‘ l -,t ■ , ' ! " ‘: ' - ' my. SSBS feSsssi^c f g. L.mrgg?^~ fe» Pwy will »d nw«tY» «»J«»faraboST. . [MMcbyjmu ** ■ «j £ r~- ■ ms : | [ rs | I W gf * 9 fia, •«*•?£ %i mi la| |g|‘ so*l i|?p: r g-S |»-|> ' rIJ * * ' ■ J '. Wh&. sl' ND BAKERY] JIGNEA INNOUN (AItoona and rfdalbr that he , inwtfee* at \ , s •JUBUKB. KBTB, SBICRg ~*?P*^ lrrcr ttwHoUdbji. on hand * good stock «f plain mUß&ictiir*. - fES, RAISINS, AC. ap-itf.llic.peu.. ar. Molasses, Battfr, irE WHEAT FLOUR, Ctt,OORNMRAh,>C.. i tai tap** orsnull qnantitlw. tny stock and yon will And '■ In town. .■ JACOBWIBK. ITIONERY ER SALOON, USER WOULD Iff- I Altoona and Tiotnltp that his »«« FRUIT BTORK,Uatarus t articles to be had, and fngreat SALOON ghhewlll serve op OYBTBRS D- d J'/ZS always on hand. hWimpply . He intltea'a share bfpublic can render fhll satisfsctton to slooh is on Virginiasttaet.l wo OTOO BOBM. SNGHjfS . ws Agency, % MAIN STREjVF »N®B6TJ,ON.A»LBB »IK jCaJSLATVAKtBTV’ foal aim ' & 00., AtTOOSJ, FA~. , JAOK&CO., mzJtyAT&vae. PA* ■■ KEPIS, .. iMon, Joei £ Ge") ■■' :r—pjiAGase# - --- ■--..--SiOg&w:-'*;:.’- fjm .ttyjlHMH ,. 1 * -•-, -'yW!> mpgwTy jiwji* «w*» , $. — " W Bspspygpr we*».< 0 ‘'-‘UN** gjtowwaiwfrtoi ******* iS%? j icmsmzmfmm 4 i&MirzS I , ■ if*?-. ' & ■ * i HtcCBUM & DERN, rot. ' the ALTOONA tribune. ; H.C. DKKN, > 3. *ey*' % O Vu»BWW A*» HOWUItOM. „ on , M.yabi»iu»»ri»bly iu »t Strictures, Affections of the Kidneys and BUd ■ smluatarv DUcliargos, liupotency Ocneral Debilily. Dvspepsy, Languor, how Spirits Confusion Vi S’palpiition of the Heart, Timidity,Trembling.,, ;,V of Sight or Giddiness. 'Disease of the Heed. v .'i Vest or Skin, Affections of the Liver, pongs, Stom ■ ''r Bi«elo—those Terrible disorder* arising from the ‘■Vxft lUbits of Youth—those secket and solitary prac ": u ’ . (aul to theii victims than the song of Syrens to ’.’‘'Mariners of Ulysses, blighting their most brilliant . .. ~i anticipations, rendering marriage ,4c . impossi- YOUNG MEN v. t Ilv who have become the victims of Solitary * ice, ami destuctivo habit Which annual.* sleeps • in natiiuelr gi ave thousand* of Young Men of the most r ,j'oi uients and brilliant intellect, who might other -1 have entranced listening Senates with t'*e thunders ~;.,(joencet or waked to ectavy the living lyre, nmy call ,na full confidence MARRIAGE 'Urne\ ic.. speedily cured. ' i{ c w |, b places him-vl! under the care of Dr. J. may tv* yi.u-U'cvuti'ie in hi* honor a * a gentleman. and confi- Mitlr r»*lv upon hi* skill as a physician. ‘ ORGANIC WEAKNESS itr.uwdi*l*lr Cured, and full V isror Restored. Tlii* Diitreesing Affection—which rendera Life miserable ■.ai marriage impossible—is the penalty paid by the improper indulgences. Young persons are to , pl t 0 commit exces e- from hoi being awaie nf the dread ya-.miequeuces that may en*ue. Now. who that under t.aU the subject will pretend to deny that the power of ■•ncffitiuß Is lost sooner by t!»o«c falling into improper iM* than by the prudent? Besides being deprived the ;I«iorea of healthy offspring, the most serious and de.- t^nive:svmptom‘s to both body and mind arise. The usiem becomes Derang'd, the Physical and Mental Func :.'D* Weakened. Los- jf Procreative Power, Nervous Irri aiility. Dyspepsia, Palpitation of the Heart, Indigestion Coa*iituti«mal Debility, a Wasting of the Frame, Cough, .vimuoption. Decay and Death. omce. NO. 7 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, L4 by early habits of youth, viz: Weakness'of the Sack and Lhabs, Pains in the Head, Dlmress of Sight, - of Muscular Power, Palpitation of the Heart. Dys- P*l« V > Nervous Irritability, Derangement of the Diges '■* functions, General Debility, Symptoms of Consump ■»s .ic. MjXTAiu.