to vlnacej SWO.
it IS» explr»tUm«f thettaw
piiii f» r
timift o? juivMffifi* o - _ .
1 insertion 2 do. 3 do.
... « 25 $ 87}4 $ M
< * U “ < . .... 1 00 1 60 2 00
I« Yq, « C... 1 60 2 00 2 60
I o"-r<hi« w«k,»ndl W . ti»n three month., 26 cent.
(i«r ■4»» ro f « r e * e *’ iamitto. 6 month.. l y«“-
...» V 60 I 3 00 * 5 00
2 60 4 00 7 00
4 00 « 00 W 00
six lint-u or low
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Tlr» ' ... goo 10 00 MOO
hur . in 00 14 00 20 00
H.lfnoolnmn 00 26 00 40 00
! tahflSnVnl Koa “' 1 W
JJSSTSIrtI-nf by the yeer, three j#
6 00
xsfsz.'s?”' ln
,ereitwillbe«be s»4 with the number of lueer-
be continued till forbid end ob«frt «•
“ffiinnotStflrecenti perllne for eeery Insertion.
D rT no.t» ten line*. «Q * «>”«»
TRIBUNEDIRECT^
C HURCHEB- MINISTERS, AC.
•SSSS£tt:»hS atg=23
j&s-jsrihsaE iiissiais
, t tu o'clock in the morning.
METHODIST BPISeOPAL-nov. W.
.' ," _Pre»chine»v»ry Sabbath morning at U u clock,
rlhiilio evening it 7 o’clock. Pr^yorMcetmginthe
Jtnre Boom every Wednesday evening. ‘t p < M ° Ck ”
oabbath School in the same room at 2 o’clock P. M.
‘ BVAViKLtCAL LDTHBHAN-Bev. C. L.
t«i!ireßoum evfry Wednesday evening at 7 o clock.-
I,l, lath School In same room at 9 o’clock A. M.
mffljT-Kev, A. H. Ssnnowta, Pastor -iPraaehing
, . -v Sabbath morning at 11 o’clock, and in the evenmgat
Vclock. Prayer Meeting every Wednesday evening at
■ /clock Sabbath Sclioel at 9 o’clock A. M.
UNITED BKKTURBX-Bev. Biku.l Kwhjjw. Pastor.
Preaching every Sabbsth morning at 11 o clock.andin thn
. - o’clock Prayer Meeting hi the Lecture Boom
7 o’clock. Sabbat* School in
die iame room at S o'clock in the morning.
PIIOTBSTANT KPI9COPAL-<Ko rcgnlM *■"!?"•£-
Pinchiug on Sabbath morning at 11 o clock, and In the
ir'eing at 7 o’clock. Prayer Sleeting every Wednesday
evening at 7 o’clock. Sabbath School at 9 o clock A. M.
ENGLISH CATHOLIC —Bov. Jons Tviao, Paator-Di
vina service, avery Sabbath morning at 10}d o clock and
In the afternoon atft o’clock.' 1 Sabbath School at 3 o clock
In the afternoon.
GERMAN CATHOLIC —Ro». ; —*■"*£■
—Dtvipe service* every Sabbath mQraingit IOU o clock,
and In thd aftefnoon at 3 o’clock. Sabbath School at 1
o'clock la the afternoon.
AFRICAN METHODIST—Rev. Ataxanpu: Johkstox,
Faslot.— Preaching ofery Fourth,Sabbath in each month.
Frayer Meeting ever? Friday evening at 7 o’clock. Sab*
bath School at 2 o’clocfc in the afternoon.
RAIL ROAD SCHEDULE.
ON AND AFTER. MONDAY, JAN. 27, 1802, TRAINS
will arrive at and leave Altoona Station as follows:
Uii<rt»rts Train East arrives 9,35PvM., leaves 9,56 P.M.
•• ■ « West u 8,20 A.M. “ 8,40A.M.
Vut “ Hast “ 7,40 A. M. “ 7,55 A.M,
«‘ v ~» -West il 8,66P.M., “ 9,10 P.M.
