\fi «Lad.ex*v UttkAv**- pas-apwa. iafln'a. l . HHfeg^Sa ■HKN ■fc^sJ&ss l^j^te^llWrKiiA'.l... i; win rewire * ; tsaofron*4i*i»«iwV u ' h **“ ™ mton Kq^., r«1I who eaUiut ptwehn, l«i.‘ y l " -:• fcTS; - 2 % '■-. C£ C •*« |j|\ 5 S §•: 2 Bfer r-st &•§ ■ft a ■j g« /= ■f|:;?lf ■ w^s s ■ O § I' g ; Hit l=>BS|<-E £ Sr cq oJe tt ~ w gaigiE ”By » my stock and you! will find TID tOWU. ' j JACpB WISK. JTIONERY PER SALOON. iIBEII WOULD L\- >J Alu*ma and vicinity that hit r : ‘»«i FRUIT vSTOHfcttaiway* r«T attk'lct to and in groat i ISA LOON which he* will serve up OYSTERS (t VJES always on haw!. *d to supply cakes,.©aiidiiiA. £t-.. <*#, U>* invite* a shaire of public tie can render full .-mtisfaclUui tiv -•ahKjii i* on Virginiastltet.m* OTTO ROSSI, ttfjKSTION WHll’il Wfl of ereiy person -jjk t be«t article Jar wM ler nuUtcrc. to direct, bnt if yon JR. SHOES n> ofhlastoeknul wort. blCK>*«rte>entorßoi>tn.BlK>" BwoB<« at Mr pricS. 2SSBg^ -A A fi' j ;- ■ i » in "~‘ oom* B»A> rliSo ■W*g»P^* t 1^ t ijLKg’g- PRINTING . -V ****** MoCIUJM & DEKN, m- 7 THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. ~r KIJM a. C. DKUN t ... POBUHHIEB AND «0PJU»T0»8. .. n an>. t p«y«l»le teVMiaMy madvauce,) *1,50. ■|J| “j,,, .iiscontinaert at tin- expiration nf the time f" 1 rfcllM* t»r ADVMTIMSO 1 Insertion 24p. d do. 4 4 ,r $ 2ft 2 $ 50 '' 4f Hire ' s line*) 60 ‘ft 100 „ c , Minwe. > .. 100 150 200 f*» . ; 2 4 •• ) 160 2>o 260 liirr tjire« week* and lew than three month!. 2ft cents h *„- r „ for each insertion. Smooths. 0 months. 1 year. 160 $ 3 00 $6OO .... 2 60 4 00 7 00 .... 400 600 10 00 .... 500 800 12 00 6 00 10 00 14 00 tO V, ' u.mn”** . 10 00 UOO 20 00 *, i,n UOO 24 00 40 00 •* ” pr ‘fr«ioW irVu.iMH not 8 r"miMOfea«M« of a political uaracter or indiridnat in bo charged according to the shore rate.. marked with the number of in«r ns jesireil. will bo continned till forbid and charged ac lWrWtothe above terms* - " 2«S noticea fire cents per line for erery inaertlou. iliitnsry notices exceeding ton line*, fifty cents a squa e ,x iirn* «>r tine >({Uar'V Baltimore lock hospital ■ . . Vt.IIUSHKD AS A RKFUQE FROM QUACKERY j Tie Only Place Where a Cure Can j be Obtained. | DU. JOHNSON has discovered the j »uwt Certain. Speedv and only Effectual Remedy inji orld iof all Private Diseases. Weakness of the Back | , h SirictureM, Affections of the Kidneys and Blad- ! f r VuvoloMarv Discharges, Irapotency, General Debility, Dyi*pep«y» Uuiguor, Low Spirits. Confusion il a# Palpitation of the Heart, Timidity. Tremblings, of Sight or Giddiness, Disease of the Head, Nose or Skin, Affections of the Liver, Lungs, Stem r‘Bo««l-‘--those Terrible disorders arising from the Ainrv Habit# of Youth—those SECRET and solitary prac ! I, m’jre fatal to theii victims than the song of Syreus to I'.; Mariners of Ulysses, blighting their most brilliant or anticipations, rendering marriage .Ac , Jmpossl- YOUNG MEN l.lhjcUUv, who have become the victims pf SoliUry Vice, dreadful and destuctive habit which annually sweeps iu uatimriygiave thousands of Young Men of the most -xiUted talent* and brilliant intellect, who might other *i,-li»vo ontrauoed listening Senates with the thunders or waked to ectasy the living lyre, may call tub foil coufid?nce. MARRIAGE. 'JirrieJ Person#, or Young Men cotemplating marriage, aware of physical weakness, organic debility, defor* aiiv.ic.. speedily Cured. ] He who places himself udder the care of Dr. J. may re- udvconfvle iu hia honor as a gentleman, and confi j-atU- relv upon liU skill as & physician. ORGANIC WEAKNESS immediiitely Cured, and full Vigor Restored. riils DhltcssUig Affection—which renders Life miserable j IU I marriage, impossible—is ths penalty paid by the! -uuras of improper indulgences. Young persons are to to commit excesses from not being awan* of the dread i iiconsNQeuces that may ensue. Now, who that under ii.tnii the subject will pretend to deny power of creation, is lost sooner by those falling mto improper usbiti than by the nrudent? Besides being deprived the pleasures of. healthy offspring, the most serious and de nrudive—symptom# t*> both body and: mint] arise. The >vjterb becomes Deranged, the Physical and Mental Func