tzi wimAms sps>. t w<Tiy taiten iitW«(ciCi the Htrdvar* Ju u , uuaina th*lr rtoc*. jWttfcJtoU, Oaufcon OU,<*t«l»U>*r tbaw artielM.aUt nail »d- Idaathe fe BUSINESS. Bjapd *d BMortment frost vUeh f.nj' RESeleetißstttoe to prts^t&oMkaqj. ► SHEET IRONWARE, md WILDOW-WARE mik^owde ■Eoprooiplly \ • m And spouting sbe in tbebest rtjle. W GOODS. : igned would respectfully in prof Altoona and MtmnadUMicviiii iWrnal from the £ast, wfepMi* baa WINTER GOODS. R bitty* and price, cannot be aurpaaaed In ry. (lie atock ia much larger than ■ it ia quite air oltfbct, Id theee exciting cry buo to purchoee where Ujtey can gat tods and at the Lowest Prices, U lie can and will sell m any other house in this place. 'wlbos this stock before porch *nt he can offer inducements Which toll! .'.•JBBs Wjock consists of JSSS GOODS of every description, BOM’ yi.NTKR WEAR, - AND 1 iiISSKS’ DRESS SHOES, I AND BOYS’ BOOTS AND SHOES, HEN’S lUM HOSE S AND iMISSKS’ WOOL HOSE. ; 0 AXO UXBLKACHKP M«?WN. INCUIAJtS AHB HKATX BRIIiUNI}S. Jftewed, Heeled Bootew 3RTS, iaj low GBOCEHIES lira Sugar, Rta Ooffeee, Strop*, leaa, ,*c.‘ bat U n*o»Tlj feept in a Dry flood* ptore, .hr chwport. 3. A, BPRARICLK. .iM3. r ■ .j mp F I)YE COLORS, ited October !3th, 186& ScM*, TMtiurs, -d of Wearing Apparel. SG OF 80 PEB CES& -** cut color u manj good> aa wonld Mil dm that in®. Tarjona ahadea mhe > *uw dje. The proeeaala nude ‘ and ', a dye with perfect aaceaea. Wecttou 1 aod German. intide ofeach package, nation in Dj eleg, and gftfeiff apatnct . dace are, bart adapted to dye oaaroth- Inahle receipt*,) pnrchaae Howe hSta- Mag and Coloring. Sait hy than ou loeata. Ilanabctnred by . BOWS * STKVENB, 280 Bmudwat, Bobo.l ndMenieiienlly. QYES, SHEET-IRON WAKE. ONER JVOUJUP BE- ,Y »o- ratof JUMP*.'; «6»- • tiM on 1 Pt*J lof Bocnu, « i sf lII* ■ A large tqpply wjll aJwmj» to <-ntdir WAJIE, in. great witty. O & SPOUtING ;* room to bi* Mipoabum! ao lanrtnnloTcop* TOrtjiftnapUj «U*nO«l »>■ ■ : ' tf r yngyoiits. • rand Sheet JtotTWaw. —llfc' j4 ?S?.*‘£ k «r jn» ww> sfr*- * U - v An*. set (Er.l iT I ■ HsCBUMADERN, VOL. 9. THLB ALTOONA TRIBUNE. *, «. MeCRVM- H. C. DKRK. ,BUD**. *>!> inT»ri»*»ly in •d™no. ) ) $1 60 111 ** ***• expiration of the time paid tor fiias or A#wwuuifl 1 ioMrtiofti 2d0.; 8 do. year lineeer lew —•••■ • “ ' * *, *9 .« iIS . 1$ IT" .. m - i so a oo a so or«r three week, and lem than tb*« amntba,24 cent* mumm (Af ficb iDS^ftiOD. B* r 3 month.. 6 month.. lyear. *•» l« $ 1» .$8 00 $6OO •“ *" ... a 60 4 oo T oo One aqaare 4 00 , i « 00 10 00 „ ho s oo ia oo p*** 8 00 10 00 14 00 ... io'oo 14 oo ao oo ® llf .... 14 00 I 38 00 40 00 Out coluDD-. .. i ■< Administrator* *nd Kiecotors Notice* I 7o Merchant adrertWng by the year, three aqnarea, prof'mWnMor ßMinewCani noteiceedingittiit # CommmSttoM ” a poUtjcal late reel, will be charged »^ ln * .. Il0 «”S e wUl”t continual till forbid and charged cenU*per line for «»ery iwrtlo^ Obltnnr* notice* «xc«dlng ten l|n«*flftyc«nU * square THEBE OOM*S A TIME. There comes • time when we grow old. Ami Jike a sunset down the se», Slopes gradual and the night wind cold Comes whispering sad,and chillingly ; And locks are gra-. At Winter’s day. And eyes of saddest blue behold The leaves all dreary drift away. And lips of fadedeoral say TbefeGMMhA.li<De when we grow old. There come* a time when joyous heart* Which leaped the laughing main, And dead to all save memory, A* prisoner in his dungeon chain ; And dawn of day Hath passed away. The moon hath into darkness rolled, And by the emblems wan and gay. 1 hear a voice in whisper eay. There conies a time when we grow old. There come* a time when manhood's'prime U shrouded in the mist of yajrs. And beauty fading like a dream, Hath passed away in silent fears; And then how- dark I But oh ! the spark That kindled youth to hues of gold. Still burn* with clear and steady ray, And fond affections lingering say Tbare come* a time when we grow old. Then comess time when laughing Spring And cold in Sommer cease to be; And we put on the Autumn robe To tifad the last declivity^ But now the (dope. With rosy hope. Beyond the sunset Another dawn, with fairer light, While watchers whisper thrp’ the night, There comes a time when we grow old. TRIBUTE