ifMmosL
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devoted to
&&sssa*&
P^^SSiJSs
g.sW»«K?«ytf> «ad fl«E;
B^ssag^i
fp.MlfMal)ii|, SdB»»Z r
BtSsf^Ssttei?'
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I *ad manTtook,
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til
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BTt-tS
AND BAKEBY!
RSIGNBD ANNOUS
• of Altoona and vicinity that he
■eraoNAßiea nets, spices
Wile-ejtuyeaaly for the Holidays.
■««*» on hand a goodalock of plain
KJWn mannfactnre. .
•ONES, RAISINS, &C.
•saadna of thayear.
Sugar* Molasses, BnUer.
WHITE WHEAT FLOUR.
EpODR, CORK MEAL, AC.
■finite In term or amall quantities,
pride my aloek and yon-will Bad
la any in town.
JACOB WISE, -
TIONERY
STEK SALrOON,
iCRIBKII’ WOULD IX-
*n»pf Altoona and vicinity that hU
.MJT and FKCIT STORE, Ualwsj.
9 Mat articles to be hud, And itrgrcat
Jan 1
SR SALOON
, ia (Whkh lie will serve up OTBTEES
! \
BJSJSAJ) c£ PIES oUoays on hand.
PPpwtta supply cafcefl* candles, ic.,
irtiee. He invitee a share of public
£he can render foil satisflurtion to
land wioon i* on Tirefafa>tt*et.tvD
*aJ»- OTTO BOBSI.
8-W
INGER’S
sews Agency,
No. 7, MAIN STREET
»OKS. BLANK BOOKS,
CONFECTIONARIES
i Sc TOBACCO,
»NSIN GEEA? VARIETY
tXfIX OS BAND.
>YD & CO.,
- ALTOONA, AL
'N, JACK & CO.,
' BOLLmATSBCItO, PA
STEERS,
: Jahtulon, Jadc^Co”)
m Tfiß iPJBINGIPAL
rer]«nd
-BltA€Tl€
tinrfnrw, and *6^55^%
« una '
agajgggjgs^
police g-azett®'""
nf- flflSMiflMfifc*'
•*
fSajfiSS^"
ssifer
r°4«n<to.
fDS WX)^IJ)JS£
«fr-«?W
are B ! 0 ”
mm:
Ipp:*.
McCRUM & DERN,
VOL. 7
THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE
U- C: BKRN
PUBUBHBRB ASB PROPEIITORS.
. , payable invariably in advance,) $1,60.
Vr'.-ii-cf' li"continueii at the expiration of the time
,1 j'.T
W.« i «- » » 40
*' .mi*- ; s line*) -*0 I 00
" ' (10 il ) 1 00 1 50 2 00
. ,04 - J .. 1 50 3 00 v 2 50
’“"Jr three week* and lew (ton three month*, 26 cent*
for each inwtlop:
’’ r 1 Smooth*. 0 month*. 1 year
,|''i so $ s oo $ 5 oo
. 2 50 4 00 7 00
. 4 00 6 00 10 00
. 5 00 S 00 12 00
6 00 10 00 14 00
’. 10 00 14 00 20 00
lum“ '.46 00 40 00
6M
uaracter or IndiVidual in.
will be eliar-ted according to the chore rate*. •
VlvertUemen ,* not marked with the number of ln»er
.ieiired. will be continued till forbid and charged no-
Hincr t.. tho shore term*.
r notices five cents per line for every in*ertlon.
Obituary notice exceeding ten line* «fty cent* a aqna f
iiiK* ur
♦a*
i‘*o
r-; r t?«
BALTIMORE LOCK HOSPITAL
tNt4»US««O ASA REFUGE FROM QUACKEttIT
faa Only Place Where a Cure Can
1 be Obtained. ' , L
» vll JOHNSON has discovered the
■ } !u .„t Certain. Speedy and only Effectual
oVwnrld for all Private Disease., W eakness of
i Strictur,-.. Affections ol the Kidneya and Blad-
Discharges. Impoiency. General Deldlity.
v a«nt--i. Dyupcpiiv. Languor. Low bpint*. Confusion
.Vu.".,T'«U.itttlon of the" Heart. Tim.dity, TremWinw,
, „f Sieht or Giddiness. Disease of the Head.
, V-.,,.. .."skill. Affection. the Liver. Lungs. Stoin
-1 "■i,\»vi.ltlio«e Terrible disorders arising from the
. ' iurv Habits of Youth-those secret and solltaryqirac
. .. mir ,. fatal to theii victims than the song of ..yrens to
Mariners of Ulysses, blighting their most brilliant
i,- or anticipation!!, rendering myriage .Ac , impossi-
YOUNG MEN
, llv w ho have become thp victims of Solitary > ice.