tions Weakened. Los-* of ProcreativtePower, Nervous Irri tability, Dyspepsia. Palpitation of the Heart. Indigestion Cjoaritutional Debility, a Wasting of the Frame, Cough, Consumption, Decav and Death. omCE, NO. 7 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, U!' 1 hand side going from Baltimore street, a few doors iru.a the ciifner. Fail not to*observe name and number Letters must ho paid and contain « stump. The Doc :■•■■r'f* Diploraas.'hang in his office A CURE WARRANTED IN TWO DAYS. ■ xVb Mercury or Ifuseons Drugs. ' OR. JOHNSON, 'Umber of ine Hoyal College of Surgeons, London. Grad 3itf from one of the most eminent Colleges in the United fi utes, and the greater part of whose life has been spent in th* hospitals of London, Paris, Philadelphia and else* ihere, has! effected some of the most astonishing cares ;!ut wore known; many troubled with ringing in the brad and bars when asleep, great nervounno’su, being firmed at!sudden sounds, bashfnlness, with frequent Mualiipg, upended sometimes with derangement of mind, **rs cured Immediately. TAKE PARTICULAR NOTICE. Dr.J. addpeues all those who have injured themselves \t improper indulgence, and solitary habits, which ruin Uh body and mind, unfitting them for either business, ‘taly. society of marriage. These are some of the sad, and melancholy effects pro* by early habits of youth, viz: Weakness of the and Limbs, Palos in the Head, Dimness of Sight, Ui of Muscular Power, Palpitation of the Heart, Dys- Nervous Irritability, Derangement of the Diges ’■r - i’-inctions. General Debility, Symptom" of Consump ti'-n. ic. 1 Mestallt.—The fearful effects of the mind are much to - dreaded—Loss of Memory, Confusion of Ideas. D«v r-siw of spirlta, Ki|il-Porebod!ng*. Aversion to Society, '-Ji-Di-tmst, Love of Solitude, Timidity, Ac., are some of b-orilrt produced. r-Tuxng of persons of all ages can now judge what is caniei of their declining health, loatag their rigor, be ming weak, pale, nervous and em iciatcd, haying a sin* i,n;lar appearance about the eyes, cough and symptoms of -^sumption. vr. YOUNG MEN j t "ho have injured themselves by a certain practice m ialged lu when aloiio, a habit frequently learned from 'til companions, or at school, the effects of which are “Uhily Mt, even when asleep, and If not cured renders impoaible, and destroys both mind and body, dwell apply immediately. What » pity that a young mao, the hope of his country, darling of his parents, should be snatched from all prospects and enjoyments of life,,by the consequence of •crUtiog from the path of nature, and Indulging in a •'“rtain secret habit. Such peraon* MCBT, before contem i'Utiug . MARRIAGE, •'Sect that a sound mind and body are the most necessary r *qaisites to promote cannabis] happiness. Indeed, with these, the journey through life becomes a weary pH intnage; the prospect hourly darken* to the view; the am i becomes shadowed with despair and filled with the **Uncho|y reflection that the happiness ol Another be-, 'c;n«a blighted with our own. U , u disease of imprudence. nnen the misguided and Imprudent votary of pleasure that he has imbibed the eeeds of Ibis painfnl dis *w" > ‘T too often happens that an ill-timed sense of shame, r tread of discovery, deters him from applying to those from education and respectability, can alone be j[*; c £ him, delaying till the constitutional symptoms of uu horrid disease make their appearance, such as ulcera throat, diseased nose, nocturnal pain sin the bead jal limbs, dimness of sight, deafness, nodes on the shin and arms, blotches on the head, face and extreml- progressing with frightful rapidity, till at last the fkv th " month or the bones of the nose fall in, and Tictim of this awful disease becomes a horrid object of ‘jmUeratiou, til! death puts a period to his dreadful 'r. ending him to “ that Undiscovered Country oui whence no traveller returns.” a melancholy fact that thousands fall victims to • >*-tefribl« disease, owing to the unskillfulneas of igno ■’M pretender*. who, by the us© of that Deadly Pm son, r tary, min the constitution and make the residue .of ,Ifr miserable rrutf h STRANGERS Dot yoar livfs, or httUth to the copy Dr. Johnston’s adver- J ,® Ants - or style themselves. In the newspapers, regu> 'J QC4teil Physicians, Incapable of Curing, they keep o i tri ® tQ ? month after month, taking their filthy and .'J ou ® compounds, or as long as the smallest fee can t>« - »f anf l indfcspalr. leave yon with ruined health *gnloT« r your galling disappointment, llu. j ton ** the only Physician advertising. jji crp( * t * n tial or diplomas always hang In his office. l>r*aa, re i U l w * ie * or treatment are unknown to all others, „ the ||A?