TO WOMAN shall woman’s worth be held disgraced, If beauty fail the lip or chedk Shall stainless merit stoop abased To those that will not sleeper seek ? £acb look of thine is worth therms Bound many royal diadems. Of simple manners, nobly sad, Lore-winning eyes for sick or poor, ifitent to succor, making glad The poor man by his cottage door, I see thee more, I see thee go, A light amid the gloom below. stltd Ipswllauj). LOVE IN A STAGE-COACH BY A BACHELOR How it poured ! Rattle, rattle, against the casement; splash, splash on the ground underneath, all night; and now, when I awoke here, it was raining away harder than ever, as if a second deluge .were ; at hand.— Confound the breakfast bell! I do wish {here was no suck thing as a breakfast on a rainy morning; for then one might lie abed all day, or until the storm cleared -off. Phil-’ osophers tell us that rain is neces sary for the economy of nature; if may be true, though .[never tabbied myself much aljout such things, but if so, men ought to be made like dormice—to sleep in unconscious ness until the rain sees fit to cease. Nature never intended us to be out in a shower, or we would have been bom with patent oil-cloth or India rubber skins. Down it poured ! What on earth was I to do ? The day I before had been die brightest one of the bright month of May ; and as jl had a pas- for walking in this country— more fool for it !. —I had ' trudged sw#y*off here, eight mjiles or more , ftmntown, toseea country wedding, the order used among aneada.’ I must say tj|iat the thing .handsomely done, and that I was much' edified.. So much so, that one of these days I shall tell how the parties deported themselves— how many new hats'there were in the wedding company, who drove the finest horses, and all other mat ters of, gossip, so interesting to young misses and old bachelors like myself. The .day passed off, .with a bright blpe sky, until towards dusk, when a thunder shower came up that lasted till bed-time ; hut 1 re tired fully resolved that the morn ing would see a clear sky over my head ; but the morning had come, and here it was, pouting down in one dark, splashy, continuous stream for all the world like an old maid s objugations when her longue gets waggin. ; Down I hurried to the breakfast table. I had just buttered my bread, and was swallowing the flr.-t mouth ful of coffee, wdieu the horn of the coach to town was heard, and look ing out of the window, I saw the vehicle, with its four smoking horses, dashing down the turnpike. It was my only chance to reach the ci: ,■ that day. I bolted my bread, gulped down the coffee till my tnroat scalded, jammed my hat on I my head, and made, a dive through J the door. ; The driver did not see j me, but cracked his whip with a ; flourish and went on. I shouted ; 1 still .the old villain did not. notice! me, but with another flourish of Ins | whip, set ' his four-in-hand on a : brisker trot, and rattled down the ; hill. I Desperate with the fear of bein'; left, I pitched after, him, seatteriug the mud amuud at every step, and shouting; at the top of my lungs; hut I might have shouted on till doomsday, had not a passenger seen me','and stopped the old sinner.— Out-of breath, wet to the skin, covered with mud from bead to foot, and not in thy best humor from the loss of my breakfast, I mounted into the coach ; but the instant 1 placed my foot inside the vehicle, all my sulkiness vanished, for one of the loveliest augels tluft ever blessed a rickety old coach, or warmed the soul of a sour, breakfastless bache lor with her presence, sat upon the back seat. Did you ever fall in love ? Of course. And the lady was the love liest of her sex ? To be sure. Then the stage-cpach beauty was twice as handsome as your sweetheart ; and if, after this, you don’t think ray fellow passenger a cherub, then I give up all hope of making you ap preciate her. Her eyes, such teeth, and then lips—egad I it almost makes me crazy to think of them.