BETTER'S •ok Binderv ANK BOOK MANDFacTORy >4 Markti St. l/arruhtrg, p a abiishuioht is chiefly devote , infkctore af.Hhuik Books for .... CU y J r ’SlMt± mlirjdualt. In HilCMn the S' I—l 1 —I fir* Blank alfora. WwrlffX AitotttqA^ •'<«, uadeend toiled to«de r laeannenta. DnpUcetea, * c , for connr. ‘‘‘“l r plain, ruled and boairf * ort?? ■ of the be*t linen piper. * v,«um r and Olliers, desiring to ban their Bmv. moderate; pricce. ahuald thou largtri alien, Harper'* Wart*. i. **»„ lloua, Scientific American, lamd^*? 011 '* r.aod In any atjle required, llarner.!. **' Knickerbocker, iUart wood'a^uT ‘Mouth, aior’a U.lT’. Book, LadT’.B n wT,. n r T r *^'° , » *, HumJloalc. Ac.,boundinewwuVi^ I *' n and anbatantial half bindina a»£2 . or lasaiinee. Cam ohlat laws, ianmd 1 Tctj moderate price.. Vanomi £lr |am» to Lind, will recelteauSSTil?!' 0 * ‘ afti, be eeut to ,w ttora . J r ;7i w - I work entraatad tonnrearewtnif-1* aafrly packed and maUd. Add rata Jr. LjlcTy|fo*‘~ ■^eriatarv.A, IM A BERN, at the Trdaae j oona. and rldnlty. They wIU iSSi.r • S’Sfff -If '-^SSSS. « ehargoa, for all who ant. net thelfworti,’ [March augag-ir 1 " * ili‘ §S-S i r P w S-- - gu . o B $. ||l 'si C BjW . wf c Hr. >J w* ri‘3 . £ ■H CQ a 5f ■W 13 o 5j.~~ ■■; fiC ■** Hf *** . soS^ R at I-Ml Bl* S z%v K.' £5 g » « K » s-a ■■ e ■ O a 45 < ~ c R* 1/ E HW 5 O £ < a. a if S E lss* W 3asS2li % JCC|£~J | OS* £* " si r/-7/ Iff-: A COB WETS, AND' CONFECTIONER, mnisi* Stun. Altooba, Pa., CONSTANTLY ON HAND AD, CAKES, CANDIES tKATS. of hi* u«n nwnufiwtara, which hs c», whirtcaale or rrtnil. at thf. inott renoi, no, FOREIGN FRUITS, «ucb u iS, LEMONS, PINE-APPLES, NES, RAISINS, NUTS, 4C„ &C„ I in their respective seasons. } BAKED TO ORDER, ocaaton*. on »hort notice and in the uwi le of the art. c* and price my stock and yon will fine ;ueapa* cun be purchased elsewhere. CF,ECTIONERY OYSTER SALOON. I : JiSCU I BEll. tvOULD LV e citUensof Altoona and vicinity that lii« i:UY,iSCT and -KltpiT STUKKJsalwavi In- articles tu be had, and In great ks also an TER SALOON store, in which he will serve np OYSTER* i«l; ;ng the *ph*uu. WD BREAD d: PIES always on hand. mes prejiami to supply cakes, candles. Ac., oihcr partioa. He invite# a share of public viug that he can render foil satis&ction to is state and saloon is.ouTlriKintAftttoet.tvo WonVHall. OTTO ROSSI 10,1861-tf FETTINGER’S •al 2s T ews Agency. LL, No. 7, jIaIN STREET . BOOKS, BLASS BOOKS, KUY, CONFECTION A HIES iKS & TOBACCO, NOTIONS IN GREAT VARIETY 30VSTANTLY on band. 1861. i 1 LOYD & CO., ALTOOHA, PA. TON, JACK & CO., aoLLwjrsßßJta. pa. NKERS, ‘ JhU, Johnson, Saek f C*.”) TS OX THE PRINCIPAL »U SllTf*r ami Ooh? for sale. Cofloctioiii lerdfed ojidejxjsite, p*yalds on waaLo . or upon, time, with Interest at Air rat**- i KESStER—PRACTICAL iIST, respectfully announce* r Altoona and the an «iniinoe« the Draff st. where he keeps constantly Wl) oleesle ami Retail, DatJGS, IiIMJCALS, 0il5; VAKJJISfl uy*s. • rion to business, and s desire to render w* i regards price and quality, he hope* w u a sliare of paUle patronage- ’ . _ I merchants suiipUed on reasonable term** mi a distance promptly attended ** . scriptione carefully compounded* •I I*' 1 *'* 1, I) IT FRIENDS WOULD DO i injipan the choke uul cbMte »•»*• ORifS GOODS n«»f Q raeerfc*- •“"•'‘•JjTiV „ 3. : B. ini.it* l *^ i! AT, TOOTH, SHAV.ING ib nod Tunikh Brtube* • t KR gai J >:*S S JJtS OF printing uly aa«l ezpedtlottfJjp i ALtOONA tß«t7t* w LLAS AND PA RASIM i variety, at ‘ mi. ■ - l LKS CARPETING AA’ 5 cans be fiwod mi ;kal assortment 2' r. «.lr f nd qo*.b« a4southentM<^JS r. b» foqnd *t W 9B !-- •:nt » KAVy' ;^ofpakwm2S 3 VIcCKUM & BERN, V r OL. 8 the.altoowA tribune. ai. rfcCBUM a U. C, OKRN, PCBLiaSC&ri AND PROPRIETORS. r-t .uininii.ipayaWe iiiTarltMjf in adrance,). $1,60. v!i iHcqutimi'*d at the expiration or the time p«i(i for TKKUH OP 4SVXBTItUIG. \ iuiPrtioD 'I do. 3 do. , Jtr .me* urWM $26 | 37}< $■ 60 iM..4iwro. ( 8 Hb«) 50 75 100 1 >• .IS “ ) 100 160 200 n„« - 160 200 2so Otftrcbre* week* and le*« than three months, 'ib ceutft per for each insertion. 1 months. 6 month*. 1 year. tjx lias* or less $1 50 $3 00 s‘s 00 Oussquare, 2 60 4 00 7 00 “ 4 00 6 00 10 00 rh r eo “ 600 800 12 00 faur ...... 600 10 00- 14 00 Half a column 10 00 14 00 20 00 ~o e column 14 00 25 00 40 00 idininistrators and Kxeculors Notice! 