• ,r3 ? B a Hf* rpent in the great hospitals of Europe. IQ country and a more extensive Private Pra& ot her Physician in the world. Tbe-m159£ RSE, * , ! CNT OF THE PRESS* *n!f o *i cared at this institution, year after Prion,,li ”*• “hmaroor-important Surgical operations m Johnston, witnessed by the reporters of the *liich’l.,, "PP e r”-and it£ny oth*r papers, notices of Iki T ° *?*«»» ap'l again before the public, nti ' D K ** * gmalemen of character and re is a sufficient guarantee to the afflicted. X DISEASES speedily cured. 'iJttQn.d i. 1 - nnlflM p.»t-pai(' VI.I containing » •S'and «“ th * re ,P'Y I’orson* writing .hould «t»te Peri.m. *’ rtl ' n input describing symptoms let,™ St2 q } A be in directing their Institution, in tho following munher: JOHNSTON. «. O., 1 Dfth, Bgltimor* took Hoipltal, MnrrU : Mkmt ferit|. OUR BRAVE|T e A^ e^EBT-WHERE Aik not—the foocly bearUhOtooe wIU. Too plain the mournful story; 6on«i in their beauty and thqir pride. To swel)l the make of glory- Scarce any home tbat has not now Some vacant, lonely ch lir; Look in thelforward battle line— Our bravest ar« all there! They’ll tread again the gory steps Our lather’s trod of yore; Avenge the sacred blood that dyed The stones at Baltimore! ‘ To shake from off onr banner’s fold The dust that on it lay, Qod takes his mighty'cause in band God guides them on their way I We’ve sent our best and bravest forth To theseunhappy ware To lift our country’s flag again. The glorious Stripes and Stars. To fight as gallant Lyon fought. To fall as Wlnthrop felt! To fill, perchance, a soldier’s gravf. So, forward! and farewell! At ihome the anxious hearts are full Of many hopes and fears ; And in the midnight hours alone. We shed our bitter tears. While coming daylight finds u* still Whispering the toying prayer. That God would take our absent ones In his Almighty care! Oh! mothers, wives, and maidens, K Have each done what you could. You’ve crushed the aching longing ..And sought your country’s good. You’ve taught your lips to smile farewell, And bravely met the day; While yours the harder lot It is . To wait, and watch and pray! Oh, women, noble, suffering hearts. Hope for a fairer dawn! The hand that dealt the trial Will give a brightening morn ! ' Pray on, then, with a mighty faith. ; For freedom’s right and laws; That, whosoever live or die. God save bis holy cause-! - Aad if they fall, (as fall they may) With faces to the foe; In mercy, Father, comTOrt send Together with the blow. Not for ourselves we pray. Our “bravest and our best,” Oh, guide them safely through the fray Or take them (b Thy rest! IpscHlaui. THE OTHER SIDE. Breakfast was just over at the parson age, the table was cleared away, the chairs set back, and Mrs. Ashton, in a neat morn ing dress, with a pretty little cap on her pretty little head, was standing with- her arm over her tall husband’s shoulder, look ing at the morning papers. And as tine looking a pair they were as you are likely to see on a summer day. The Rev. Cle ment Ashton was indeed regarded as the handsomest man in the world, and that with good reason. Whether he ever had ah: idea of his own on the subject : was en tirely his own affair. Mrs. Ashton, as she was styled by the parish —Christiana as her godfather and godmother named her—Chrissy as her brothers and her husband hailed her—was not usually regarded as remarkably hand some. Her features were not very regular, and she was not very fair, but ? her eyes were so bright and so clear, lied figure so elastic and trim, her abundant, hair, and above all, her frank manner, and the expression of sunny-good temper and per fect openness lighting up her facet, made most' people