-»The fearful effects of the mind are much to •< ir-a-letl-iL »ss of Memory, Confusion of Ideas, De ' ‘Tikin of spirits. Evil-Forebodings, Aversion to Society. vSf-Dbtnwt. Love of Solitude, Timidity. Ac., are some of 'StocHvDS of persons of all ages can now Judge what is -'•tuse of their declining health, losing their vigor, bo ‘••miag weak, pale, nervous and emaciated, having a sin- appearance about the eyes, cough and symptoms of „ YOUNG MEN have injured themselves by a certain practice in •3‘jed in when alone, a habit frequently learned from iT ii or at school, the effects of which are %Wy felt, even when asleep, and if not cured readers **rmg B iraposlble, and destroys l>oth mind and body, • 'aid apply immediately. W s pity that a young man, the hope uf bis country, :fi - darling of hi* parents, should be snatched from all ■•rt*p«cts and enjoyments of life, by the consequence of Stating from the path of nature, and indulging in a -*ruio secret habit. Such persons MUST, before content r‘itiUC e . MARRIAGE, ••fleet that a sound mind and body are the most necessary to promote connubial happiness. Irdeed, with '-v these. the journey through life becomes y weary pit ■:iajnge; the prospect hourly darkens to the view; the becomes shallowed with despair and filled with the -“Unchoty reflection that the happiness ol another be- blighted with our own. _ DISEASE OF IMPRUDENCE. "hen the misguided and imprudent votary of pleasure r tliroat, diseased nose, nocturnal.paj|h sio the head limbi, dimness of sight, deafness, males on .U*e shin blotches on tlio b«*d. fcicb andextremi progressing with frightful nipidltyvlill at last the of the, month or the bones of the nose fall In, and °f this awful disease becomes a horrid object of ration, till death puts; a period to his dreadful '-"cringe by sending him t»*‘that Undiscovered Country whene? no traveller returns,” w \ rvlancholy fact that thousands Tall victims to ; ai< disease, owing to the unskillfuluess of iguo *Dt pretenders, who, by the use of that Deadly /bison, rain the constitution-and " make the residue of. ••‘•■«n«rsble. STRANGERS t . r- i' 1 aoi year lire*, or health to the cere of the many and Worthless Pretenders, destitute of know!' or character, wh> copy Dr.-Johnston’* ndter l or stylo themselves, in the newspapers, regu* f - r Physicixn*. incapable of Curing, they keep : i tri9iQ l? month after month, taking their filthy and , componmls, or as long ** the smallest fee caa and In despair, leave you'wlth ruined health Drj k* r onr Piling disappointment. llij i® the only Physician advertising. t». Cr^eT »tial or diplomas always hang in Ms office, or treatment are unknown to a!! others, ■ r,m * spent In the great hospitals of Knrope, ■h nJ. coantr J' and a more extensive Private Prac -040 any other Physician in the world.' XK.J ND ORS£MENr OF THE PRESS. ‘ ter a.nd W, /u t k° a "* B< ** cared at this institution, year after . ft . nmflr,w Important Surgical operations ’ $ha ’» t. witnesses! by tho reporters of the •bich i PPct,” and many otVr papers, notices of a Pf > * aml *f*in and. again before the public, nondhnu landing as a gentlemen of character and re >*lty, is a sufficient guarantee to the afflicted. S«i|5J!J °<«ASES SPEEDILY CORED. R*' ™l unleM pmt-p.ii’ and containing a H'tfctto*l^S nth s r^ pIT F»r»on« writing .honUaute p *rioM^ ajlMctUement dMcribing .ytnptom. o ‘' ,r /br the Altoona Tribune. TO A FR3EMDDECEABEO. 1 year. % fi 00 7 00 10 00 12 00 14 00 20 00 40 00 1 76 * 3 00 ' 4 00 6 00 8 00 10 00 14 QO 26 00 And when thepaierayv Of the moon gently fling , i'heir soft mellow light o'er his i»ed . Then seek liis repose And mournfully sing. : A requiem o’er the lone dead. Ballvilui 0., Nov. 2nd, 1*62. From the Evening Chronicle. LINES. Suggested by the Departure of aSister of Mercy fur Vie Seat of War. Oo forth, in God’s name where the war’s din ia joudest. To Corinth, where Dows the heart’s blood of ouT proudest; Take your place near the wounded who tell ou that plain And shrink not, though round you in heaps lie the slain: liaise the young soldier's head fn>m the damp, ry earth Ue was cared fur and loved ip the land uf his bii th; fond mother is near hint, oh! watch his lost* breath, Aud wipe from his pale brow the chill dews of death. Stoop down o’er th« veteran, he is writhing with pain. His aged cheek Ia soiled with the tattle’* dark fepiiD; Moisten his parched lips, which murnfur iu vain With low. quivering accents some well beloved