— I put myself down for the luckiest dog in the world. She was dressed in a plain straw cottage bonnet, with a green veil—“just such a cos tume,” said I, “as a real lady wears •when traveling”—and then she gave' me such a sweet,- bufhalf roguish smile, as I tumbled into the coach in the plight I have described, that I knew her at once to be a paragon in the way of education, taste, for tune, and all that ; and I resolved —what knowing one would not V— to make the agreeable oft-hand, for there is nothing like meeting an heiress in a stage-coach, where she thmks abe is unknown, and dreams that every attention paid to her springs from true love—ahem !—on your: part. I wrb in.; clover. What cared I for rain ? Splash, splash, aye! rain away there, like blazes— who cares ? One doesn’t get a tete-a-telc with a pretty girl every day of the week—so I determined to make the most of it. j*S*Lnd faith, with a few sly compliments, and my extraordinary good looks, I soon got as cozy with my unknown beauty, and she with me, as if we had been acquainted since the days of Noah. We .talked of the wed ding, for she too had been there— of toe scenery—of the rain—and ■of whatever came uppermost; and there was such :a charming frank ness in all she -said, that I really thought her the most winning little creature I had ever seen ; and I verily believe if the floor had been softer, and ! had known the accurate number of houses of which I would be tenant, in courtesy, I should have gone down' on my knees -to her at once, I hate stowing one’s learn ing.off in public, so I avoided any thing like literature, though I saw ALTOONA, PA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1864. by the intelligent eyes ofthe charmer, that she had a soul alive to, all the finer sensibilitv of nature. At length we got on-the subject of house-keeping. Row, if there is anything I hate," it is a woman that can’t keep house, and I trembled at every word, lest my charmer should confess her ignorance of these mat ters.- Shade of .Apicius 1 how my heart leaped when she told me that hardly a day passed in which she did not make bread, or pies, or sponge-cake, or some other of those slumshaws that delight the heart of man,; and in expatiating on such delicacies she rose to a pitch of elo quence that I never heard surpassed. I could not resist my feelings, hut snatched her hand to my lips ami kissed it. ‘ « Yes ! I felt that she was destined to Vie mine, for if there is anything that a wife ought to know it is this. Iconic of a race of • caterers. Mv grandfather lunched on half a dozen rabbits, and died at last of a surfeit produced by eating two roast pigs. My father can break his fast on a •brace of capons, or devour a pair of turkeys without having to pick his teeth ; and a brother of mine can tuck- in a hundred oysters and dishes of chicken-salad, which does honor to the family. M y own ex ploits in this line-my modesty for bids me to mention. No wonder 1 loved this rosy little beauty, wlio could get up Midi a dioiee fry, and bake such delicious cakes. Ah ! • wbat a life of doiuestie happiness ror-c before my vision, when I pictured myselt' returning home from court at night, to meet a beef-steak ready broiled or a bowl of the richest turtle soup served up by the fair hand of the angel at my side. 1 resolved, if there was any virtue in a’ pair of whiskers, in an eloquent tongue, or in my new blue coat, to win this >oraph of pie bilkers. There is m> [>laee like a stage coach for making love. Jt comes natural I Vmrdo it. egad, in an easy, don't care for anything style, that you can't fm’ the life of yon as sume in any other place. What be twixt sitting on the same seat to talk more conveniently, and putting your arm around her waist to keep her from Jolting,off. yon soon get to be woiiderfnl cozy, and ten to one, if yon don't eateb yourself squeezing her hand, or varying tije entertain ment in some other way. before yon are aware of it. Fyr-my part, as I hare said, I was ready to surrender at discretion, and I already fancied myself lightening the dear creature beside me of the troublesome duty ofi collecting the rents of her various fine houses. It was charmjng to think of the pro gress I had made in her affections. What a delicately rosy cheek it was that!just then slily, kissed—she blushing the deeper at my warmth. And then her saucy, pouting lips : and then her figure, Just file size for a Ilian who hated your thin weasel shaped young misses as he "hated epidemics. Ah, what a wife she would make ! How I thanked my stars that I had hitherto set my face like a flint against every tempta tion to marry—for now my firmness was rewarded by this beauty and heiress dropping into my mouth.