1 76 q.-rchants advertising by the year, three squares, With liberty to change rofeulonal or Business Curds, not exceeding 8 tines with paper, per year 6 00 Communications of a political .intruder or indiridoai in ■reet will be charged according to the above rates. Vdrertisemea ,s not marked with the number of inaer- I ml desired, will be continued till forbid and charged ac ...rding to the above lorme. l)u«iuesß notices live cents per line for every insertion, iliilnary notices exceeding ten line-. Sfty cent" a squa e BALTIMORE LOCK HOSPITAL - BafAUhISUBD ASA RKP UGB FROU QU ACKERY Tiß Only Place Where a Cure Can be Obtained- DR. JOHNSON has discovered the mo-t Certain, Speedy and only Effectual Remedy lu ■he world Tor all Private Diseases. Weakness of the Back .',r Limbs. Strictures, Affections of the Kidneys and Blad ier Involuntary Discharges, Impotency, General; Debility, s' .rvoasuess. Dyspepsv. Languor, Low Spirits., Confusion jf Ideas, Palpitation of the Heart, Timidity, Tremblings, Dimness' of Sight or Giddiness. Disease of the Head. Throat Soso or Skin, Affections of the Liver, Lungs..Stom ,-h or Bowels—those Terrible disorders arising from the Solitary Habits of Youth—those secket ami solitary prac ■ IC . S more fatal to theii victims than the soup of Syrens to •h. Mariners of Ulysses, blighting their most brilliant hopes or anticipations, rendering marriage .sc:, impossi ble YOUNG MEN f .McifcUy. who have become the victims of Solitary > Ice, 'll dreadful nod destuctire habit which annually sweeps • i in untimely giavo thousands of Young Men of the most •s;uUel talents and brilliant intellect, who might other* wii” have entranced listening Senates with the thunders ..frequence, or waked to ectasy the living lyre, may call *if.U full confidence. _ MARRIAGE Carried Persons, or Young Meu cotemplating marriage, of physical weakness, organic debility, defer i<:„ spoedilv cured. !!■• who places himself under the care of Dr. J. may re i;,as\v confide in bin honor as a gentleman,;and- confl relv upon his skill as a physician. ORGANIC i iMiedi itftlv Cured, and full "Vigor Kestored. fids Distressing Affection—which renders Life miserable -i marriage impossible—is Hie penalty paid by the ..otimsyfimproper indulgence*. Young persons are to to commit exces es froni uot being awan* of the dread rui that may ensue. Now, who that under »studs the subject will pretend to deny that the power of . : .\n ati.m is lost sooner by tho*e falling into improper ■.■ tints than bv the prudent? Besides being deprived the .■i.-naure* of healthy offspring, the most serious and de • '■•active symptom* to both bmly und mind arise. The i.-.-tem becomes Deranged, the Physical and Mental Func tions Weakened. Loss of Procreativn Power, Nervous Irrl c*»bilitv. Dyspepsia, Palpitation of the H«ort, Indigestion* Constitutional, Debility, a Wasting of the Frame. Cough. ■\ii'umptlon. Decay and Death. OFFICE, NO. 7 SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, be:*: band side going from Baltimore street, a few door* • run tin* corner. .Fail nut lo*observe name and numter. uflters must bo paid and contain a atamp. The Doc tor’s Diplomas hang in his office A CURE WARRANTED IN TWO DAYS. JVb Mercury or yuscons Drugs. DR. JOHNSON. M tuber of the Royal College of Surgeons, London. Grad utte from one of the most eminent Colleges in the United Stile**, and the greater part of whoso life has been spent in th- hospitals of London, .Paris, Philadelphia and ,el*e where, lia* effected some of the most astonishing cures tliit were ever known: many troubled with ringing iu the hov.i and e»rs when asleep, great nervousness, being shrtned at sudden sou.tds, bashfulness, with frequent blushing, attended sometimes with derangement of mind, w*r© cured Immediately. TAKE PARTICULAR NOTICE Dr. J. addresses all those who hare injured themselves by improper indulgence and solitary habits, ruin both body and miud, unfitting them for either business, sta ly, society or marriage. Taut are some of the sad and melancholy effects pro du:ed by early habits of youth, viz: Weakness of the Bvck and Limbs, Pains io the Head, Dituccss of Sight. L .