,Jtt‘r--idfu! mid dentuctive habit which annually sweeps
■ ! .I'/uiitiiiifly glare thousand* of Young Men pfth« most
v r,h- A t il••utf* and brilliant jiit.-Uect. who might othei
i . t v entranced listening Senates with tb* thunders
..r waked to ectasy the living lyre, may call
> \]< tail confidence
marriage , .
'lirrifl P-reom. "r Young M>-n cotemplatins niurtiage,
,av;.r.' ~f physical trcmkoi**. organic iWuiity. debt
i-.. --pet-diU cun-.L „,, ,
‘i- All.. hinn-ll under Lh- cure uf Dr. J. may re
,-i .U.lv cn!i.l- in his lionur us u gentleman, and -conn*
i-.-iiv n lv uniui Ills skill as u liliysiciiin.
ORGANIC WEAKNESS
i lim-.liiu-lv Cunnl. mill full Vigor Itestorcil. _
T.ii- Di-tressiiig Affection—wliich rrrulers Lif- imserulile
ml rriu S e impossiliU—i* tin- neUHlty puitl by lh.-
»-etim* of improper 4«liils«np-s. .Young [.'r,cns are to
,i ■ , - nninil exres es from inn being nwnie of the drc.nl
iil i .useijil-noos that may ensu-. Now. who that under
: mi, the subject will pretend to .b uy that the power of
.. r-uli -n is lost's-i ini-r bv those falling into improper
~l„l, than by tin- prudent? Besides being deprived the
-asm-os of healthy, offspring, the most serious and ‘if
-T-.i-iiV symptoms to both body and mind arise. The
system hecmies Deranged, the Physical and .Mental func-
I'.ina Weakened. Loss recreative Power, V-rsous lir.-
t ibility. Dyspepsia, Palpitation of the Heart. Indigestion
-institutional Debility, a Wasting ofthe frame. Cough,
.uismcpiioii. Decay and Death.
OFFICE. NO. 7 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET.
i ..!■ »inn.| from Baltimore street, a few doois
n.m the* -MHUT. Fail not nanv* and ni "" hv *
L'tc-T- must b- paid and contain* stamp. The Doc
•irVDmlomus hang in his office
A CURE WARRANTED IN TWO DAYS,
V, Mercury or *V««o«r Drug*.
DR. JOHNSON. , ’vi i
•[••mbc-r of the Royal College of Surgeons, London, Urad
ial- from one oUhe most eminent Colleges in thpiUnlted
and the greater part of whose life has been isf*ent In
Mi-- hospitals of Lsndon. Paris, Philadelphia and eh»e
-Tht-rf, has effected some of the most astonishing cure*
:tnt wiTe ever known; raanv troubled with ringing in the
and ears when asleep, great nervousness, being
darnied at sudden sounds, bashfolness. with frequent
Mushing, attended sometimes with derangement of mind
-0 re cured immediately.
TAKE PARTICULAR NOTICE
Dr. J. addresses all those who have injured them»«Uee
;>v impropeir; Indulgence and solitary habits, which ruin
h-.th b hly and mind, unfitting them for either business.
,:adv. society or marriage. , „
These are some of tlje sad and melancholy effects pro
likM by carlv habits of youth, viz: Weakness of: tUf
ll.uk and Limbs, Pains iu.lho .Head, Dimness of night.
!. .•*> uf Muscular Power, Palpitation of the Heart, pys-
P*mv. Nervous Irritability, Derangement of the Dlge»-
:iv r Functions, Genet*! Debility, Symptoms of Conswnp
1 Mentally. —The fearful effects of the mind are modh to
•• dreaded—L»«s of Memory, Confusion of Ideas,. De-
of spirits,.Evil-Forebodings, Aversion to Society.
'••If-DUtrusL Love of Solitude, Tiraidit), are some of
me evils produced. . • „ {c
TaocSANDR of persons of all ages can now j ndge what is
ih» cause of their declining health, losing their vigor, be
aming weak, pale, nervous and emulated, having a sin
gular appearance about the eyes, cough and symptom* ol
v.ngumption
YOUNG MEN .
vYUo Ikftve Injured themselves by a certain practice ip*
lulz«d in when alone, a habit frequently learned from
vii companions, or at school, the effects uf
•a’htlv felt, even when asleep, and if not cured
'QarrUga and destroys both mind and bpdy.
diould apply immediately. -
What a pity that*‘young man, the hope of his country.
ih. darling of his parent#, should bo snatched from all
prospects and enjoyments of life, by the consequence o
■b rUiiuir from the path of nature, and indulging .in a
. :*rtaln secret habit. Such persons MUST, before cohteip
plating • .