Mail ■« fast “ 11.60 A. M., “ 12D6P.M.
;« West « 3,16 P. M., “ 3,38 P.M.
XUe UOLUDAYBBCRO BRANCH connects with Ex
press Train West, and Fast Line and Mall Train East and
West.
INDIANA BRANCH TRAINS connoct with Mail train
and Johnstown Accommodation Biut and West, Express
Wert, and with Ucal freights. _ '
ENOCH LEWIS, Gm'l-Supt.
MAILS CLOSE AND OPEN.
MAILS CLOSE.
Eutatn Way . .’...7. 720 A.M.
Western Way.. . ••••• ®JJ * M
lltlllilijibarg.B 00 A.M. A 3 00 P.M.
ffTettera Through... 7 00 P. M.
Kutero Thr0ugh.......... 100 *
MAILS ARRIVE.
UoUidmbar*-. 7.30 A.M. * 11 « A.M.
W.,wStkr£gh , 7MA.M.
Hutctu ThiCngh - • ® ‘
WoUcrn W»y U 50 A.M,
Eutem W»y R 16 P.M,
Orrtoi Ilooxi; — During the «Mk, from 6 45 A. «. till
; oo F. m. On Sundays, from 746 till 9soa. n.
SBO. W. PATTON P. M
MEETINGS OF ASSOCIATIONS.
MOUNTAIN LODGE, No. 281, A. Y. M.. mwtt on tecond
Tania, of each month, »t IV< o’clock P, M, in the third
CISfpTBR, No. 189 B. A C., meet*
00 the Ant Thundayof each month, at IJs o’clock P. M.,
is same room ilsb«Te. v . „ .. . ...
MOUNTAIN COUNCIL, No. 9, R.A S. M, meeta on the
6m Monday of irili month, «t7JS o’clock P, M., in aame
room iff above. w _ .
MOUNTAIN COMMANDNRV, No. 10, K. T-™eet* on
the fourth Tuesday of each month,
in isms room as shove. _
ALTOONA LODGE, No. 478, 1.0. of O. F., meet* every
Friday evening, at In the secoad story of the
Easoole Temple.
VERANDA LODOB.No. 632, 1.0. of 0. F., meets eveiy
at 7}i o’clock, in third story of Patton a
Building,' on Virginia atreet.
WINNEBAGO TRIBE, No. 36, I. 0. E. M„ meets orery
Tueaday evenlug In the second story of Masonic Temple.
CoaocQ flj©kindled at 7th ran 30th breath. -
ALTOONA DIVISION, No. 811, 8. of T„ meets every
Saturday evening, at .7 o'clock, m the second story of the
Masonic Temple.
STATE OFFICERS.
Gwrtwr—Andrew 0. Curtin.
Stcrdary of Saie—Bll SUfer.
Attorney (fourof—William M. Meredith.
Auditor General —Thomas E. Cochran.
B*rtxyor ChuroZ—WlUlam L. Wright.
Adjutant oenera2~-E. M. Biddle.
Site Srauurer—Henry D. Moore.
BLAIR COUNTY OFFICERS.
Judguof the Cowrie— President Judge, Hon George Tay
lor. Associates, gamnel Dean, Adam Hose*.
State Senator—Hon. Lewis BT. Ball.
■Uumtlgman— Thaddeua Banka.
Pnthonotary —Anthony 8. Morrow.
Regitter nad Recorder—Hugh A. Cowell.
iVnjf—Satnuel UcOainant* Deputy-—John Marks.
Oittriet Attorney—Beniamin L, Hewlt.
'Wjr OmoUiiionero— Georgs D. Cowan, Oeorge Boon,
James M. Klnkaad.
’Jsaly Surveyor—Samoa L. Gwln.
moikrtr—John
Pwr ffouK Director*— Pitot Good, WlUiuD Burlsy,DsTid
.A\ff*ndt. ■ ■ _ i
Oountjf Judiior#—Aa M. Ltoyd, llobt.M. Mesaimer, L.L.