-*< of Muscular Power, Palpitation of the Heart. Dyfc p W’ho have Injured themselves by a certain practice in lalged in when alone, a habit frequently learned from -?vi! com pan lona, or at school, the effect* of which are ■lightly felt, even when asleep, and if not cured render* carriage iraporfible, and destroys both mind and body, »h..aid apply immediately. What a pity that a young man, the hope of hi* country, the darling of hla .parents, should be snatched from all prospects and etyoymenta of life, by the consequence of ievUtiag from the path of nature, and indulging lu a e'jruln secret habit. Such persons mcst. before contem plating MARRIAGE, reflect that a sound ralnd Had body are the most necessary requisites to promote connubi i! hoppings*. Judged, with out the**, the journey .through lift* becomes a weary pil grimage; the prospect hourly darkens to the view; the mind becomes shadowed with despair ami filled with the melancholy reflection that the happine*» ol another be comes blighted wilt) oar own. N DISEASE OF IMPRUDENCE. When the misguided and Imprudent rotary of pleasure dads that he lias Imbibed the seeds of this - painful dis 4fch), it too often happens that au ill-timed acne© of shame, irilread of discovery, deters him from applying to those rh-j, from education and respectability, cun alone bo iVi-ud him, delayme tjU the constitutional aymptoma of livia horrid disease make their appearance, such as ulcera ’ > copy Dr. Johnston’s adver tisements, or style themselves, in the newspapers, rpgu l*rly Educated Physicians, incapable of Curing, they keep you trifling month after mouth, taking their filthy and poisonous compounds, or ns lung as the smallest fee can I*B obtained, and in despair. leave you with ruined health to "igti over,your galling disappointment. Dr Johnston U tho only Physician advertising. His credential or diplomas always hang In his office. Uls remedies or treatment am unknown to all others, prep-wed frjtti a lift* spent in the great hospitals of Kurope, the lint in tho country and a moroextensive PritaU Prac tice than any other Physician in the world. Tw INDORSEMENT OF THE PRESS. The many thousands cured at this institution, year after Tsar, and the numeruns important Surgical operations performed by Johnston, witnessed by the reporters of the Sun,” ‘•Clipper,” and many oth»r papers, notices of which appeared again and again before the public, osiidei hli standing as ji gentlemen of character and re* ■poosHdllty, is a sufficient guarantee to the afflicted. M SKIN diseases speedily cured* pio utters received unless post-paid sml containing a •tviaptobeusedon the reply persons wntlngshould state *l**o4 send portion of advertisement describing symptoms umJI? 0 ?* be particular la directing their tttri to this Institution, in the following manner: flf JOHNM. JOHNSTON, M. 0.. Oftka Baltimore Lock Hospital, liaryland €&oics fosttg. JV* m the Episcopal Recorder. THE CLOCK OFHUMAN LIFE. *Tif one o’clock—the silvery chimes Are ringing toil end low. Over an infant’* cradle bed. As It swings to and fro; While smiling Bear, a mother bends. Listening to the clear bells Kinging the babe's sweet advent hoar. In her heart's deepest wells. Tinkle! tinkle! soft and clear, On the loving mother’s ear. 'Tis two—three—four in merry peals. Bells strike the passing hoar, While bliss poar& in through every senses As on this mortal shore The tripping I'eet of childhood fly. While air, and earth* and sky ■> Are full of Joy, and childhood's bells Are ringing clear and high. Jingle! jingle! clear and high, Ring the bells of childhood's sky. 10 00 Now five and six ring on the ear. In deeper golden notes, Aud tender chimes, and loving peals. Round youth’s sweet dream-life floats. Those notes ore filling every sense Of the young maiden’s life, And their sofV mallow lullaby* Uush every thought of strife. Love me, lore me,-riug the bells. As round feir youth their music swells. 