name. Go, ministering angel, where bravo hearts have broken ; Shed the soft tear of pity o’er anguish.unspoken. Fix the warrior's gaze, tho’ ’tis filmed aud dim, n then to redt; Tile wide-spreading: oak In solitude bends. And waves o’er thy slumbering breast Tread lightly, (J stranger, 0 Around his lone tomb: Disturb not his silent repose; Bat plant ye choice flower'- Upoo it to blossom— Tlu- amaranth cypre** and ro*e. A CORPORAL’S STORY. ALTOONA, PA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1862 should not have cared to be-anywhere else. Some of our young lellows asked me how I liked being pressed from my wife and boy. Well, I said, I should be” glad to go home and see them ; but if it was to sneak out and have somebody else fight for my wife and boy while ll staid at home, I should be ashamed to have my John call me father at that. After a while we all got over grumb ling, and began to take pride in standing hardships and keeping ourselves as com fortable and clean as possible, no matter how had the Weather and how hard the service. One day last December, after a long march in the snow, which slipped, and slushed and melted on our slices, and then froze the shoes still’, we got in late at night and slept, in a big barn in the hay with out supper, or breakfast next morning, for the roads were so bad the wagons could not get up. Well, that morning our Brigadier-General rode down 'to see us We heal’d he was. coining, and every man had his musket bright, and his clothes brushed up, the snow had cleaned our shoes, and our cotton “ dirtteovers,” as the boys called their gloves, were very comfortable in holding a musket on a frosty morning. So we were paraded in linei as for dress parade, and when we presented arms to the General it went like the tie'k of a clock, for we were vexed, and we would have,done it tine that morning if we had died. '* Ah, hah, my fine fel lows," the General said, somebody has been lying about-you. They said you had no supper or breakfast, and that your feet were frozen off you, and that you slept in a barn last night.” We heal'd how he bragged about us afterward, and said that there was not a hay seed on our coats or a ration in the bellies of'the whole regiment. The next day we went into Clear Spring, in Maryland, and that is a [dace tor l n ion soldiers I must say. The people gave us the whole town, and all they had was welcome. It is only a village town but, as one of the girls said to Pat Mahoney, that though there was not a big heap, there was right smart folks there. Here we had a good rest, plenty to eat and a hearty welcome. . The first time we had a scrimmage, with I the secesh was not a long time after this, i We forded the Potomac and marched to- | wards Martinsburg. Cold and wet was i nothing now. and hunger was not to be | talked of. We were at last going to tight j Jackson and Co. We thought our first fight was beautiful. The secesh all ran away as soon as we began firing. They were Virginia Militia. Some of our offi cers wrote home flaming accounts about it, but our Colonel became all at once very severe on us, and said such nonsense wo iffd j spoil us. He ordered us and ordered us i till day and night seemed nothing but or- | ders, and he was very severe on any disc- i bedienee. I guessed afterward what he meant. For the next fight we had I think I found out that obeying orde-s meant not running away. 1 was scared and no mistake. We were inarching in column of divisions expecting work, when suddenly a secesh battery opened on us and one or tw’o' balls came plowing through the column. We looked at one another just ready to run, when the Colonel’s voice came down the line as sharp as a knife: “ Battalion halt. On third division de ploy column. Battalion by right and left flanks, March J" Now as much scared as we were, I really believe that we would have all skedaddled if we bad not been more afraid to disobey orders. I trembled all over, but our company was in the third division, and we had to stand fast while the rest formed on us and the old habit kept us all there. A cold sweat \ stood