consider her a very attrac tive woman. Every one in the parish liked her, from the two old people who sat near the stpve in church, and always came round to get their dinner at the parsonage on Sunday, to'Mrs. Dr. Rush, who was by far the grandest lady in the parish. Mr. and Mrs. Ashton had been married blit six months, after an; engagement' of almost 'three years, during which time, they had corresponded vigorously, but had seen.very little of each other, for Mr. Ashton, was an assistant in an overgrown parish in'one of the huger cities, andcould seldom be Spared: and Chrissy was a teach er in another great city, where she support ed herself and helped by her labors to educate one of her brotherafor the ministry. It was not till this brother had finished his studies, and was on an independent footing that she had consented to he mar ried. ■ ‘‘George caunot support himself entire ly,” she said, in answer to the remonstrance of her lover ,} “he is not strong enough to labor as many of the young" men do, and he needs my help. I know- that he has talents that will make him eminently use ful in the calling he has chosen. I know, tiro, that if he attempts any more than he is doing, iris health will fail, and he will become discouraged. You must .content yourself to board awhile longer with your good friend Mrs. Biekler, Clement.” And to this resolution; she steadfastly adhered, despite Clement’s persuasions and those of George, who was much dis tressed at the thought .that his sister’s marriage should be put off on his account. Ijnilcr these circumstances the lovers did not see each other, and they were fipaUy married without Chrissy ever having sirs- ALTOONA, PA. THURSDAY. OCTOBER 9, 1862 pec ted her husband of any infirmity of temper. She had suffered much on discov ering that such was the cash, and felt in clined sometimes to wish had never been disenchanted: but she was a very wise woman ; she knew jher husband’s intrinsic .excellencies, and his strength as well as his weakness, and altering an old maxim to suit her purpose, she resolved both to endure And cure. ! “What do you set about to-day ?” said she, as Mr. Ashton arose from the corner of the sofa, having exhausted the paper. “Visiting,” replied his reverence. “I must go up to old Mrs. Balcomb’s and see the Joneses, and try to prevail on Phil Taggart to let his children Come to Sunday school once more. Then I have to see Maggie .Carpenter, who is much worse again; and'if 1 have time I shall get into the omnibus and ride out to the mills to see that girl Miss Flower mentioned to me yesterday.” “What a round!” exclaimed Chrissy. “You will never get home tjodinner at two o’clock. I think I, will put it off till six, and run the risk of being thought stuck up, like poor cousin Lily. “What do vou mean ?” ‘‘Why, you know they always* dine at ,six, to suit the doctor's arrangements. — One day, Lilly called about some ' society matter on a lady who lived not a hundred miles from her street, about five o’clock in the atternoou. The lady herself came to the door, and Lily was about entering, when she thought she perceived the smell ,of roast beef in the hall, and said, very po litely — “ ‘Perhaps, it is now your dinner hour ?’ “ ‘No, indeed !’ replied madam, with in dignation. We don’t dine at this time of day ; we are not so stuck up'?’ ” “Poor Lily!” exclaimed Mr. Ashton, laughing. “What did she say?” “Oh ! she did her errand and course. There was nothing to be siJH.” Mr, Ashton turned to go into the study, and as he did so his foot caught in the carpet, and he was nearly thrown down. Chrissy started in alarm, but he recovered himself, and said, pettisl^y — “I wish you would liave that carpet nailed down. I have stumbled over it twenty times in the course of a week, I ready believe.” “ I thought Amy had fastened it down,” replied his wife, with mildness. “I am sure I saw her at work there. The door must pull it out of place, 1 think.” “ Oh! of course, there is some excellent reason for it being out of order. It seems to me that, with all your ingenuity, you might find some way of making it more secure.” He turned into the 1 study, shutting the door after him with uuecessary