'Tis seven now—’tis eight—*tLs nine; And deeper sounds the bell, Ah in the solemn march of life, They.ring with fuller swell; And tell of strife, and toil, And care. Of grief and sundered ties, And to heart subdued by grief. They are ringing in she sky, Of rest above, where Jeans dwells, Come home, come home, they faintly swell. ’Tis ton o’clock—the vanished hours Ring out their warning tones; The silver notes of infancy And golden chimes are gone.' The past is all a tlaetirig dream: The future, oh, how grand! As 'mid its deep and solemn peals With parted lips we stand. Ding-dong, ding-dong, it slowly rolls. , Pealing the requiem of souls. The clock has struck eleven—hark! The awful moments pass, ’Mid muffled bells we hear them. dK Abd watch time’s hopr-glas*. Solemn and 'slow, wo hear their knell. They ring of ended strife. There’s more of tender joy than grief Which tell* of endless life. . Ob! Joyful knells, life’s evening bells. Of conflicts past, their, music tells. ’Tis twelve o’clock—the midnight hour Kbits out its thrilling knell, Ah! not of grief, and not of death. Does its deep tolling tell. To Christian.so«ls-j»o high! so grand! Are the bright hopes, it rings, ( That ’mid die solemn knells of time,. The parting spirit sings, As midnight bells fade soft away, ’Tis endless one in upper day. 'Tis endless one in that bright world, One everlasting day; Honrs have pealed their last farewell. And minutes passed away. Tis one effulgent, brilliant noon, One flood of.light ami love; Ono.solemn never-ending note In that sweet home above. Oh 1 the deep joy of evermore. When waking first on that blest shore. M »lwt ||pt*lla»jr. Stkokg Character.—Strength of character consists of two things, power of will and power of restraint. It re quires two things therefore for its exis tence—strong feelings and strong command over them. Now it is here that we make great mistake ; we mistake strong feelings for strong character. A man that bears all before him, before whose bursts of fury make the children of the’household quake —because he has his will obeyed, and his own way in all things we call him a strong man : it is his passions, that are strong, he, mastered by them, is weak.— You must measure the strength of a man by the power of the feelings he subdues, not by the power of those which subdue him. And hence composure is very often the highest result of strength. Did we. never see a man. receive flagrant insult and only grow a little pale arid then reply quietly t That is a man spiritually strong, or did we never see a man in anguish stand as if carved out of a solid rock mas tering himself? Or one bearing a hope less daily trial remain silent and never tell the world what cankered his home peace ? That is strength. He who with strong passions remained chaste ; indigna tion in him can be proved and yet restrain himself and forgive—those are the strong men, the spiritual heroes. Ak Iron Egg. —ln’ Dresden there is an iron egg,, the history of which is some thing like this; A young prince sent his iron egg to a lady to whom he was betrothed. She re ceived it in her hand, and looked at it with disdain. In her indignation that he should send her such a gift, she cast it to the earth. When it touched the ground, a spring cunningly hid in the egg opened, and a silver yolk rolled out; she. touched a secret spring in the yolk, and a golden chicken appeared; she touched a spring in the chicken, and a ruby crown was found within; she touched a spring in the crown, and within it was a diamond marriage ring: ALTOONA, PA., TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 1863 THE SPY’S ADVENTURE. It was a calm sultry morning in the latter part of June, 1801, the period at' which our narrative opens, when a person might have been seen wending his way over a neighboring hill. He was clad in the uniform of a federal soldier. His countenance appeared careworn, and his dress betokened that he had seen hard service in the cause of his country. This person was Charles Delorme, the re nowned spy in Fremont’s army. Ever and anon he would cast quick and furtive glances to the right and left, as if there was danger near at hand. It was at this time that the vandal hordes under Price aud ! Claib Jackson, the traitor ous Governor of the State of Missouri were ravaging that State and spreading desolation and misery throughout that portion of the State which had the mis fortune to be under his control. But I am digressing. “Halt!” was the clear command that rang out upon the still air and caused our traveler to suddenly rein up his horse. “By whose authority am 1 halted ?” was the cool reply of our hero. “ By the authority of the bristling bayo nets and cannons behind me,” quoth the speaker, (who was no less a personage than a confederate lieutenant in command of the picket guard of Price's army,) at the same time advancing and drawing a revolver on our hero. The time for quick action