all over me, but I had no time to j think before the other divisions were double-quicking it through some open woods into line of battle, when wc were ordered to' lie down lilf our battery came up. Pretty soon a Georgia Regiment ad vanced on us down through a dip in the ground, halting occasionally and loading and firing as they came on. The bullets whistled all around but done no harm. Our battery on our right drew the fire-of the secesh battery and we had" an open chante before us. By forming on third division we bad just a slight roll of ground between us and the dip in the meadow in front, and when ;_we lay down the balls from the battery vyould ricochet over us, or go over our heads without striking. A few men got hit with pieces of shell, but nearly all we lost by artillery was from the first firing. The Colonel stood lean ing agajnst a tree at the right, and on the crown of the knoll, as cool as a cucumber, watching the enemy. The surgeon, and assistant ?[nd. band were, picking up the wounded men and carrying them to the rear out of fire. Every now and then the Colonel would turn and look at us lying along the ground, and I could see him from where I was} show his teeth with a j fierce looking kind of grin as he looked at i us. The. same as to say, it seemed to me, ■ just wait ’till I order these fellows at you. ’lt seemed a very short time before the or der came. We fired a, single volley at 100 yards distance and then fixed bayonets, and down we went at double-quick charge, every man yelling to suit himself. The f INDEPENDENT IN EVERYTH ING.J Georgians stood till we were twenty paces from them, and then broke and run for u worm fence, where they tried to rally, but in climbing the fence we came up with them, and the rails flew off and we after them right up on to their battery, which could not hit us without hitting them.—; So we took the battery of four brass guns.' This is all I know about the first battld of Winchester. After we were ordered up to fire and charge I did pot sec any body that looked scared : for my part I did not think about it then, though, till the secesh broke, men were every now and then dropping out of the ranks hit or killed. Our Brigadier-General came down to see us next morning, and we were ordered out to receive him, and he made us anoth er short speech. Says he: “Boys, we have been just learning you a little here, and you have done very well. But lam going to lake you over into McClellan’s corps one of these days, and then I shall expect you to fight in real earnest. But I see your clothes look as nice as usual this morning.” We had a bold talking Ser geant in the color guard, who spoke up Und said : “ That’s more than yours do, General,” which made us all grin. For the skirt of his coat had a hole through it, and his baggage had been stai ted toward Manassas the day before the light, and he had no change, and the hole could only be mended with a patch ; but I suppose for as cool as he would talk to us he was rath er proud of that hole in his coat If he wasn’t we were. We lay at Winchester some days lielorc we marched across the Shenandoah for Manassas, and while lying there I went into the hospitals where our hoys and the secesh wounded were being taken care of. And here I saw somethin" that made me feel pretty had. One of our corporals had a bullet through his thigh, lie was wounded on picket the night be fore the buttle. He had an Irishman on his picket-guard who would smoke his pipe through any tiling and everything. Well, it was cold and damp this night, so Pat lighted his pipe and smoked away, lying down with his shoulders against a fallen tree, tor it was not his relief, and as he could not sleep he said he would take it out in a good smoke. This spark of fire made a good mark, and pretty soon a bullet struck the corporal who was standing some distance from Put. “ Bless the pipe, thiij,” says pat, “for if you had been smoking it, corporal, he would have tired it at you and hit me.” The guard fired back by chance, and afterward ap proached cautiously toward the place from which the