force, and Mrs. Ashton returned to the fire and arranged her work basket for the day, with something of a cloud on her face. She was not left long undisturbed, Mr. Ashton’s voice was soon heard calling her in an impatient tone. She sighed, but arose and entered the next room, where she found her husband before his bureau, partly dressed, and with shirts, handker chiefs and cravats scattered about him like a new kind of snow, while his face bore an expression Of melancholy reproach at once painful and ludicrous. “ What is the matter ?” she asked. “Oh ! the old story. No button where it ought to be! Not a shirt ready for wear! Ido not mean to be unreasonable,” he continued, in an agitated voice, us he tumbled over the things, to the manifest discomfiture of the clean linen; “ but. really, 1 think you might see that my clothes are in order. lam sure that I would do more than that for you, but here I am decayed ai)d put to the greatest inconvenience be cause you cannot sew on these buttons. I should think a little of the time you spend in writing to George and Henry might as well be bestowed on me.” This address was delivered in a tone of mournful distress which might have been justified, perhaps, if Mrs. Ashton had picked his pocket of his sermon as he was going to church. “ What is the matter with this shirt?” ; said Chrissy, quietly examining one of the discarded garments. “It seems to have all the buttons in their places ; and this one, too, is quite perfect; and here is another. My dear husband, how many shirts do you usually wear at a time?” “ Oh! it is very well for you to smile, j my love; but I do assure you that I found { several with ho means of fastening the wristbands. I We had breakfasted late; and now I. shall be detained half an hour When I ought to be away. I know you mean wall; but if you had served a year’s apprenticeship to my mother before you were married, it might have been all the better for your housekeeping.” “ It might have prevented it altogether,” thought Chrissy ; but the thought was re pressed in a moment. She then picked up and replaced the scattered apparel, folded the snowy cra vats, wanned her husband’s overshoes, I and saw that the beautiful little commun ! ion service presented by a lady of the I parish, and consecrated to such suffers as j Maggie Carpenter, was in readiness. Before he left the house, Mr. Ashton f INUEI'ENDKNT IN EVERYTHING.] had forgotten both his fretfulness and its cause. He kissed his wife, ;thauked ■ her for her trouble, and proposed that i she should*send for Lily to spend the day with her, and strode away with his usual elas ticity of step. ; Chrissy watched him fr3in the door until he tamed into the next street, and then went back to the fireside and her own reflections. The fretfuluess and tendency to be dis turbed at little matters was’almost her husband’s only fault. He was self sacri ficing to the last degree; faithful and in defatigable as an apostle, almost, in. his professional labors, liberal to a fault, and, in bis administration of parish matters, wise and concilitating to aiL He could bear injuries, real injuries, with the great est patience,- and was never known to show resentment. But with all these good qualities Mr. Ashton had one fault—a fault which threat ened to disturb, and finally ' destroy the comfort of married life. Jf his wife had by extravagance or bad management, wasted his income and involved him in dfficulties, it is probable that he would ne\*er have, spoken an unkind word to her; but the fact of a button being missed, or a book removed from its place, would produce a lamentation, half indignant and half pathetic, which rung in Chrissy’s ears, find made her heart ache after Cle ment had forgotten the circumstance alto gether. ■Strange as it may seem, Mr. Ashton never thought of this habit, of which he was but imperfectly conscious] as to its be ing a fault. He thought, indeed, that it was a pity he should be sensitive, and sometimes said" that he' wished he had not such love for order and symmetry, for then he should not be so often annoyed by the disorderly habits of other people. — He said to himsejf that it wag one of his peculiar