had now ar- | rived and it was not lost sight of by our hero, who with a pretended downcast' ex-1 pression and an outward show of fear, j moved toward the Confederate officer, j who deceived the apparent submission of the spy, was completely thrown off his guard. j “ I suppose I will have to submit,” was j the response of Delorme. Thinking he had made an easy catpure ! of this renowned spy, the Lieutenant ad- j vanced carelessly to seize him. for he j knew to capture Charles Delorme alone | was a feat but which few would not envy. When about to grasp the rein of the j horse, Delorme, quick as thought, drew a I Colt’s revolver from his holster and tired, j and the unfortunate Lieutenant fell, the j bullet having pierced his heart. Then, j wheeling, and setting spurs to his noble ; animal, he darted off at a speed which | seemingly defied all to overtake him. I “To perish all enemies to his country!” j was his exclamation as he was borne | swiftly along by his steed. I '1 he crack of the pistols alarmed the guards who, hurrying forward to the spot, beheld their Lieutenant lying dead on the ground, the blood gushing from his wound. “ Some d—d Yankees’ work!” ex claimed Corporal Swiftfoot, commander of guards No. 1. “ Send intelligence to General Price immediately !” cried one. ' “There he goes! there he goes!” was the exclamation of others, as they caught a glimpse of the receding figure of Delorme. A courier was hastily sent to headquar ters and a squad of cavalry were instantly dispatched under full speed, hoping to overtake the daring adventure. The party composing this squad being familiar vyilh the surrounding country, at once struck into a by road, hoping to reach a bridge which crossed a small stream at the distance of about three miles from camp by the rout which Delorme had taken, but not much more than half that by the route they had gone. Delorme beihg totally unaware of this by-road, after he had proceeded a good distance, leisurely pursued his route, not thinking for a mo ment that they would overtake him. But what was his surprise and consternation when upon crossing the bridge, he beheld the cavalry coming down the hill which led to the bridge at full speed. “ There he is, he is ours!” exclaimed the officer m command. Delorme, although surprised was not overcome. Urging on his horse at full speed, he yet hoped to distance them. “ He is distancing us,” shouted one of the party. On they go, each party urging their horses to the utmost speed. B»t Delorme is leaving them fast, when his horse struck his foot on a root, and threw his rider headlong to the ground. Before he could recover they were upon him. They dis mounted, and while one seized him by the throat, the others pinioned him as they thought, securely, and putting him on his horse, they proceeded back to camp. De lorme, pretending to be dangerously in jured. they thought him entirely secure. Four men were appointed to take charge of him, .while the rest hurried to camp to carry the intelligence to General Price. After the main body bad gone, one of the four produced a flask of whisky which he had taken from Delorme’s person, and they proceeded to imbibe the contents rather freely, which soon had the effect of making them merry and careless. Delorme perceiving this began to examine the cords by which he was bound, and found to his joy they were loose. Exerting his utmost strength, he succeeded in wrenching one hand loose. He- dealt one a severe blow, which sent him leeling to the ground; then, quick as thought, he wheeled his [independent in everything.] i horse, and left the other three in amaze- ment at his audacity. But quickly re covering themselves, they started in pur suit. But in vain. Delorme, wheeling his horse, turned round for a moment to his pursuers, then lifted his hat aloft, he shouted: ' “ The Union forever, and death to the traitors!” and soon was lost to their sight. He regained the camp of Gen. Fremont in safety, where, he related his adventure to his wondering comrades, who, when he was through gave three times three for the gallant Charles Delorme, the daring spy of Fremont’s army— S. S- Hill. HOW I’LL JOIN CHRIST'S ASHY. My heart thrilled with joy and grati tude the other evening., as I listened to the touching narrative of a brave soldier boy,‘ by .one who had soothed his midnight