MgCKUM & BERN. VOL. 9 THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. ;^i^ ai>ESX ii/„av»bl« in aiTante,) $1 60 All at the expiration of the time paid dor 15. - 01 JLDTIMJSISO" . • 1 iusortiSn' 2do. o do. • 25 .* 37% $ 60 Four lines or -e-« ; v , t , T 5 100 One Sijuari, (S lines) ; . i W , -2 00 Two •* ,(!;■ K- 000 250 Tlirer “ than Ibree-roontln, 25 coats Ov.r thrrr werkb a..u l< ■» per i«iU»r» for e«h initcrt.cn. 3 months. 6 months. ■ 1 year. tl 50 ■ $.3 00 $6 00 2 60 4 00. * .7 00 " " 400 10 00 500 » 00: . 12 00 Six lin*3 or It si. Oiw &qnarc Two Three Four Half a column ” 11 00 2* 00 One column V™rV‘'C''Utorfi Kcticas Administrators an l b--- - - three square** * Merchants «dwr»i«ngbj the >«",_* \o Od with liberty to change ■' V seeding 8 lines ' Professional or Business bards. nol * . 6no with paper V pr s '''\ r V V'Ti'' i chii icier or ini.vidual l ,*ff l Swm n till forbid and charged according to the abc.V' terms. for j„..j . ns ,„ rt : o n. Business notices fJ Q Un; , P flfty.t ..square Obituary notice* e.*,ceeuiog t ___, ftoiw MY BROTHERS GRAVE- > UT HEN'i’.V J. lIOWABD, "Household gifts that memory.saves,'- Cut help to count the household graves. Look! beneath yon silvered willow. Where its weeping branches wave, Ib tnv brother's lonely pillow In the enrk and dreamless grave ; There bis body peaceful slumbers. Low beneath that grassy sod, , While his spirit swells the numbers Of the chosen ’> md of God. Well, too well, do I remember, (Oh ! that memory had died), Of the morning in November, Brother last sat by my sine ; He then seemed as happy ever As \’d seen him e’er before, ■ Yet, that day, we parted, never, Xe’er to meet on earth- no more! Alone Life's path I’ve wandered, .since Death rudely spread his pyll*—- And the hours I have squandered Mav I ne’er again recall; Yet, methinks, I fain must love him, Tho' beneath Death's dauntless gloom He sleeps-—while wc, above him, Weep o'er the imperial tomb. Oh! how long upon that pillow .Will he lie in dreamless sleep, Where the silver'd bending willow Bows in silent awe to weep ? But his body peacefully slumbers,- There, beneath.that grassy sod, While his spirit swells the number Of the chosen band of God. Had I loved him not so dearly, In a world so cold as this, Then, perchance, he'd not so early Flown to Heaven’s eternal bliss! But since Dca f h has bereft us— We'll no longer mournful weep ; For a while, but short, he left us 'Neath the silent grave to sleep. Then, oh 1 rest thou, dearest brother. In the dark grave’s dauntless gloom. Or,-arise to greet thy mother, Who has triumphed u’ef the tomb ; And Til strive, when life is riven, And my sou! from elay hath iled. There, to join you both in heaven, Wien the graves return their dead. gtM ||ia«iw|. THE PHANTOM SKATEE, BT CHASLKS I). OAKBETTP Johu Phillips was, and is one of the most accomplished skaters I ever saw. Morning, noon and night, through every skating season, found Jack skimming over the glossy sur face bf the river that ran by the foot of his garden, or whirling in wond rous curves and gyrations manifold within a magic circle of a few yards in diameter^whose periphery was closed by a triple line of admiring spectators. lie seemed to live on the ice. People who wanted to be witty insinuated that ice was his meat and drink, and that he been seen making a hearty lunch off a goud-sized block of it, washed down by a draught of'the clear, cold water of which it was composed. — I have too often lunched with Jack off cold chicken and ale, however, in the noontide interval of his skating, not to know, that this was pure in vention. There were a number of cottages along the river bank on each side of the Phillips mansion, and a number of pleasant people lived in them— amiable old folks', clever lads and pretty lasses, ail of whom (saving 1 the elders, whose skating days had gone by) were more or less familiar■ with Jack’s favorite accomplish ment, and many merry skating frolics were held thereon. Perhaps the most graceful and ac-1 I complished .artiste, after Jack, was ! i a charming - young damsel of some | I seventeen summers (and winters, for ! every season must, and will count in i-therace of life).by name Fanny Ley ; ton, who lived in the cottage lowest | down the fiver, nearly half a mile below Phillip’s house. Fanny and j JaekAften ran races, and it was aj doubtful matter which was the swift- I er of the two on a straight ahead match, though Jack far surpassed her in the arabesque, if I may so call them, evolutions and figures of the art. My readers will not he sur prised to learn that Jack Phillips was desperately smitten with Miss Fan ny; but it will give them pain, I fear, to know', that she looked coldly (even iu summer) upon his passion. What j the reason was I never knew, nor j Ulj.d he, I believe. Probably it was 1 ( .simply one of those mysterious cu- I ' -es that seem incident to maiden- • oJood. At aU events it was a diet, i {and to Jack a melancholic one, i ! though he ijore up under it manful- j ly, hud, believing that a faint heart never won ■ fair lady, kept hoping and persevering in his suit with praiseworthy ardor, . i, Fanny didn’t clh?,ke Jack, mind ■von; juou the coutru'rv. she seemed fc. I of his society, for he was a genial Allow and a thorough gen tleihah ; hut: whenever he attempted to pay- -'ipthe limits of simple iVieiidsmp, and to speak of his love, she turned the subject aside with a laugh. : l- lug she did not intend to alloy, J ,jy thought of love to trouble her til she -was- tive-aud-twenry, at i 'east,' and that Jack was 100. agreea ble ay a friend and companion to 'think of chqugiug him in that char acter!; upon: widen Jack would look quit!