— And then I preached to myself a mental ■ homily on the short-sight edness of man, as I ventured to steal another kiss from the conscious and blushing little angel at my side. I was about to pop the question itself; when the coach stopped, and .the driver descended and opened the door. My charmer rose. *1 was taken all aback. ‘T)o you get out here said lin surprise. - -‘Yes I” said she, “1 see Mr Pow ell is waiting for me." “Mr. Powell,” said I, for that was the name of a friend of mine, who lived up this very lane, not half a mile from the turnpike ; “do you then live with him '! Perhaps you’re a relative ‘r Strange I muttered to myself, “I never heard him speak of this charming creature.” Before I could answer, Powell approached, and while he halted me, my fellow passenger sprang to the ground as if by magic, and the next minute was in iny friend’s vehicle. ‘‘For heaven’s sake,” said I, halt' mad that the hearty grip ot Powell {independent in evebytiung.] prevented me from hastening to his ward’s '.assistance, “who, is that angel ? Is she a relative, a ward, or what ? I'm dying for love of her I Powell burst into a laugh, and laughed on till tears came in his eyes. Confound the fellow, what did he mean '{ I began to look angrv. “Come, my dear boy,” said he, “don’t get into a passion, but con sider how odd it is that you, of all men, should fall iu love with my cook.” I never make acquaintance in a stage-coach now. until 1 have ex changed cards. Gathering and Keeping Apples. - —ln order to secure .soundness and preservation, it is indispensably ne cessary that the fruit should be gath ered by baud For winter fruit the gathering is delayed as long as pos sible, avoiding severe frosts, and the most successful practice with our extensive orehardists is to place the good fruit directly, in a careful manner, in new, tight Hour barrels, as soon as gathered from the tree.— These barrels should be geutlv sha ken while tilling, and the head close ly pressed in ; they are then placed in a cool, shady exposure under a shed open to the air, or on the north side of a building, protected by a covering ot boards over the top, where they remain for a fortnight, or until the cold becomes too severe, when they are carefully transfered to a cool, dry cellar, in which air ean he admitted occasionally in brisk weather.- A eellarfor this purpose, should lie dug in dry gravell y or sand v soil, with, it possible a slope to the north, or. at tiny rate, with opening on the north side lor the admission of air very rarely in weather not exces sively cold. Here the barrels should by .placed oh tiers on their sides, am! .the cellar should he, kept as dark as possible, in such a cellar, one of the largest apple-growers in Duchess county is able to keep the Greening apple, which, in the fruit room, usually decays in January until the lirst of April, in the fresh est and finest condition. Some per sons place a layer of clean rye straw between every layer of apples, when paekiug’them in barrels.— iJoicnl/u/. ego Augustus Preston,, engineer of a freight train o.n the Galena branch of the Northwestern Kailroad, noblv saved a child’s lile at the risk of his own. The train which Mr. Preston was driving"had just passed Belvi dere when he observed an infant close to the track, creeping in the grass towards it. He immediately reversed the engine, whistled “down brakes,” running along the engine, jumped oft’, rushed up to the infant, then on the track but a few feet from the fast approaching train, and snatched it from certain death. The mother of the child had waited breathlessly the peril of her babe, unable to help’it. On seeing it res cued, her feelings overcame her, and she fainted at the feet of the noble rescuer of her offspring. General Sherman is descri bed by a chaplain- as -> a man who has a gaunt look about him—as if he got hungry when a boy and never got over it. A nervous man, never quiet, pulling his whiskers, or but toning his coat, or twisting a string", or rubbing a linger—-never quiet, but with a kind of look in his face that reminds one of a panther, if he gets angry, fiery, keen, powerful— and,a genius.” K3U A country girl coming in from the field was. told by her cousin that she looked as fresh as a daisy kissed with dew. “Well, it wasn’t any fellow of that name.