restlessness by intelligent sympathy, and thus won the story of his life. “ I went from couch to couch,” said the narrator, “to find some sunk in heavy slumber, some murmuring in delirious un rest, and some wakeful with pain and anxiety. One young face attracted me; it was that of a lad only seventeen, who had lost a leg in battle, and in conse quence had suffered amputation, so peril ous in its location, that but one in seven ty-five had ever survived, and he was that one. “ I asked him if he wanted anything.” “ Oh, no,” wds the reply. “ Oh, sir,” said he, “ I have a letter from home to-day, from my mother.” “ Then I knew I could talk to him, so I drew a chair up to the bedside, and seating myself, asked, ‘ Whore does your mother live?’ ” “In Bostoii. sir.” ■ >‘Ah,” said I, “ we are friends, then; I am a Massachusetts boy myself.” “ What! arc you from'Massachusetts!” was the earnest inquiry, as a gleam of joy illuminated his pale face. “ Yes,” I said, and then told some in cidents of my young life to which he listened with the deepest attention. I gaind my object, I had won his confidence, and soon he told me the story of his life; -.;f his enlisting and going to the war; of the terrible fight, his wound, and the am putation. “ But I kept up,” he added with energy, “ and when we were all put in an ambulance, all jostled together, and hot and crowded, 1 kept the other fellows up too.” “ And how did you do it?” I inquired; “ how did you forget your great suffer ings ?” ; ■ “Oh,"sir, I thought how much more Jesus suffered for me ; and now I '"have but one leg, I cannot fight for my coun try, but Til join Jesus’ army and fight for him. 1 Enow lots of boys, and I’ll get around them, and bring them to church, and to the Sabbath School. We boys can do a great more with young fellows than grown people can do.” Oh, that the radiance of- that noble spirit might be reflected into millions of souls, and win them to enlist in Jesus' army. Children of the Sabbath School, will you stand at ease while this brave cripple is gathering souls for Christ?— How many friends and companions might you win to the blessed influences of the sanctuary! Come, labor on the Lord’s side, and your reward shall be great, for it shall be fully known and enjoyed in heaven. — S. S. Times. - Si t by the window and look over the way to your neighbor’s excellent mansion which be has recently built and paid for, and sigh out- —“ Oh? that I was a rich man !” Get angry with your neighbor and think you have not a friend in the world. Shed a tear or two, and take a walk in (he burial ground, continually saying to yourself. ‘ When shall I be buried here V Sign a note for a friend,* and never for get your kindness, and every hour of the day whisper to yourself—“ I wonder if he will ever pay that note.” Think every body means to cheat you. Closely examine every bill you take, and doubt its being genuine till you have put the owner to a great deal of trouble. Be- lieve every ninepence passed you is but a " sixpence crossed, and express your doubts Tailors Defined.—A tailor possesses about getting rid of it if you should ven- the qualities ol nine men combinded m ture to take it. one, as will be seen by the following ob- Put confidence in no body, and believe serrations; _ . every man you trade with to be a rogue. Ist. As an economist, ha cuts his coat Never accomodate if you can possibly help according to his cloth, it. Never visit the sick or afflicted, and 2d. As a gardener, he is careful ot never give a farthing to assist the poor, cabbage. . Buy as cheap as you can, screw down 3d. As a sailor, he sheers o w eneve to the lowest mill. Grind the faces and it is proper. . , , hearts of the unfortunate. 