shot had been fired. They heard groans which guided them, and Soon came to a badly wounded man, in a far mer’s dress, with a large bore rifle lying by his side. They stopped the bleeding as well as they could, and turned out Put’s relief to cany him and the corporal to the nearest house in our lines. This turned out to be the farmer's own house. But it was deserted of everybody except an old darkey and a little girl about nine years old. It turned out that they had been sent to the house by the girl’s mother, thinking nobody would disturb them, to get some clothes, left behind when they fan away from their home, which they did on hearing that Jackson was coming back to drive us out of Winchester. They went into the mountains, for the father was suspected of Unionism. The father had started from his hiding-place for news, when he was impressed by the sa cesli and made to serve as guide for placing the pickets as he knew the neighborhood. He Said that he had his rifle to protect himself, and I believed him. But when they saw Pat’s pipe, knowing him to be a good shot, they compelled him to fire at i the light, he purposely aimed on one side j and hit the corporal. Our return tire drove away their picket, but wounded him in the chest, and he died in a few days. The darkey went back to the mountains but the little girl would not leave her father, and was car ried to the hospital along with the corpo ral. She staid with him, giving him water, bathing his head, and saying, “ Poor Daddy! poor daddy!” all the while till he died. Pat got a pass to go and see the poor man buried, and the next roll call he was among the missing, and nobody saw anything of Pat for the next tour days, when be came into camp and reported to the Colonel, and pulled out his pass as in nocent as a baby. Upon being questioned about such an absurd pretence ns the pass being good for four days, Pat said he had to go home with the mourner from the funeral. And the fact was, the fellow had taken the little girl home to her mother in the mountains. I do not know if you will think what 1 say of any interest worth publishing.— But I thought a plain soldier's account of what did happen really in this war might encourage some others to enlist just now when we want them; for we have got thinned out somewhat from what we were' at first, and if our people will come into ■our old regiments with names already on their flags, or get up new ones that will do better thanive tou'e, why then it seems to me we can kill out rebellion before it gets old enough to go'alone. And if they don’t come and join ns now, why a great many more will have to come by-aod-by. THE LOST KEY. BY AMY RANDOLPH “ I say Philip, have you seen my .port monnnie ?” Mr. Walter’s brow contracted slightly at the words, and he drew away; the hand which had been caressing his. wife’s pretty hair “ Is that portmonnaie lost again 1” “ Now, Philip.” said the little woman, with a world of pretty penitence in the lightened word, “don’t scold. Upon: hay word it is the first time I’ve mislaid it this whole morning.” “It is too provoking, Cora,” said the iron hearted husband, pushing back; the books on the table, before him with a movement denoting intense irritation.; “ Will you never break yourself off hat carelesrhabit, my love'?” Cora was silent, looking down like a naughty child who had been chidden. “You don’t know what annoyance those careless habits arc to a methodical man like myself, dear,” he: added. In a gender tone, as the coral lips began to tremble and the eyes to suffuse. 4 ‘ Do try to be more thoughtful, for my sake. Here is your lost treasure,” he said, quietly drawing a tiny case of pearl and gold from his pocket. “I found i I lying on the stairs, and thought it a most excellent opportunity for giving my little wife a lesson.” Cora clapped her little hands at the sight of the restored treasure, and danced out of the room in a girlish glee. ” A perfect child,” murmured the hus band, looking after her with a smile -and a sigh blending unconsciously into :one another. Well if I don’t make haste, I shall be too late to meet that engagement on Cedar street. Let me see. the notes-are in my secretary. 