trials that even Chrissy, perfect as she was, did not come up to his ideas in this respect; but that the temper with which he met what he was pleased to call his peculiar trials ever became a trial to other people he did not imagine. He had, indeed, remarked, in spite of himself, that Chrissy’s face was not as cheerful, nor her spirit as light as when they were first mar ried, and he regretted that the cares of housekeeping should weigh heavily upon her : but nothing was further from his thoughts than that anything in himself could have produced the change. Mi - . Ashton, exhausted with his day’s work turned towards home with his mind full of all be had seen and felt. He said very little during dinner, but when the table cloth was removed, and when he sat down in his dressing gown and slippers before the fire, he related to his wife all the events of the day, describing with all the enthusiasm of his earnest nature the patience and holy resignation he had wit nessed, and ended by saying— “ Certainly, religion has power to sustain and console under all trials, and under every misfortune—” “Excepting the loss of a; button,” re plied Chrissy, seriously. “That is a mis fortune which neither philosophy nor re ligion can enable, one to sustain.” The Bev. Mr. Ashton started as though a pistol had been discharged at his ear. “Why, what do you mean, Chrissy? “Just what I say,” returned Chrissy, with the same soberness. “Yourself, for instance ; You .can bear with the greatest resignation the: loss of friends and misfor tune. I never -saw you ruffled by rude ness or abuse from others, nor show any impatience under severe pain; but the loss of a button from your shirt, or a nail from the carpet, gives you a perfect Sight to be unreasonable, unkind,: and I must say it—unchristian.” Mr. Ashton arose and walked up and down the room in some agitation. “I did not think, my love,” he said, at last, in a trembling tone, “that you would attach so much importance to a single hasty Word—perhaps, I spoke too quickly; but, even if it were so, did we not prom ise to be patient with each other’s infirmi ties? I am-very glad to bear with— Mr. Ashton paused. He was an emi \ neatly truthful man, and . upon considera tion he could not rembember that he ever had anything to bear from his wife, aside from the shirt buttons, etc., which he was now becoming .conscious he had not borne | very patiently. “If it were once, my dear husband, I should Say nothing about it; but you do not seem in the least aware how the habit has grown upon you. There has not been a day this week in which you have not made my heart ache by some such out burst of fretfulness.” Mr. Ashton was astonished; but, as be began to reflect he was still more sur prised to And that his wife’s accusations were quite true. One day it: had been about the front door mat, the next about a mislaid re view, and then a lost pair of gloves, which, after all, were found in his own pocket. He felt that it was all true, and his own conscience brought forward' one instance of unkindness after another—real unkind ness—he sat down again and covered his face with his hands. “But this is not the worst,” continued, Chrissy, becoming agitated in turn. “I fear—l cannot help fearing—that 1 r shall be led to feel as I ought not towards you. I fear lest I shall in time lose the power of respecting my husband; and when re spect goes, Clement, love does not last long. This yery morning I found myself wishing I had never known yon.” Chrissy burst into tears, an unusual demonstration for her; and Clement, springing up, once more traversed the room once or twice, and then sat down by! his wife’s side “Christiania.” he said, mournfully, “I have deserved —I feel that I have, but to lose your respect, your love—my punish ment is greater than I can bear, Chrissy.” “It was blit the thought of a moment,” replied Chrissy, checking her sobs; “but 1 am frightened that the idea should have entered my head. If I should, I would rather die this moment.” 