4th. As a play actor, he often ran Brood over yonr misfortunes, your lack | ishes a bare bodkin. _ ■ of talents, and believe that at no very j sth. As a lawyer, he at en many distant day you will come to want. Let 1 suits. . the workhouse be ever in your mind with • 6th. As an executioner, he provi cs all the horrors of distress and poverty- suspenders and gallows for many persons. Follow these recipes strictly, and you ' 7 th. As a cook, he is generally ur will be miserable to your hearts content— ■ nished with a warm goose. . if we may so speak—sick at heart and at 1 Bth. As a sheriffs officer, he does muc variance with all the world. Nothing j sponging. . will cheer or encourage you—nothing 9th. As a rational and spirtual divine, throw a gleam of sunshine or a ray of I his great aim is to form good habits lor warmth into your heart. the benefit of huaself. , HOW TO BE HISEEABLE. A THRILLING INCIDENT OF THE WAR- Nine,or ten years ago, a citizen of one of the towns in the eastern part of Masa chusetts was unjustly suspected of a crime which the statute cannot easily reach, but which deservedly brings him guilty of it the indignation of upright men. There were circumstances which gave color to the suspicion and the unfortuate gentle man suffered the misery of loss of friends, business and reputation. His sensitive nature could not . face these trials, and he fell into a condition of body and mind which alarmed his family. At length, having invested his ■ property where it could be easily managed by his wife, he suddenly disappeared, leaving her a com fortable home and the care of two hoys. 10 and 12 years old. The first fear that he had sought a violent death was partially dispelled by the orderly arrangement pi his affairs, and the discovery that a daguerreotype of the family groupe was missing from the parlor table. Not much effort was made to trace the fugitive.— When, afterward, facts were developed which established his innocence of the crime charged, it was found impossible to communicate with him; and as the publi cation of the story in the columns of sev eral widely circulated journals failed to recall him, he was generally supposed to be dead. At the outbreak of the present civil war his oldest son, now a young man, was induced by a friend, a Captain in a West ern regiment,-to enlist ;m his company.— He carried himself well th rough campaigns in Missouri and Tennessee, and after the capture of Fort Donelson was rewarded with a First Lieutenant’s commission.— At the battle of Murfreesboro he was wounded.in the left arm, but so slightly that he was still able to take charge of a squad of wounded prisoners. While per forming the duty he became aware that one of them, a middle-aged man, with a full heavy beared, was ; looking at him with fixed attention. The day after the fight, as the officer was pissing, the soldier gave the military salute, and said: “ A word with you, if you please, sir. You remind me of an old friend. Are you from New England?” “ I am.” “ From Massachusetts?” “Yes.” “ And your name ?” The young. Lieutenant told his name and why he came to serve in a Western regiment. “ I thought so,” said the other, and turning away he was silent. Although his curiosity was much excited by the oldier’s manner, the officer forbore to question him and withdrew. Bui in the afternoon he took occasion to renew the conversation, and expressed the interest awakened in him by the incident of the morning. “ I knew your father,” said the prisoner. “Is he wellt” “We have not seen him for years.— We think he is dead.” Then followed such an ; explanation •of the circumstances of his disapearance as the young man could give. He had never known the precise nature of the charges against his father, but was able to make it quite clear that his innocence had been established. “ I knew your mother also,” continued the soldier. “I was in love with her when she married your father.” “ I have a letter from her dated ten days ago. My brother is a nine months’ man at New Orleans.” ' After a little desultory conversation, the soldier took from under his coat a leather wallet, and disclosed a daguerreo type case. Ihe clasp was gone, and the corners were rounded by wear. “Will you oblige me,” he said, “by looking at this alone in your tent Agitated almost beyond control, theyoung officer took the case and hurried away. — He had seen the picture before I It rep resented a man and woman, sitting side by side, with a boy at the knee of each. The romantic story moved the com mander of the division to grant the youth a furlough; and both lather and son reached home last week. —Worcester Spy■ EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. HOW A MAR FEELS IR BATTLE There can be nothing more puzzling then the analysis of one’s feelings on a bat tle-field. You cannot describe them sat isfactorily to yourself or others. To mapch steadily up to the mouths of a hundred cannon, while they pour out fire and smoko and