MARRIAGE.
reflect that a f*oun»l mind Mini bmly are the most
to promote connuJjiHl happiness. Indeed, -wltli
out these, the journey through life becomes a weary.pll
primage; the prospect hourly darkens to the riewj the
mio«l becomes shadowed vrith despair and filled with the
n» ,‘laocholy reflection that the happiness ot another be*
‘‘■•men blighted with our dwn.
DISEASE OF IMPRUDENCE. ]■
When the misguided and Imprudent votary of plwure
and* that he has imbibed the seeds of this painful cus
it too often happens that an 111-timed sense of shatne,
>r dread of discovery, deters him from applying to ;fboae
«h », from education and respectability, can alone bp
fii-ud him. delaying till the constitutional symptoms of
triis horrid disease make their appearance, such as ulcera
te I wre throatvdiseased nose, nocturnal pain s in the head
aad limbs, dimness of sight, deafness, nodes on the Shin
b-jues and arms, blotches on the head, and cxtteml
progressing- with frightful rapidity, till at last the
palate of the'mouth or the bones of the nose fall In» and
the victim of this awfurdisease becomes a horrid object of
HumUeratlbn, till death puts a period to his dreadful
'ufferings, by sending him to “ that Undiscovered Country
from whence no traveller/returns” „ . . .
It Is » mdancholu fact that thousands fall victims to
tu-<j t**rrible disease, oUdog to the anskillfulness of|gno*
’.'Uit prrt'mders, who,.»3fJtbe use of that Deadly Fpttoiu
ruitTthe constitution and make the residue of
Uff mineable. ■ 1,1 • '
r.StRANGERS , _
Trust not health to the cfire ,of the way
I’nlearned’ and Wort&Afi& Pretender*, destitute of knowl-
Mire. n;ime or char«r»ft| Wlv> copy I>r. Johnaton’fljMver
tis-meiin. or atvlo thpnwelves, in the newspaper®*; regu
larly Educated Physician®. incapable of Coring, they keep
yon trifling month . after'morith, taking their fluky anq
{iolionona compounds, or as lone as the smallest fee can
obtained, and in despair, leave you with ruined health
to sigh over yonr gallingidUappointmeut.
I>r. Juhniton is the only Physician advertising.
Hia credential or diplomas always hang in his office,
Uw remedies or treatment are unknown to all others,
prepared from a life spent In the great hospitals of JSurope,
th® first in the country and a more extensive Private JprM*
h’ce than any other Physician in the world.
, L indorsement of THE PRESS. :
The many thousands cured at this institution. y«tf after
year, and the numerous important Surgical operations
performed by Johnston, witnessed by the reporter* jof the
‘-Sun,” Clipper, 5 ’ and many -other papers, notices of
which have appearedlagain and again before the ipnbllC,
besides hisstanding m a gentlemen of character and ro*
iponslbiUty, is a sufficient guarantee to the afflicted. ;
v SKIN DISEASES SPEEDILY CURED
h o letters received, unless post-paid and containing a
stampto be nsedonthe reply persons writing shook! slate
•|®*nd send portion of advertisement describing symptoms
Person* writing should be particular in directing their
Utters to this Institution, in the following manner.?:
JOHN M. JOHNSTON. M. 6.,
Of th. Baltimore Lock Hoipiul, Herjl.
A 0
ttlic Aitoomi Irilmnt
f EKM* or ADVSfcTiSIHO
2 do. 3 do.'
1 insertion
ibe mdse’s §ctm.
THE
CARRIER'S AHITUAL ADDRESS
TO THE
FRIENDS & PATRONS
or THE
AlUom Tpibaae.
Kind patrons, did von hearthat alarm last night?
It startled me up in a wild affright—
Twas the dread alarm of that creating old bell
That rings for each year a funeral knell.
1 was sleeping sweetly in my room alone.
When, mingling its sound with a wail and a groan,
Its notes so discordantly fell on my ear,
That—although a bravelad—l trembled with fear;
And gazing around 'mid the darkness so dread,
I beheld what seemed like a ghost from the dead,
With a face all ]xtllid, and deep linos of care,
And long bony fingers, hnd snowy-white hair.
A moment I gazed then much calmer I grow.
For that face so pallid I very well knew.