Moore. r .
flwiw-A. j. fminm
c/ tommo* Setooh —John Mitchell.
ALTOONA BOROUCH OFFICERS.
**tieao/the JW—Jacob M. Cherry, John W. Hume*
‘"“Jen—John AlUsoD. ,
mw* OmnrQ —A. A, Smyth, Daniel La ugh man, John,
Umdea, Jacob llasser, C. K. Hostetler,JJ, J. Herrins,
to Cbuncfl—g. M. Woodkok.
TVtosura—Denial l4«gbmao.
Mm Directors—Jl. 0. Deni, John Shoemaker, J. B.
HUsman, Wm. Baydsn, Jamea Lowther, I.A. Beck,
''"•"‘er oracka*T»d«L-J.B. Hlleman.
Blah Ometalie —Joseph K.kly.
Sate, Chanty, Borough an 4 School lint—Jos.
a. Bly.
■^oditora—John ANichola, 0. J. Mann, Alex. McCormick
•‘••“W'^-DanlelPrice.
AinAoet Assessors—Jacob Hesser, J, L. JUlfanydor.
JBseMone-Haat Wart-John B. Wartal.
‘ “ WeatWard-Michael Clabangh.
. “ North Ward—JotmJhoamakar.
i * 4 A«cleri—Seat Ward—Wm. Ecdamer, John BMoy.
“ Weet Ward—Geo. V-Beaslar, Jae.Boermaa. i
“ Berth Ward-kobt. Green, Alex. HeChrtUck.
THE OLD FAMILY CRADLE.
in the garret, where -darkceM and dost
Are the sole wardens of a tnut,
Silently standing amid its compeers,
Motley mementoes of many score years,
Shapeless anti homely, a caat-aslde thing,
Tbas the old family cradle I sing. ,
Once with a vermillion its coating Was gay,
Now all Its brightness is faded away;
Worn is the paint from the sides and the head.
There no soft coverlid longer is spread,
And the Stiff rockers creak over the floor,
Like a iheumatic limb weary and sore.
Yet there are thoughts full of goodness and grace
Hrightening with beauty and homeliest face;
Speak to ns now of the years that are fled,
Changed are the living and peaceful the dead;
What are thy memories mournful and glad,
Family histories, mirthful or sad?
Once a young mother bent over thy side,
Fair, as a maiden, and blest, as a bride;
There were warm kisses and tears of delight,
And the kind angels looked pleased at the night.
While the old cradle rooked gently away,
Seeming in musical murmurs to s*>%
“To and fro,'to and fro, little one, sleep—
Angels their watch o’er thy cradle shall keep;
To and fro, to ah 1 fro, thus its we i;ock,
Boftly and solemnly ticketh the clock,
And the swift moments, while hurrying by,
Lnllably, InlUbly. sing an they fly.”
snt the light momenta bear years on their wing—
Sommer and Autumn and Winter and Spring
Quickly succeeding, pass quickly away,
And the yonng parents are oarewofn and gray,
Children are. gathered by table and fire,
Bleating and honor to mother and sire.
Still the old cradle rocks steadily there.
Still there are treasures to trust to its care,
He who Its pilluw in infancy prest.
Soothed by the sung of a mother to rest,
-Now in his manhood stands proud at it* aide,
Watching the sleeper with fatherly pride,
And the old cradle as lovingly still
Guards like a casket 1 its jewel from ill.
Gone are the aged ones now to repose,
Sleep which nor dreaming nor wearioeas knows—
Gone are the children who grew by their side
Far from the home of their childhood and vide,
And the old cradle, forsaken, forlorn,
To its long rest in the garret is borne.
Yet not forever its usefulness o’er.
In age it is summoned to service once more.
Another new-comer, bewildered, astray,
Would sleep in thy bosom ita troubles away.
Bot for the love that Ita sorrows would share,
Alas! for the ceaseless and weariless care,
A guardian sterner is sought In thy room,
And the sleep of the cradle exchanged for the tomb.