1 believe. Nothing like lock ing things up and keeping the keys yourself. It. Cora only followed my example —” Mr. Walter paused abruptly, seeking in all his pockets, with nervous haste," for something that sggmed not to be forth coming. . • l; Very strange,” muttered he, biting his lips". “ 1 always put it in that Vest pocket. Possibly, I may have laid it on the table among those papers. The aforesaid papers rustled hither and thither like animated snowflakes as Mr. Walter hurriedly sought among their con fused masses, but it was all in vain. “ I can’t have lost it,” he exclaimed, in dire perplexity. “ And every one of those notes is locked "up in the secretary, with no earthly chance of ever getting at it. But I am certain the key can’t be lost—l never lose any thing! It won’t do to wait many more minutes. I’ll just put on a clean shirt, and r run down town. Hang that key!” Mr. Walter hastened to his room to complete the details of his toilet ere he left the house, but his trials were not yet des tined to terminate. He was a methodical man, therefore his bureau was carefully locked ; he always kept things in one place, there foie the keys were snugly reposing in one corner of the inaccessible secretary. He rushed frantically back to the library, hoping that the key might be on the man telpiece, where he had not iyet searched No, it was not there, but a treacherous inkstand was —the wherof, 1 . by one unlucky sweep of the elbow, descended in an ebon cataract over his shirt bosom —the shirt bosom upon which alone he had depended. “Well here is catastrophe!” he mur mered gloomily, staunching the inky flow with his pocket handkerchief.” — “ However, I can button my coat over it for the present. Let' me see —there is that money I promised to pay Smith to day, and'—” He stuped short, a cold dew of dismay breaking out on his forehead—the money drawer was a fixture of Ac wretched Sec retary ! Penniless, shiftless and paperless, what more desperate state of affairs could his worst enemy desire for him? 'There was a lower deep yet, however. Would he not be characterless, likewise, if his wife should, hy any inopportune chance, discover that he, the model of rule and order, had lost his key 1 So thought Mr. Walter as he strode off down town to a day of perplex ities and mortification. •* If ever I tease Cora again about losing I things,” he muttered ■ inwardly, as; he entered the tea room on returning home, “I hope to ba drowned with a hundred weight of keys about my peck! It is a judgment sent upon me!” ' He unbuttoned bis coat as bespoke, for getful of the ink stains ofj the morning. Cora uttered a faint scream* and shrank back, exclaiming—, | “My dear Philip, what is, the matter with yoijr shirt bosom 1” i “ The. matter 1 Oh!” saijl be, coloring and laughing. “I remember now—l spilt a Kttle ink oven it tins: morning. It don’t signify much.” “Do lot me get you another, dear.” “No, no,”said he. eagerly detaining her “ it; is not at all worth while* Do sit doejrt and be eatgr, my itpforf"'. ; ' Cora started to carry her baby up tp.the nursery.;: just as she reached the door, EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS^ something jipgled in th® . pocket of her little silk apron. She stopped in the passage. “ Oh! by the way, Philip, here is the key to your secretary. I found it on the dining table, this afternoon, and,” she added, with an arch sparkle of the eye, “l thought if Would be an excellent opportu nity for giving my husband a lesson!”