1 “God forbid!” ejaculated her husband, as he elasped her in his arms. “But why, my dearest, have you neyer told me of this before?” “It is neither a grateful; nor a graceful office for a wife to reprove her husband, nor a woman her pastor,” replied Chrissy* laying her head on his shoulder; “and if I had not been left here all day, I think I should have hardly gotl up my courage now. But if you are lidt angry, I am glad that 1 have told you all that was in ray heart; for, indeed, my dear, it has been a sal, aching heart this time. And now 1 must tell you bow ;tbose two un lucky shirts came to be buttonless.” “No, don’t say one word 1 about them* my love,” said Clement, impatiently. “I will never complain again, if the sleeves are missing as well as tjie buttons.” “But. I must tell you, because I really mean to have my housekeeping affairs in as good order as any one. I was looking over your shirts, yesterday afternoon, and put them all to rights but these two, when Mrs. Lennox came in in great distress to say that her sister’s child was much worse, and they feared dying; so I dropped all and went over there. You know how it was. No one had any calmness nor pres ence of mind. The child’s convulsions were frightful to witness; the mother was in hysterics, and Mrs. Lennox was worse than nobody at all. It was nearly mid night before I could get away, and in the meantime Amy bad put the room in or der, and restored the shirts to their places,” Here Amy put her head into the room— “If you please, missus, a young womah in the kitchen would like to see missus a minute.”' *»;. The mistress arose and went into the kitchen* and Mr. Ashton, taking a candle from the table entered : the study and lodged hirnself in. Chrisey waited for a long time, and at last went and tapped at the door. It was opened to her with a fervent kiss, and though there were nut many words said on either side, there was a light in the eyes of the husband and wife which showed the understanding was perfect between them. Do Yota own Woiut. —Enlarge not thy destiny, says the oracie; endeavor not do to more than is given thee in charge; the one evil is : dissipation ; and it makes no difference whether our dissipation ate coarse or fine. Property and its cares, friends and a social habit, or politics, Or music, or feasting —everything is good which takes away one plaything and de lusion more, and drives us home to add one stroke of ffubful work. Friends, books, pictures, lower duties, talents, flat teries’ hopes—all are distractions which cause oscillations in our giddy balloon, and make a good poise: and a straight course impossible. You must elect your work; you should take what yonr brain can, and drop the rest. Only so can that amount of vital force accumulate which can make the step from knowing to doing. Skedaddle. —The Historical Magazine for the current month says that this word may be, easily traced to a Greek origin, and that the original word is used by at least two great historians* in reporting the dispersion; of routed armies. A corres pondent of the Magazine thus speaks _pf skedaddle: “It is of both Swedish and Danish ori gin, and has been in common use for sev eral years through the North-west, in the vicinity of immigrants from those nations. It is Americanized Only r in orthography, the Swedes spelling it ‘ studdadaal ,’ while the Danes spell it ‘skyededekl,’ both hav ing precisely the same signification. This phrase is also becoming Indianized, at least among the Sioux, who frequently use it in place of their word ‘poch-a-chee,' which signifies ‘clear out,’ ‘go off,’ &c. I will also add that the Swedes use the word s£udda, and the Danes the wore styede, in the same sense as we do the word scud.” ; ' A Danish writer speaks of a hut so miserable that it didn’t know which way to fall, and so kept standing. This Is like the man that had such a complication of diseases that he did not know whi& one of them to (fie of, and so he lived on. EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. : To thk Point. —A good story and a true one, is told of Gen. Dotryea, while he was stationed at Baltimore, as the Brigadier Commanding. He addressed a note to a person who had ordered a petty fanner upon his land, some nine miles from town, to haul down the national flag. The lather- in-law of this man, a president of oneaf the