Rest, then, old friend, in a quiet profound,
Stirred not or startled by movement or sound,
Or, if the wind, with Its deep, mtmrnful sigb,
Bring to the memories long since gone by,
Softly as one whamfty.munnnr in sleep.
Rock in thy dreams, and thy eolifnde keep.
INCIDENT OP THE REVOLUTION.
The Diaguised Lieutenant*
‘ It was while the American .army was
freezing and starving at Valley Forge, and
the British army were rioting and luxuri
ating in Philadelphia, that a lame, dirty,
beggarly looking fellow, walking with a
crutch, approached the northern outpost of
the royal forces, andj .with a simple, idiotic
laugh and leer, announced his intention of
entering the city, and taking the British
general prisoner.
“ Indeed! then I shall be Voider the ne
cessity of arresting you,” said a young sub
altern, winking at some of his companions,
and assuming a serious air."
“He! he! ho!” laughed the idiot; “just
you try it—that’s all.”
“ Why, my good fellow, what would you
do?
“Do 1” exclaimed the other, drawing
himself up with an air of defiance—“why,
I’d tell the great General Washington.”
“Then, I’m afraid to enter upon your
arrest, so pass on; you will probably find
Gen. Howe prepared to receive you.”
The idiot suddenly looked s troubled,
glancing about him wearily and suspicious
ly, as if he feared he might meet the gen
eral he was so boldly going to capture, but
finally hobbled off toward the city. With
some such silly dialogue he got past the
different sentries, who seemed to give him
no thought beyond the amusement of the
time. By night ho was; fairly within the
town, and kept on his way,' sometimes
humming snatches of old songs, and, in
general, not much noticed by any.—
Through one street after another, he con
tinued to hobble forward, until he came to
one of great length, containing a block
of three-story respectable looking houses,
which might have been occupied by per
sons in middle circumstances. This street
was not lighted, and appeared deserted, so
that when he stopped before one of the
dwellings he was not perceived. He"
knocked at the door. A woman’s head
appeared at “the second story window.
“Won’t yon give me something to eat,
ma’am? I’m nearly starved,” said the
idiot.
“ Yes, poor fellow!” replied the woman,
in a kindly tone; “in a minute I will hand
yon something.”
Soon after a lower shutter was pushed
back, and a hand containing some bread
rand matt was thrust out.
“Mother,” said a low voice.
“ Gracious Heavenl” ■exclaimed thefe-
Tpaln within, in an agitated tone.
“Hush!” returned the beggar, in a
, guarded whisper. \
A moment after the door was thrown
open.
“Yes, ma’am—thank you—don’t care
if I do,” as if in answer to an invitation
to come in, at the same time crossing the
threshold with an appearance of deep hu
miliation.
' The moment the door closed behind him
the man dropped his crutch, and flung his
arms around the other, fairly sobbing—
“ Mother! dear, dear, mother!”
“William!” exclaimed the other, press
ing the ragged mendicant to her heart;
“oh, my dear, dear William! what is the
meaning of this? and how is it that I find
you in this sad plight ?”
“ I have passed the British lines in this
disguise, playing the fool to the sentries.
But tell me how you are, dear mother, and
how you fare in these troublesome times?”
“ indifferently well, my son. The Brit
ish are our masters bore; but so far I have
little to complain of in the way of per-
sonal treatment.; Provisions are very scarce
and high, and only by the strictest econo
my shall I bo able to live through, if they
continue to retain possession of the city
any considerable time. Your sister Mary
is at your uncle’s in Delaware, and will
deeply regret that she has missed this op
portunity of seeing you.”
“ Are you alone, mother?”
“No; two English gentlemen are board
ing with me.”’
“Do they belong to the army?” inquired
the young man, quickly, uneasily; “and
are they in the house 1 ?”
“ No, they appear to be private gentle
men of some means, and neither is within
at present. Hut you look troubled; have
you anything to fear, my son ?”
“ If detected, I may be hung as a spy.”