And, thongh now he no longer seemed in his prime
Yet I could ; not mistake—'twas old Father Time,
That same dear old friend, who oft mot me in yore,
But more pallid and sad than ever before;
More trembling his form and more gloomy hi- mien,
More tattered his garb than I ever had seen ;
A tear-drop seemed starting afresh from his eve.
““And fond hopes” he said “are bonf only to die.”
“All! how fondly I hoped on last New-Year's day,
That fair Sixty-two, then so youthful and gay,
In mera’ry might stand, when she had long gone,
With much less of gloom than the year Sixty-one.
That hope from my brow, took the sadness it bore
When that dear one had gone t’return never more
And then, Oh! howfcfondly I clasped to my breast
The new-given year, that I hoped would be bless'd—
Blesa'd with th' bright dawnings of plenty & peace;
Bless'd with th’ glad hour when war's havoc should
cease.
I watched for this as her life sped away; j
1 watched at the morn and the close of each day; i
Swift, I saw her dark wintry hours passing by, :
And in Spring-time the sun painting life on her sky: j
Then I saw her put on her bright robes ot green— j
A garment more lovely than that of a queen —
And X wove in her hair midth' first summer show'rs
A beautiful garland of Earth's fairest tlow’rs.
And then wrapp’d around her in plenteous fold
A harvest adorned with the richness of gold.
Over all the mantle of Autumn I threw. |
The forest all tinted—the sky bright and blue; j
Vet with all this lustre, this beauty aud pride, I
Sixty-two with sorrowful visage has died—
Aye! has laid her down in her brown leafy bed,
Is numbered with those that forever are dead."
Thus he spake; and again he said with a sigh—
“ The fond hopes of earth are born only to die."
, Just then he turned to pass out at my door.
But I asked him to stay and converse with me more.
He shook his white head and he answered me “ No,
But if more you fvould hear, with me yon must go.”
So I drew on my coat and button’d if tight.
And journeyed with him mid the giooiß of the night,
Across the dark- heath, away over the stream.
I went, half awake andiialf in a dream.
Until we at last, In the dark forest drear,
Stood side by side with the corpse of; the year.
And there as we stood in the silence and gloom
Beside the dead year's dark and newly made tomb,
With faltering accents Old Time said to me:
“ Now hear what vou mar and see what you can see.”
- • - . i . -.
And thus he continued to talk to me there
While on his brow, deeper grew each line of care:
“My dear child that is gone—the dead Sixty-two
To each one was.kind—to each one was true.
She gare to the sad both a smile and a tear,
And she gave to the weary glad words of cheer;
She scattered the sunshine throughout her brief
hours, ' J
And she brought in her: hands bright boquets of
flowers.
Yet what contrasted sounds have greeted the ear
In the days that are gone., of the fond old year!
On contrasted scenes has she gazed with her eye,
Ere she laid her down on her brown ,conch to die.
She has heard blessed words in the; temple of God
As men dwelt in his love, or bow’d ,‘neath his rod;
She has beard words of cursing, fearful to tell—
Words which were born in the dark vaults of hell;
And she has heard mirthful songs, passing by,
In bright halls where wine-cops Were sparkling
high,
And ’mid scenes of glee where the gay bridal throng
All united in strains of gladness and song;
And she has heard'the cry that ha 4 gone abroad
From the altar-stone of the living God,
When the walls of Zion seemed ready to fall.
And sin o’er her beauty drew a dafk pall.
She has heard the wind at the opting of day
As it brushed the dew from the grass away;
She has .heard the fierce shriek of jwikl despair
As it rent with anguish the darkened air;
And she has heard the shouts of wild.delight
As to the homeward bound, land same in sight;
She has heard the cry of horror and dread
As the vessel’s freight joined the sheeted dead,
When the stormy sky and the briny foam
Watched o’er and wrapp’d them in their long, last
home;
She has heard sweet songs of the “ Shining Shore”—
And th’ musketry rattle and the cannon roar; :
And, falling to sleep with her own parting breath, ’
She has heard deep moans from-the pule lips'of
death.
She looked on th’darkness when night held its sway,
Nor slept while aWaiting th’ approach of th’ day;
She has seen in her course the dawning of morn
When the day from the womb of this night was bom j
She has looked on the Snn shedding forth his light
When painting the Earth so gorgeously bright;
She looked on die robes pale Winter had spread
When nature seemed almost to sleisp with the dead;
She saw Earth again awake from its sleep,
Smiling with joy or with gladness to weep;
ALTOONA, PA., TUESDAY, JANUARY 6, 1863.
She has seen the flowers in bright beauty bloom I But were I the hist ry of last year to write.