— Bill .lones kissed me, and confound his pictures, I told him that every body would find it out.” The sun is best at it’s rising and setting. So man’s native dis position is the most clearly perceived when they are children and when they comb to die. Weep not for me, my hus band deaf, I am not dead but sloep eth here; The time will come when you must die, Therefore prepare to follow I.” A Noble Action.—A few davs NOBLE LETTER PROM QEN’L SHERMAN The following letter, dated Head quarters Military Division of the Mississippi, in the Field, Atlanta, Ga., Sept, 12, was written by Gen. Sherman in reply to a letter from the Mayor and City Council of At lanta: Gentlemen: I have yotif letter of the 11th in the nature of a petition to revoke my orders ; removing all the inhabitants from Atlanta. I have read it carefully,* and give full l credit to your statements of the dis tress that will be occasioned by it, and yet shall not revoke my order —simply because my orders are not designed to meet the humanities of the case, but to prepare for the fu ture struggles in which millions, yes, hundreds of millions of good people outside of Atlanta have a deep inter est. We must have peace, not only at Atlanta, but in all America. To secure this we must stop the war that now desolates our once happy and favored country. To. stop war we must defeat *the rebel armies that are arraypd against the law's ami Constitution w'hich all must re spect and obey. To defeat these armies we must prepare the Way to reach them in their recesses provi ded with the arms. and instruments which cuahle us to accomplish our purpose. Now, I know the vindictive, na ture of our enemy, and that we may have many years of military opera tions from this quarter, and there fore deem it wise and prudent to prepare in time. The use of Atlanta for warlike purposes is inconsistent with its character as a home for families. There will be no inaiiu laetures, aimmgjje or* agriculture here for the maintenance or families, and sooner or later want will coin pel the inhabitants to go. Why not go now, when all the arrangements are completed for Abe transfer, ■ in stead of waiting till the .plunging shot of contending armies will renew tin - seems of'the past months Of course I do not apprehend any such thing at this moment, hut.do you suppose this-army will be here till the war is over ? I cannot discuss tbits subject with you fairly, because I cannot import to you what I propose to do, but I assert my mil itary plans make it necessary for the inhabitants to go away, and I can only renew my otter of services to make their exodus as easy and com fortable as possible. You cannot qualify war in harsher‘terms than I wilh , . War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it; and those who brought war on our country deserve all the curses and maledictions a people can pour out. I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make more sacrifices to. day than any of you to secure peace. But you cannot fiave peace and a division of our country. If the Unk ted States submits to a division now, it will not stop, hut will go on till we reap the fate of Mexico, which is eternal war. The United States does and must assert its authority whenever it has power; if it relaxes one bit to pressure it is gone, and I know that such is not the national feeling. This feeling assumes vari ous shapes, but always back to that Union. Once admit the Union, once more acknowledge the author ity of the National Government, and instead l of deyotiiig your houses and streets and’roads to the dread uses of war, I, and this army, be come at once your protectors and supporters, shielding you from dan ger, let it come from what quarter it may. I know thtat a few indivk duals cannot resist a torrent of error and passion such as has swept the South into rebellion: but you can point out-so that we may know those who desire