banks, waited on the General to know whether ho had written the note. “I did,” said the General. "Are yon the person?” “No; lam his father-in-law.” “I give you thirty minutes to produce your son-in-law in this office!” “But General—J” “Thirty minutes, sir, thirty minutes!” The two came at the appointed time, and the offender confessed that, he'had committed the offence against the flag. “You must, both of you, take the oath,” said the General, “and I give yon, sir, two houjs to hoist that flag upon the same spot where it was pulled down.” “But General—?” “Two hours, sir, two hours, or you both go to Fort McHenry !” The flag went up at the appointed time, and there it has floated ever since, and the two are now sworn Union men. CT We wish we could remove one fal lacy from the Northenf mind, and that is the fallacy that labor performed by negroes on the plantations of the South cannot be done by white men. We say it can; be done cheaper and better. Intelligent and independent southerners will admit this. Why, the white farmers of the west, in their harvest season, work and are happy and healthy under a sun quite as oppres sive as that of this lattitude. The hod car riers of the North with no wool to sheath their heads, work as no negro could work in a sun quite as broiling as anything ex amination of the philosopher and the states man. And we' will anticipate events so far as to say, that a sugar plantation will be worked in this State by white men be fore the year is out. Don't .then believe those who tell you that a white man can't do what a negro can. He can do all a negro can, in the way of laboring in the sun, and as much more.—Woo Orleans Delta. Fbiohtfdl Scene.—A Kerry paper (Ireland) says that a lion in Bell’s Hippo drome Circus seized a visitor named Cour nane by the coat-sleeve, dragged him close to the cage, and made an effort to catch him by the collar of his coat. The man, to save himself, ducked his head under ' the flooring of his cage; the lion then caught him with his paw by the upper part of his shoulder, and held him lor a few seconds. The keeper struck the lion several heavy blows on the paw, which still kept its hold of Conmane. The keeper continued to ply his loaded whip vigorously on the paw of the lion, which, in a few minutes, loosed his hold, and Cournane escaped with a deep cnt on the beck of his hand and a severer one on his shoulder. \ •T At Worcester Assizes, a cause was tried about the soundness of a horse, in which a clergyman, not educated in the school of Tattersal, appeared as a witness. He was confused in giving his evidence and a furious blustering counsellor, who examined him, was at last tempted to ex* claim —, Pray sir, do you know the difference between a horse and a cow? ‘I acknowledge my ignorance,’ replied the clergyman; ‘I hardly know the differ* ence between a bully and a bull, only that a bull, 1 am told, has horns, and a bully,’ bowing respectively to the counsellor, HucJdly for me, has none.’ Avoid Bad Company.—The following little fable contains a deaf of wisdom': and editors, clergymen—indeed all rltinnni in society will do well to remember it and govern themselves accordingly. “A skunk once challenged a lion to a single combat. The lion promptly de clined the honor of such a meeting.” “How,” said the skunk, “are you afraid?” “Very much ao,” quoth the lion, “for yon would only gain fame by having the honor to fight a lion, while every one who met me for a month to come would know that I had been in company with askunk.” Time wears slippers of list, and his trade is noiseless. The days come, In dian file, softly dawning one after another; they creep in at the windows j'their fresh morning air is grateful to the lips of those who pant for it; their music is mtt to the ear that listens to it; until, before we know it, a whole life of days has posses sion of the citadel, and time has taken us .for its own. «r “ Well, what next!” said Mrs. Par iugton as she interrupted Ike, who WM reading the war news—** the pickets wore driven u» five miles." “Blem toy soul, tita* will make a strong fence. ; I soffese they bed to be drivenindeep tat sionaders from digging dot iroder'^t&aOL no. se