And decay, then carry tjhem back to the tomb; j When a thousand pages were unroll'd to your sight,
She has «*n joy’s fountain in purity flow, ; I still would hate use for my pages and pen,
While happiness brilliatW lighted the brow; j For the history still would be imperfect then.
She has seen the desert* d while tears dimm’d her j Bet us fondly hope and pray unto God,
sight ' That soon He will raise his chastening rod ;
Still watching in vain 'mid the gloom of the night; j Cause war, with its horrors and havoc to cease.
Honest toil she has seen retire to its rest, ! And shed o’er Sixty-three bright beams of peace. .
While the head but a pillow of strew has press’d; | But, friends, do not wait till that joyous time come
And designing rogues, near by, she has known, jl° pay U P the printer and gladden his home—
Besting bn satin—but aias! not their own; 1 And Oh! don’t mix my bright hours with alloy,
The soldier has slept ojthe cold moist ground, |By entirely forgetting the CARRIER BOY.
And contractors on beds neath blankets were found! | Jamahv Ist, 1863
But snch scenes as these have often before
Mark’d years that have jone to return never more.
But ah! scenes much me re mournful—scenes much
more dread
Have marked the last year as onward it sped ;
Th’ political, sky has beau clouded all o’er,
And the setts of conflict Itave seemed without shore;
Nations upheaving-bn bvery hand,
And governments toppling, while thrones merely
stand,
And the God that created can only know
What next may occur—where fall the next blow.
In our once happy land, the brightest and best
On which did the Sun's gAlen beams ever rest.
The clouds have been gathering more fearful to
view—
Reverses 100 numerous—successes too few.
When the vo;i r Sixty-two was tirst ushered in,
Wc hoped ere its close co hear the host din
Of the contiie; which tjhen drenched the fields in
red gore:
We hoped that war’s evils would all have pass'd o'er;
And successes there were which seemed to throw
light
All over the clouds of treason’s dark night.
Fort Donelson fell, but loyal men bled,
And many, ah I many, were found with the dead;
And Old Floyd, who's been stealing this many a day,
Thought best to steal his own carcass away 1
He left Gen'rul Buckner to do a< he could,
But as for himself, he did as he would.'
The next thing of note was at Isle Number Ten,
Where Pope captured glms, ammunition and men.
Like at Babylon once—they there turned aside
The w aters that How injiin on-rushing tide,
And nnule it, an instrument mightily strong.
To forward the work Of! Freedom along.
At Winchester, too, we the battle-field gained.
But with many hearts saddened —many garbs
stained. j
Then Pea Ridge in history first wrote its name, j
And gave to its heroes a world-wide fame. *
At Shiloh again the contest we won,
Bnt 'twas only by deeds of valor twas done.
For thousands had sunk- with an upheaving sigh—
The dead ones to sleep, and thq wounded to die.
And Yorktown, that spot in our history so dear,
Was the scene of a convict within th’ last year.
McClellan then before Richmond sat down.
While his deep-mouth’d guns in anger did frown ;
But malaria swept through his camps its fierce tide,
And warriors un-lain. from diseases there died.
Till disappointment did his plans disarrange,
And he was compelled his position to change.
Seven days did he fall most skillfully back,
But crimson ami gore was left in his track.
Aye! there thousands fell, from their homes far
away —
No mothers to soothe and no fathers to pray.
Fort Jackson, Fort Phillips and New Orleans fell,
Anti Butler threw over) the “ Crescent ” a spell,
For in th’ proud city he made proclamation
Which created a noise all over the nation;
But still, all unmoved, (the old hero stands forth
And battles his foes both in South and the North.
At Roanoke Island Burnside was best.
Although in a very rough garb he was dress’d ;
He led his men forth in battle array,
And Wise thought it best to hasten away.
Banks down Virginia’:! fair vale did retreat.
Lest, outnumliered, he there might suffer defeat.
Rapidly backward his movement he made,
j Vet many were left in death lowly laid,
From their homes far away, on Virginia’s plain,
On the many red fields where were heaped up the
slain.
-Both Corinth and Bull Run were re-bathed in
blood—
The first with success, the last not so good!
We were forced again with reluctance to yield,
And fell back from Bull Run’s twice crimsoned field.
Then Rebellion, lifting its Satanic form, , -
Determined fair Liberty’s Temple to storm.
With haste they cross’d over Potomac's swift tide,
And landed their troops on the Maryland side; \
They threatened the Keystone to pluck from the
arch,
it, if you’ll give me a quart o’ beer a
day as long as I’m in the mills—you’ll
save that ten.”
Mr. Peel rather thought he should, and
quickly agreed to the terms.
“ You shall have it Dick.”