“ Good Heavens 1” exclaimed the mother,
in alarm; “you terrify me. Are you here
without permission.? without a pass ?”
“ Yes—-did I not say I played the fool
to the sentries, and got past them?”
“ But I thought that was for your own
amusement. Oh, William, if you should
be discovered-. Why did you venture in
this desperate manner ?”
“I could not get a pass, and I was so
anxious to see you and Mary, that I re-
solved to risk all.”
“ Quick, then, come up stairs, and let
us fix up a hiding-place at once, before
anything happens. Oh, William, I am
so alarmed.”
Both hastened to the third story, and
after considering several places, decided
that the loft, close under the roof, might
be the best place for concealment, as the
trap-door leading to it could be fastened
underneath, which would tend to blind the
search; while the young man, if pressed,
could escape to the roof, and by means of a
long rope, fastened to •the chimney, could
lower himself either into the street or yard.
This would not insure his escape,, but it
was the best plan the two could think of,
and served to ; render both less fearful of
detection and the serious consequences.—
Having provided the rope, the mother
hastened to bring up large quantities of
food, which he soon began to devour with
ravenous appetite, which showed he had
told no untruth when in the character of a
beggar, he .had declared himself in a state
bordering on starvation.
While he was eating, his mother plied
him with questions concerning the army at
Valley Forge, in which he had a lieuten
ant’s commission, and which he hadleft on
a furlough, and the answers of the young
soldier depicted a state of destitution and
suffering that caused his hearer to weep
for very sympathy. Three thousand sol
diers were down on the sick list at one
time, and without the common necessaries
of life, had perished by hundreds; while
of those capable of doing duty, scarcely any
had a blanket to cover him at night, Or
food enough to keep soul and body together.
Pale, emaciated, ragged and dirty, many
with their bare feet upon the frozen earth,
they walked shivering through the camp
by day, and crowded themselves together
by night, to get what little warmth they
could from each other’s bodies—the most
forlorn and wretched set of beings that
ever a nation called to arms.
“ God help us!” ejaculated the mother,
in a dejected tone. “ I suppose, after all
our hardships, we shall be compelled to
succumb to our tyrannical foes.”
“ Never!” cried the youngofficer, “while
there is a thousand men left in our country
to make a desperate standi We can only
be conquered by annihilation; and if it is
God’s will that a tyrant should rule oyer
this broad continent, not a single true
heart will live to feel the oppression and
disgrace. Ere that time, dear mother, I
shall be beyond the reach'of earthly mon
archs!”
“God bless you, William !” cried the
mother, enthusiastically grasping his.hand.
“Your father's spirit speaks in you. He
died on the battle-field with those senti
ments in hia heart; and 1 freely give you
—my only son and hope—to the glprious
cause which; his Mood'and that of thous
ands of others has hallowed,”
For severe! days the intrepid young offi
cer remained beneath his mother's roof,
supposing his presence to be known only
to themselves. But, one evening at the
end of his furlough, when he was begin-
{independent in everything.]
ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, APRtL 3, 1862. *
mug to think about preparing for his se
cret-departure, an officer and six men ap
peared at the door, and said he had, orders
to arrest one William Buggies, supposed
to be somewhere in the dwelling.” :
“ Why, that is my son,” said the widow,
in great trepidation.
“ So much more likely that he should be
here, then,” was the unfeeling reply.
“ And for what would you arrest him,
and what will be done with him if found ?”
“We shall take him for a spy,;and if
found guilty, he will be hung, of course, as
every cursed rebel should be. Here, you
Bent and Walters, begin the search; and
you, Jones and Johnson, remain where you
are. Sharp, now, all of you! Let the
fellow be taken alive, if possible—but,
alive or dead, let him be taken. Now,
good woman, if he is in your house, of
which we are strongly assured, let him ap
pear, and save yourself much trouble;
otherwise, the consequence be on your own
head.”
“ If you think my son is in the house,
search to your heart’s content!” returned
the mother, externally calm, internally suf-
fering.