. She put the key in his hand, and ran put of the room, its he recoiled involun tarily from the sound of his own pedantic words As he contemplated the gleaming words of the little mischief maker in mingled delight and mprtiScation, the echo of Cora’s merry laughter on the stain reached his ears like a chime of silver Mis He laughed, too—he couldn't help it! Mrs. Cora Walter was a discreet female. She never , alluded to the subject of keys again, and her husband was never after known to reproach her for carelessness. FEARFUL RAHWAY AD VESTURE. Iu England, railway passenger cars are called carriages, and are built on' the plan of old stage coaches, with entrances on each side. Some years hence thick headed Mr. Hull will probably invent a car similar to Yankee ones, bnt he will never be guilty of taking li. pattern from American outside barbarians. For fear some passenger will get in without paying, the railway carriages of England are- all locked. A passenger shows his ticket, which is then checked, or stamped, and then, the carriage door is unlocked; he gets in, is lucked in, and thus perforins his journey. Free and enlightened young America would not thus suffer himself to be locked up--—hut he. But to our stoiy. A gentleman who was thus locked in, no other passenger being in that par ticular carriage, started on his journey from London to Nottingham on the even ing of September 5 th. He soon fell asleep, and slept, he did not know how long. We will let him tell tbe rest of the story, as he printed it in the Loudon Dispatch of the 18th of September. “ When I awoke it was dark, pitch dark. The light in the roof of the carriage had gone out. But where were we, and why. is it so dark? Above all, why w’ere we not moving! I soon lit a match, but I could see nothing outside but blackness. I shouted, but there was no one to answer, while the sound of my own voice told -me where I was. I soon knew all about it by that time, though I tried to fight off the convic tion. I had got into the last caniageinthe train, and it had somehow become un hitched from its fellows and was left in the tunnel. I knew the tunnel and its length, but where abouts in its hideous blackness was 1? Should 1 get .out? I tried the doors, but they were lacked.— Stretching out my hand, I tried to feel for the wall of the tunnel, shuddering as I thought it would meet me clammy and stone-cold, like the stands of a corpse.— But I could not reach it. Was it the other side? ] passed over to try. Hush? What was that? I drew back my arm instinctively, and sunk down a helpless mass on my seat again. Do you know what it was, reader, that I heard then? It was the snort of a distant engine.— Everywhere before me I saw the gaze of two ferocious eyes, like the eyes of a wild beast in his den, and I knew that every snort was bringing the monster steadily closer. Nearer still. Another minute less—and where should Ibe 1 Mutilated fragments of a human body once my own, whirling away in all directions, rose up to answer that question as it phased through my mind. Nearer still. It takes but a second, say the wise and learned, to Lring before a man his whole life; but in that strange moment, instinct as it was, with a horrible and fascinated excitement I saw only the ferocious eyes, and heard the voice of my young brother, dead long years ago, calling upon me to come and save him, as he was wont to do in his de lirium. Nearer still—and the'carlh quiv ered beneath nic, and thunder filled my ears. There was a whirling rush, a quick wind, and then the roar going off into the distance again. When Leonid think of myself, I found that 1 was sitting doubled up, shrinking as a man wunld from a .threatened blow, and my hands were clenched till I felt the smart of the hails in my flesh. The train had chanced to be on tl}6 other line of rails, or I had not been sitting here now to write my ad venture. An engine was dispatched to bring up the missing carriage, as soon as the fact of.rits having been left behind was discovered, and thus your correspon dent was rescued from his dreadful and frightful situation. O'A one-legged orator, named Jones, was pretty'successful in banteringan Iriifc? man, when the latter asked hitii: M 'Hdir ' : did you tome to loso your leg ?” « Wefl, w said Jones, “on examining my pcdigfee and locking upon my descent, ! fouiid there was, some Irish Wood in me, and becoming convinced it was settled inth&t left leg, I had it cut off at once." the powers,” said ’Pat, uff av good thing if it had only, settled inTonr head.” ■ . : f •I- £ f , i-* • j-r> , .1 NO. 41.