a government and those who insist on war and its desolation. You might as well appeal against, the thunder-storm as against these terrible hardships of war. They are inevitable, and the only way the people of Atlanta can hope once more to live in peace quiet at home is to stop this war, which can alone be done by admitting that it began in error and is perpetuated in pride. W,e don’t want your ne groes or your houses or your land, or anything vou have; but we do want and will have a just obedience EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. to, the of the United States. That/we will have, and if it involve the destruction of tout improve .menta We cannot help it. You have heretofore read public senti ment in your newspapers, that live by falsehood and excitement, and the quicker you look for truth in other quarters the better for you. - I repeat, then, that, by the origi nal compact of Government, the United States had certain rights in Georgia which have never been relinquished, and never will be; that the South began the war by seizing forts, arsenals, mints, cus tom houses, &c., long before' Mr. Lincoln was installed, and before the South had one Jot or tittle of provocation. I, myself, have seen in Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi, hundreds and thous ands of women and children fleeing from your armies and desperadoes, hungry, and with bleeding feet In Memphis, Vicksburg, and Missis sippi, we fed, thousands upon thous ands of the families, of rebel sol vliers left on our hands and whom we could not see starve. Now, that war comes home to you, you feel very different—you deprecate its horrors, but did not feel them when you sent car loads of soldiers and ammunition, and moulded shells and shot, into Kentucky and Teu nesee, and desolated the homes of hundreds and thousands of good people who only asked to live in peace at their old homes, and under the government of their inheritance. Hut these comparisons are idle. I want peace, and believe it can only be reached through Unipn and war, and I will ever conduct war with a view to perfect an early success. But my dear sirs, when that peace does come, you may call on me for anything. Then will I share'with you the last cracker, and watch with you to shield your homes and families against danger from every quarter. Now you must go and take with you the old and feeble, feed, and nurse them, and build for them in more quiet places prop er habitations to shield them against the weather, until the mad passions of men cool down, and allow theUn iou and peace once more to settle on your old homes at Atlanta. Yours, in haste, W. T, Sherman, Major Gen. “Bridget,” said a lady to her servant, Bridget Conly, “who was that man you were talking with so long at the gate last night ?” “Sure no one but me eldest brother, ma’am” Bridget, with a flushed cheek. “Your brother! I didn’t know you had a brother.— What is his name?” “Barney Oc toolan, ma’am.” “Indeed! how comes it that his name is not the same as yours ?” “Troth, ma’am, he has f been married once.” We have lately seen it com puted that if the women would cut their dresses to escape the ground one inch, instead of trailing two inches, as is now the fashion, a saving of $1,000,000 would be annu ally effected. “I shall be,” and “I might have been!”—The former is the music of youth, sweet as the sounds of silver bells; the latter, the paint of age,'the dirge of hope, the in scription for a tomb. Enjoyment soon worries both itself and us; effort never. That man is happy who devotes him naff to the cultivation of an island, to the discovery of one that is lost, ojr the extent of the oceam A physician has discovered that night-mare, in nine cases out of ten, is produced by owing a bill for a newspaper, and that the best core is to pay up. Dead Men Tell no Tales.—Doc tor . Bolus, who wap a yery angry when any joke was passed oh his profession, once said: I defy any person whom I ever to ac cuse me of ignorancp orneglect." “That you may do safely, Doctor.” replied a wag, “dead men JgHi ho tales!" .• tar. Why should tbe.ii§hest apple on a tree be a gOod «j*l Because it’s ♦ - NO. 28. 7 . l '\ :
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