And forthwith the search began;
Meantime, the young lieutenant, who
had heard enough to comprehend his danger,
had set about effecting his escape, but not
altogether in the manner first intended.—
He went on the roof, it is true, and lied
the long rope to the chimney, casting one
end of it down toward the street, but this
only for a blind. He had seen that the
bricks of the dividing wall, between the
houses occupied by his mother, and one or
two adjoining buildings, had been loosely
put np under the ridge-pole, and his pres
ent design was to remove a few of these,
crowd through into the loft of the other
house, and then replace them, This pur
pose he effected before the soldiers search
ing for him came up near enough to hear
the little noise he was compelled tp make.
The open trap-door of the roof, and the
rope around the chimney, served to mis
lead them as he had hoped, and it was
with intense satisfaction that he heard
them announce the manner of his escape.
Immediately after, the whole party left in
haste, first threatening Mrs. Buggies with
subsequent vengeance, for harboring, con
cealing, and conniving at the escape of a
rebel spy, even though the man were her
son.
When fully satsified that the soldiers
had gone, young Rugglee had attempted
to return into his mother’s dwelling by
the way he had left, but in agaib displa
cing the bricks for this purpose, one of
them slipped and went down through an
open trap-door, upon the floor below, ma
king a loud noise. Immediately after, a
light flashed up through the opening, and
a timid female voice demanded who was
there?
Here was a dilemma. Should the
young soldier reply, he would be exposed;
and should he keep silence, a search would
be made, which might prove more serious
in its consequences. What was to be
done? A sudden inspiration seized him.
It was a woman’s voice, and women are
seldom steeled to pity. He would make
himself known to her, appeal to her sym
pathies, and throw himself upon her mercy.
“Lady,” he began, in a gentle tone,
calculated to reassure his fair hearer, “ be
not alarmed. lam a friend in distress,
the son of your next neighbor. I am
hunted as a spy .by the British soldiers,
and if found my life will be forfeited. If
you cannot pity me, for God’s; sake pity
my poor mother, and assist me for Iter
sake!”
He presented himself at the opening to
the loft, and boldly descended the loft lead
ing down from it directly before the lady, a
sweet beautiful girl of eighteen, who stood
with a light in her hand, and seemed dumb
and motionless, with a commingling of fear,
s uiprise and curiosity. The young man
continued to speak as ho descended, and
hurriedly went on to narrate all that had
occurred, concluding with the search of
the soldiers, and his escape, into the loft
above.
“ Thank God, it is in my power to aid
you, sir!” were the first words of the girl,
spoken with a look and feeling of sympa
thy that made the heart of the young
soldier bound with strange emotions.
She then went on to tell him, that a
cousin from New Jersey, about his size
and build, and looking not unlike him, was
then on a visit to the family, having a pass
from General Howe. This pass she had
been looking at, and, by accident, it was
in her possession, the cousin having gone
out with the rest of the family and for
gotten it. -
“Take it and fly, and may God pre
serve you,” she said; “I can arrange it
with my kinsman. I can have lost it, and
he can easily procure another.”
She hurried him down stairs, throwing
a cloak on his shoulders on the way, which
she insisted upon his wearing, saying that
it had belonged to a deceased brother, and
he could return it at any future time.—
She then hastened to get the pass, which
she placed in his hand and urged him togo
at once.
“If I could but see mother for a mo
ment,” he said.
“No, no—-leave all to me—l will ex
plain all to her—go while you can, before
it is too late.”
“ God in Heaven bless you, sweet lady I”
he said, impulsively seizing her hand, and
touching it to his lips ; “I will never for
get you.”
The next minute he was gone. He es
caped. And true to his declaration, he
never did forget the sweet girl who be
friended him in his hour of peril. Years
after, the honorable wife of General Bug
gies was many a time heard to tell of her
first romantic meeting with him she loved,
then a hunted fugitive from the Continen
tal army.