“ Well, then,” said Dick, first looking
cautiously round to see that no one was
near—“ this it be,” and putting his lips
close to Mr. Peel’S ear, he whispered ;
“Chalk your bobbins!”
That was indeed the great secret. Dick
i had been in the habit of furtively chalk
-1 ing his bobbins; which simple contrivance
had effectualy prevented the adherence of
I the cotton. As die bobbins were white,
; the chalking had escaped detection.
Mr. Peel was a sagacious man, and
saw through the affair at glance. He at
; once patented the invention, had “ chalk
| ing” machinery contrived, and soon took
i the lead in the cotton spinning depart
i ment. This was the foundation of his
' princely fortune. It is but right to add
ing waves, , i that he pensioned off Dick handsomely,
And many bravo hearts on her deck found their
gram;: e
How the Mcrrimac then was encompass’d around,
And in th’ same wat'r i shroud a resting place fonnd.
And straight into Boston their legions to march 1
But “Mac” was sent out their divisions to meet,
And he made them back to Virginia retreat—
But not till Antietara was written in gore I
On history’s page for time ever more. j
Then into Pennsylvania Stewart made a dash, j
With movement as brave as to us it seemed rash; I
And as the militia bad all marched away,
A few of our towns Under tribute did lay, 1
“Little Mac” was removed and Burnside com- |
mands, i
And soon the surrender of Pred’ric demands! |
i But rebellion was yet junwilling to yield,
| And hotly with Burnside contested the field.
‘ Brave battle was done on that blood-crimsom’d
plain,
i But efforts were spent and blood shed in vain.
! Great discussion arose on whom blame should fall,
I But Burnside has nobly taken it all.
| On the water, the Merrimac's deeds I might tell,
; How the Monitor met her, timely and well;
■ How the Lawrence went down ’mid the dark rnsh-
fINDEPENDENT IN EVERYTHING.]
frtwt f||is«Uanj».
Every one knows that Sir Robert Peel,
father of the late Prime Minister of Eng
land, and grandfather of the present bar
onet. made his money by cotton-spinning.
1 n the early part of his career his business
was not remarkable extensive, but sud
denly he made a tremendous start, and
soon distanced all bis rivals. He grew
immensely rich, as we all know, but we
do not ail know the lucky accident to
which he tVas indebted for his enormous
wealth.
In the early days of cotton-spinning ma
chinery, a great deal of trouble used to be
caused by filaments of cotton adhering to
the bobbins or tapes, which then formed
portions of the looms. These filaments
accumulating, soon clogged the wheels and
other parts of the machinery, and ren
dered it necessary that they should be
cleared, which involved frequent stoppages
and much Joss of time.
The great desideratum was to find out
some plan of preventing this clogging by
the cotton, and Sir Robert, or Mr. Peel,
as he then was, spent vast sums in expe
riments. He employed some of the ablest
machinists in the kingdom—among them
James Watt —who suggested various cor
rections, but in spite of all they could do,
the inconvenience remained—the cotton
would adhere to the bobbins, and the evil
appeared to be insurmountable.
Of course these delays seriously affected
the wages of the operatives, who, on Sat
urdays, generally came short in proportion
to the stoppages during the previous days.
! It was noticed, however, that one man
I always drew his full pay—his work was
1 always accomplished—in fact, his loom
never had to stop, while every other in
the factory was idle. Mr. Peel was in
formed of this, and knew there must be a
secret somewhere. It was important that
it should be discovered, if possible.
The man was watched but all to no
purpose; his fellow-workmen tried to
“ pump” him, but they couldn’t; at last
Mr. Peele sent for the man into his pri
vate office.
He was a rough Lancashire man —un-
able to read or write—little better than a
mere animal. He entered the “ Presence”
pulling his forelock ; and shuffling on the
ground with his great clumsy wooden
shoes.
“ Dick,” said Mr. Peel, “ Ferguson, the
overlooker, tells me that your bobbins are
always clean—is that so !”
“Ee’s, Master, ’t be.’.’
“ Well, Dick, how do you manage it—
have you any objection to let me knowt”
“ Why, Master Pill, ’t be a soart o'
loike, ye see, and if oi told, t’others'd
know’s much as oi,” replied Dick, with a
cunning grin.
“Of course, Dick, I’d give you some
thing if you’ll tell me—and if you can
make all the looms in the factory work as
smoothly as yours.”
“ Ev’ry one’n them, Master Pill.”
“ Well, what shall I give you ? Name
your price, Dick, and let me have your
secret.”