shot and shell in a storm that mows the men like grass, is horrule be yond description—appalling. It is ab surd to say that a man can do it without fear. During Hancock’s charge at Fred ericksburg, for a long distance the slope was swept by such a hurricane of death that we thought every step would be our last; and lam willing to say, for one that I was pretty badly scared. Whatever may be said about “getting used to it,” old soldiers secretly dread a battle equally with new ones. But the most difficulties to stand up under is the suspense while waiting, as we waited in Fredericksburg drawn up in line of battle on the edge of **he field, watching the columns file past us and disappear in a cloud of smoke, where horses and men and colors go down in confusion, where all sounds are lest in the screaming of shells, the cracking of musketry, the thunder of artillery, and knowing that our turn comes next, Ex pecting each moment the word 4 Forward.’ It brings a strange kind of relief when “Forward” comes. You move mechan ically with the rest. Once fairly in for it, your sensibilities are strangely blunted— you care comparatively nothing about the sights that shocked you at first—men tom to pieces by cannon shot become a matter of course. At such a time there corned a latent sustenance from within or above us, which no man anticipates who has not been in such a place before, and which most men pass through life without know ing anything about. What is it? Where does it come from? Those who say they would like to visit a battle-field seldom know what they are talking about. After darkness has put an end to the struggle a hush settles over the field —such a contrast to the roar of the fight! Never is silence more oppressive, more eloquent. You hear the cries of the wounded which are ever distinguished while the work is going on. A stray shot hurtles through the darkness over head. You hear the ambulance wheels chirr heavily along, grinding through the soil with a sullen, muffled sound, like some monster crunching the bones of his vic tims. You see the outline of* forms glid ing through the gloom, carrying on litters pale, bloody men. You stumble over — perhaps your friend —with his hair matted in blood over his white face, and his dead eyes staring blindly up to the sky. You are startled by the yell of those lilted about, after becoming cold and stiff in their blood. Follow to the hospital, and see those, whose lives clung to them on the field, dissected alive, and butchered. They writhe a few hours or days, are tumbled into a trench, their graves unknown, for gotten forever. 'J'hen talk about the hor rors of the war. —Springfield Republican. Prayer.—Prayer is essential to the ex • istence and growth of the spiritual life.— It is the breath of the new man. By this means he obtains quick reliefs from in numerable evils; and draws down from heaven blessings of the richest and sweet est kind. Possess your minds fully of the persuasion that prayer is efficious, when ottered in faith and with importunity to obtain the blessings which we need.— God has made himself known as a hearer of prayer ; yea, he has promised that we shall have, as far as may be for his glory -And our good, what ever we ask. The most important events may be brought about by prayer. One rightepus man, by fervent and effectual prayer, has been able to shut heaven and open it again.— Dr. Archibald Alexander. 0- An anecdote is related of a young preacher at a city church, who had for his text a verse from the parable of the ten virgins, and in the course of his ser mon explained: “ That in old times it was customary when the bridegroom and bride were coming, for ten virgins to go out and meet them, and escort them home —-Jive of these virgins being males, aud Jive females P' ®T An Englishman traveling in Kil kenny, came to a ford and hired a boat to take him across. The water being more agitated than agreeable to him, he asked the boatman if any person was ever lost in the passage. “Niver,” replied Pat; ’me brother was drowned here lost week, put w'e found him the next day. Why are some folks’ bibles like a church ' Because they are seldom opened except on Sundays. I like your impudence,” as a pretty girl said when ter beau kissed har. e*The child who cried for an hour— didn’t get it. «rDo one good action every day. NO. 4