TRUTH.
f The following beautiful illustration of
the simplicity and the power of truth, is,
from the pen of S. H. Hammond, formerly
editor of the Albany State Register. He
was an eye-witness of the scene in one of
the higher courts:
A little girl, nine years of age, was of
fered as a witness against a prisoner who
was on trial for a felony committed iii her
father’s house.
“Now, Emily,” said the counsel for the
prisoner, upon her being offered as a wit
nes, “ I desire to know if you understand
the nature of an oath ?”
“ I don’t know what you mean,” was
the simple answer.
“There, your Honor,” said the counsel,'
addressing the Court, “ is anything further
necessary to demonstrate the validity of
my objection? This witness should be re
jected. She - does not comprehend the na
ture of an oathi”
“Let us see,” said the _Judge. “Come
here, my daughter.”
Assured by the kind manner and tone
of the Judge, the child stepped forward
toward him, and looked confidingly up in
his face with a calm, clear eye, and in a
manner so artless and frank that it went
straight to the heart.
“ Did you ever take an oath?” inquired
the Judge.
The little girl stepped back with a look
of horror, and the red blood mantled in a
blush all over her face and neck as she
answered:
“No, sir.”
She thought he intended to inquire if
she had ever blasphemed.
“ I do not mean that,” said the Judge,
who saw her mistake; “I mean were you
ever a witness before ?■” 'i
“ No, sir; I never was in Court before,”
was the answer.
He handed her the Bible, open.
“ Do you know that book, my daugh
ter?”
She looked at it and answered, “ Yes,
sir; it is the Bible.”
“Do you ever read it?” he asked;
“Yes sir, every evening.”
“Gan you tell me what the Bible is?”
inquired the Judge.
“It is the word of the great God,” she
answered.
“Well place your hand upon this Bible,
and listen to what 1 say;” and he repeat
ed slowly and solemnly the oath usually
administered to witnesses,
“Now,” said the Judge, “you have
sworn as a witness, will you tell tne what
will befajlyouif youdonottell the truth?”
“ I shall be shut up in the State Pris
on,” answered the child. „
“Anything else?” asked the Judge.
“I shall never go to Heaven,” she re
plied.
“How do you know this?” asked the
Judge again.
The child took the Bible, and turning
rapidly to the chapter containing the com
mandments, pointed to the injuction, “Thou
shaft not bear false witness against thy
neighbor.” “ I learned that before I could
read.”
“Has any one-talked to you about your
being a witness in Court against this
man V’ inquired the Judge.
“Yes, sir,” she replied; “my mother
heard they wanted me to be a witness, and
last night she called me to her room and
asked me to tell her the Ten Command
ments, and then we kneeled down together,
‘and she prayed that I might understand
how wicked it was to bear false witness
against my neighbor, and that God would
help me, a little child, to tell the truth as
it was before him. And when I came
up here with father she kissed me and told
me to remember the Ninth Commandment,
; and that God would hear every word that
I said.” ,
“ Do you believe this 1” asked the Judge,
while a tear glistened in his eye, and his
lip quivered with emotion.
“Yesj sir,” said the child, with a voice
and manner that showed her conviction of
its truth was perfect. -
“ God bless you,- my child,” said the
Judge, “ you have a good mother. This
witness! is competent,” he continued.—
“Were! on trial for my life, andinnooent
of the charge against me, I would pray
j God for such witnesses as this. ; Lot her
I be examined.”
| She told her story with the eioiplieity of
i a child, aa she was, butthere was! a diroct
| ness abottl it which carried conviction of
i ito truith to the heart She was rtoily
I The couhi«d '#Ad^
EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS.
with infinityjand. ingeniOUß questiwuiig,
but she varied from-her first statement in
nothing. The truth as spoken’ty 'that
little child was-sublime. Pateehood* and
pequry had proceeded her testimony. ..The
prisoner had entrenched himself ip
he deemed himself impregnable. Wijtr
nesses had falsified facts in his favor, and
villainy hadmanufacturedfor him a Sham
defence. But before her testimony fabw
hood was scattered like chafF, The little
child for whom a mother Had _ prayed for
strength to be given her to speak thetbruthi
as it Was before God, broke the cuftning
device of matured villainy to pieces She
the potter’s ve&el. The strength that her
mother prayed for was given hpr* and.the
sublime and terrible simplicity—terrible I
mean to the prisoner and his associates —-
with which she spoke, was like a revela
tion from God himself.