Dick grinned, scratched and shook his
great head, shuffled for a few minutes,
while Mr. Peel anxiously awaited his re
ply. The cotton lord thought his servant
would probably ask a hundred pounds or
so, which he would most willingly have
given him. Presently Dick said:
“ Well, Master Pill, I’ll tell ’ee all about
Boldness with discretion securethan
ultimate success.
‘ CHALK YOKE BOBBINS ”
MAEY MALONEY'S idea of a
LOVEB.
“ What are you singing for t” said I to
Mary Maloney.
“ Oh, I don’t know ma’am, without its
because my heart feels) happy.”
“ Happy are you, Maty Maloney ?
Let me see, you don’t own a foot of land
in the world.”
“ Foot of Land is itt” she cried, with
a hearty Irish laugh. “Oh what a hand
ye be after joking! why, I haven’t a
penny, let alone the land.”
“ Yoifr mother is dead.”
“ God rest her soul, yes,” replied Mary
Maloney with a touch of the genuine
pathos. “ May the angels make her bed
in heaven.”
“Your brother is still a hard case, I
suppose.”
“Ah, you may well say that It is
nothing but drink, drink, and.beating Ms
poor wife, that she is poor creature.”
“ You have to pay your sister’s board.”
“ Sure, the bit creature, and she is a
good little girl, is Hinner, willing to do
whatever I axes her; I don’t grudge the
money that goes for that."
“You haven’t many fashionable dresses,
either, Mary Maloney?”
“ Fashionable, is it? Oh, I put a piece
of whalebone in my skirt, and the calico
gown looks as big as the great ladies.
But then ye say true, I haven’t but two
gowns to me back, two shoes to me feet,
and one bonnet to me head, baring the
old hood ye gave me.”
“ You haven’t any lover, Mary Ma-
loney ?”
“Oh be off wid ye!—ketch Mary Ma
loney getting a lover these days when
the hard times is come. No, thank hoav
on, I ain’t got that to trouble me yet.
Nor I don’t want it.”
“ What on earth, then, have you got to
make you happy? A drunken brother, a
poor helpless sister, no mother, no father,
no loyer—why, where do you get all your
happiness from ?
“ The Lord be praised, miss, it growed
up in me. Give me a bit of sunshine, a
clean dure, and I'm made. That makes
me laugh and sing. And then if deep
troubles come, why, God helpin’ me. I’ll
try to keep my heart up. Sure it would
be a sad thing if Patrick McGuire should
take it into his head to ax me, but the
Lord willin’ I’d try to bear up under it.”
The last speech upset my gravity.—
The idea of looking upon a lover as an
affliction was so droll. But she was evi
dently sincere, having the example of her
sister’s husband and her drunken brother.
HOW HE GOT HIS WIFE.
John W was, or is, a genius.—
He made quite a pile in the Mexican war,
and invested it in a canal boat running on
the Ohio Canal. John was a batehelor,
but in course of time was smitten by the
little god. An old farmer, who lived in
the “ heal” path, near Masillon, had two
rosy-cheeked daughters, but all attempts
to gain an introduction by their admirers,
were foiled by the old man. But John
was nut discouraged. A large chunk of
beef bought off the mastiff, and John pro
ceeded to deliberately appropriate the va
rious articles hanging bn the clothes line.
Chemizetts and stockings, breeches, shirts
and things were crowded in inglorious
confusion into the capacious bag earned
by John pn this occasion. They were
brought aboard the boat and placed in the
l> bow cabin,” to pave the way for an in
troduction on the return trip.
A week after the boat passed the farm
house on its way south; and John jumped
ashore and went to the house. He rep
resented that one of his drivers had stolen
the clothing V that he had discharged him,
and desired to restore the articles. The
ladies were delighted, as the sack con
tained all their “ Sunday fixings,” The
old man said:
“ 1 always thought that all the boatmen
would steal; and I am delighted to find
one honest one. You must call, again,
captain/’
The captain did call again, and soon
after married the “youngest.”
On the wedding night, he told his wife
the rwehe had used to gain an introduc
tion, and the old man gave orders that no
more clothing should be left * out o’ nights.’
A Clever Chap,— A gentleman from
the country, stopping at one of the hotels
in Cincinnati, entered into conversation*
with one of the boarders, asking questions
about the fere, etc. After a tew minutes’
conversation, the boarder drew his cigar
case, saying—■
“ Will you take a cigar, sir f”
“ Well,-I don’t mind if I do,” was the
reply.
The cigar was handed to him; also the
one which our boarder was smbking, for
the purpose of giving him light. He
carefully placed the cigar first handed him
in his pocket, and took his knife and cut
off the end of the lighted one which had
been in the month of his friend, and com
mjenced smoking, saying—’
“It ain’t often a man from the country
runs afoul of as clever a fellow in the city
as you arc.”
EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS.
A KIND ACT AND ITS REWARD.
The Cleveland fkmdeakr sketches an
incident that lately occurred on one of the
railroads running through Ohio. The
sketch is interesting though it is imper
sonal :
The car is fall of weQ-dreesed aristo
cratic passengers. 'The; conductor enters,
and proceeds to collect the accustomed
fare. Presently he comes to a lady in
deep mourning, traveling with three chil
dren, and calls tor her ticket The lady
quickly pots her hand in her pocket for
the same, but it was gone, with the wallet
’’'containing all her money, within which
the ticket had been placed for safe, keep
ing, The ladyis of an exceedingly modest,
retiring disposition, and in an agitated
manner explains why she cannot pay the
fare. The conductor is one of your hard
hearted kind—one of those men without a
particle of feeling—and without taking
into consideration any of the palliating
circumstances of the case, rung the bell,
stopped the train, and the young woman
and her little ones were ordered from the
car. The engineer had not, been ah un
interested spectator of the scene. He had
left the engine and advanced to where "the
lady was standing, looking so distressed
and friendless. The engineer had a big
warm heart. Patting his hand in his
pocket he produced a fifty dollar gold
piece, and handing it to the lady, remarked:
“ Here, madam, take this and get into
the car. It is shameful that you should
be thus treated.”
The lady hesitated about receiving it,,
but was in 4 desperate strait; and after
showering numberless thanks on the noble
engineer, insisted on receiving his .name
and address. She then returned to her
seat in the car, and went on her way.
About a month from this time the en
gineer received a note requesting him to
call at the express office, and take from
thence a package addressed to him. He !
did so. Upon opening the package he
found it contained fifty dollars and qn ele
gant gold watch, seals and chain, Upon
the inside of the case was inscribed the
Golden Rule,' the substance of which is,
“To do unto others as ye would wish
others to do unto you.”
A HEAVY OFFICES.
The otlier day, coming in from Mil
waukee, Olin was conductor of the train,
which bore, besides a large load of passen
gers, a gold-laced chap belonging to Pope’s
staff. He was a dapper little fellow, with
style, but he couldn’t rest at ease. As the
conductor was passing through the cars,
said Mr. Staff Officer:
“ Look heah, conducts w! I paid for a
first-class caw! purchased a first-class tick
et, and want a better caw than this to
ride in!”
“ This is a first-class ear, sir.”
“Well, I don’t see it 1 This is a second
class caw. I have tunneled!”
“ Did you ever see a second-class car
cushioned and carpeted—occupied by gen
tlemen and ladies, before 1”
- “ Don’t know—but I want two seats—
these are all fast, so 1 can’t turn them.
It is not a first-class caw.”
“■Who are yon, sir?”
“laiponeof Gen. Pope’s sir!”
? “ Well, sir, I am sorry you are not
pleased. Had the Bailroad Company
known yon were craning, yon should have
had a new car built expressly for you—
with something very toft to lean your bead
on. If you don’t like this train, I will let
you step off and wait for a Jirst-clasa caw
—which will be on the next freight!”
This being a staff officer is a big thing
—where a fellow can take style, and draw
more pay than blood. —La Crosse Demo
crat.
Luminous. —“ He made a few desultory
remarks,” said the schoolmaster. Mrs.
Partington stopped suddenly in the bustle
she was making around the table for tea,
and gazed over her specks thoughtfully at
him. Leaning on a plate edgewise, as if
to enforce her views by the support it
gave her, “I suppose it was because be
was weak,” said she; “but Ayre’s pills
will cure him. I never knew ’em to fail.
They are very solitary in such., cases.”:
“ Really, madam,” replied hie, “Icannot
guess your meaning.”
“ You said dysentery,” said she, laying
down the plate and putting a spodn in the
preserves. “I said desultory,” said he,
smiling; “quite a different thing.”
“No matter,” said she, looking up in
time to box Ike’s ears, who. was putting
paper down the chimney of the kerosene
lamp. “The pills are good for both 1
dare say, for they cure almost all the dis
eases in the cornucopia^
9* “ My son,” said Spriggles, senior, to
Spriggles,junior, thinking to enlighten the
boy on the propagation of the hen species,
“my son, do you know that chickens
come put of eggs!” “Do theyl” said
Sprigglee, junior, “ I thought eggs came
put of chickens.” Thus ended the first
lesson.' .
«i>We sbould entertain no thoughts
which we would blush at in words. /
NO. 47.