BU KIND TO THE AGED.— Age, when
whitening for the tomb, is an object of
sublimity. The passions have ceased
hopes of self have ceased. They litiger
with the young, and pray for the young
while their spirits are looking beyond) the
grave—and oh! how - careful should the
young hearts, bo to reward the aged with
their fresh warm hearts, to diminish the
chill of ebbing life. The Spartans looked
upon a reverential respect for old-age as a
beautiful trait of character. Be kind to
those who are in the autumn of life, for
thou khbwest not what suffering they may
have endured, or how much of it may still
be their portion. Do they seem unreas
onable to find fault or murmur! AUow
not thine anger to kindle against them;
rebuke them not, for doubtless many have
been the crosses and trials of earlier years,
and perhaps their dispositions, while in the
springtime of life were more flexible; than
thine own. Do they require aid of thee !
then render it cheerfully, forget not that
the time may come when thou mayest de
sire the assistance from others, that thou
renderest unto them. Do all that is need-,
ful for the old, and do it with alacrity,
and think it-is not hhrd if much is required
at thy hands, lest when age sets its seal
on thy brow and fills thy limbs with teem?
bling, others may wait unwillingly, and
feel relieved when the coffin-lid has cov
■ ered thy face forever.
O' Of Mr. Haynes, the colored preacher,
it is said, that some time after the publi
cation of his sermon on the text, “Ye
shall not surely die,” two reckless young
men having agreed together to, fry hi? wit,
one of them said, “Father Haynes, have
you heard the good news!” “No,” stud
Mr. Haynes, “what is it!” “It is great
news indeed,” said the other, “and if
your business is done.” “What is it 1”
again inquired Mr. Haynes. “ Why,”
said the first, the devil is dead.” In $ mo-;
ment the old gentleman replied, lining up
both hands, and placing them on the
of the ymmg men, and said in a tone of
solemn concern, “Oh, poor fatherless chil
dren ! what will become of you !”
The Jug. —The jug is a most singular
utensil. A pail, tumbler, or pitched' can
be rinsed, and you may satisfy yourself by
optical proof, that it is dean; but Imejug
has but a hole in the top, the ig
all darkness. No eye penetrates
hand moves the surface. You de&n
it only by putting in water, shaking ilnji
and pouring it out. If the water comes ,v
out clean, you judge you have wcceejtediri 5;
cleaning the jug and vice veraq. Hence
the jug is like the human heart. Nomorr
tal can ever took into its recesses, aiv| you
can judge only of its purity by whal romes
out of it.
A Simple Question. —An attorney in
a province of France having fought a
charge of bailiff for his son, advised film
never to work in vsuin, butto raWoOritß
butions on those who requiredhisateist
ance. “What, father I” Said the ton; in
surprise, “ would you have me kU Jus
tice?” “ Why not!” answered the father
“it is too scarce an artide to be givcin ftn*
nothing.”
tell you that 1 shall commit sui
cide if you don’t have me, Susan.”
“Well Charley, as soon as you have
given me that evidence of your affection,
I will believe you love.”
He immediately hung himself upon her
neck, and said:
“There now! is that not an act of Stt
syside?” ■,'?
She wilted.
•T“I say, Bill, what have you done
with that hone of youmt”
“Sold him.”
“ What did you sell him fort” -
“ Why, he moved so slow that I got
prosecuted half a doxentimesibrviobtiag
thelawagainststandinginthestreet. ;
«9*lf youwishto let the worldknow
you are in lore with a particular man,
treat him with formality, andemyNoae
else viith ease and frnMtam.
i#The first app& trasehfelSgF
first pair. ‘ •
NO, 9.