-mopish for a moment, but’ soon (brighten up again and join in the laugh, and the conversation would continue in the bantering tone '.Miss Fanny had just adopted. phis was the state of affairs between them when the events I ami bout to rebate suddenly and es sentially modified them. Jack had been kept iu_ town all day, very much to his disgust, by some -business it was impossible to delay or neglect. The ice was iu splendid condition, and Jack had been picturing to himself the gay scene it doubtless presented while he was tied down to his desk in a musty law ofln e. And, as if to vex him "the more, there was a large space of! dirty frozen water iu tiny court on which his windows looked, and every.time he glanced up from j his papers he beheld some live or six boys, most of them with a single skate," scudding up and down this oasis with shouts of laughter and many a tumble on the opaque sur face" of the frozen puddle, which only made them the merrier. •‘'Confound the brats!'’ said Jack, i savagely, i “How the deuce can a man" thinks with'such an infernal row in his ears ! I’ve a groat mind to go and drive them oil! Y oo 0 00 o W OO 10 00 40 00 1 I'u However, ■rain a hundred yards in a moment upon the living phantom. But the other, apparently perceiving this again’, immediately increased his own pace, and. without materially widening the distance between them, sped onward with a rapidity that defied duck’s utmost efforts to surpass. In a moment the form had entered the deep shadows - beyond the bend, and duck lost sight ot it. In another moment lie again beheld it flitting across a space ot moon light. slid the same distance ahead, to beeoim,sa.gaiii iost almost instant ly in-rhe next line of darkness. In this manner, through gloom and through glitter, the chase continued i with wonderful swiftness for nearly 1 two miles, neither pursuer nor pur-1 .-ned gaining upon each other. j What the emotions of the- phan-1 tom were (for Jack had begun in- 1 voluntarily to call it thus to him self.) of course, I cannot pretend to sav : hut Jack Phillip's mind was aroused up to a pitch ot excitement | that sent the blood coursing hotly j through his veins, and caused a pro- 1 fuse perspiration to start forth upon | his bosom and brow in spite of the- : bitter cold, lie, howeveiyju’us nt-! terlv unconscious of this, ami felt j neither cold, nor heat, nor fatigue. | Hi- whole soul was -possessed witli i the one fixed resolve of overtaking j the phantom :he neither saw nor | heard anything else hut the fleeing j .form and the echoes that rolled j along the glib ice from the skate strokes '. nor did he relax his speed for aulnstant, whether in shade or in moonshine, nor give other Viced to his course than to make it as straight and swift as that of an ar row launched by a stout archer from an ashen bow I The chase had now entered on its third mile, and here the river became torturous and irregular,- a sharp curve spreading out into a ■ broad, hay-like expanse, and as sud denly closing up again into a deep, dark gorge, only to carve out its luniks"again, a few yards further on, into another brief space of clear moonlight and calm water. Whenever these open spaces oc curred, the phantom hugged the shore, which was always in partial shadow, while Jack held straight across the open’spaco, hoping there | liv to gain upon the fugitive by sub | stituting the straight line tor the ! curve. The advantage, however, had been hut slight and transient so far, and the race bade lair to carry them both to the sea, which was but j twenty miles further down, when, , as Jack Phillips entered the third i of the openings above described, he 1 beheld (for his eye was ever steadily I fixed in 'quest of "the phantom,) with | a grim delight, the. form scarcely ! two-thirds of the distance around its i nuirgin, and evidently gliding with j diminished speed. The pace had at last begun to tell upon it. Jack's heart bounded fiercely, for lie was possessed with a kind of rage against this weird skater, who | Lad thus far foiled his powers ot ! speed and endurance, and, with a ; desperate effort, lie shot, almost ; with the speed of light, straight out i across • the moonlit space, feeling ! confident that he should head the death! Help, however, was at; “Yes, with pleasure,” replied the had ! The phantom had heard the kind and obliging neighbor. 1 shriek and seen Jack disappear, aud, ; When ready to return, he found swift as a swallow's flight, it. sped to | his wagon heavily loaded; the trunk the rescue. On the very edge of j proved to he a large aud welt filled the air-hole it halted, and, rapidly ; travelling trunk, quite heavy.; andifc. tearing otf a long cashmere scarf, I was quite certain, ou the principle with which its throat and shoulders j of antecedent probabilities, that he were protected, planted its skates . would never get a cent fdr his firmly athwartwise on the ice, and trouble; so, seeing that it was safe, filing the end of the scarf, with skil- jat the hotel, he drove home. ; Ashe ful aim, right into Jack’s face, cry-|approached the roaideuce of the ing at the same time, in a clear, | Governor the latter went out and sweet voice 1 opened the gate, expecting the trunk -Hold hard, Jack, ami never fear! ■ would bo taken in and left nt the, Xow for it!” ; door. The farmer told him he was That voice gave Jack new life.— 1 A sudden glow seemed to gather i round his "heart, and to start the; warm blood afresh through all his ; stiffening frame, lie caught the! scarf iu Ids teeth, and then, grasp-1 iug it with his left baud, was ena- j hied, without great strain upon his ! rescuer’s strength, to climb upon ; the solid iee, hoarsely ejaculating, : •‘God bless you, Fanny!” and in-, staidly lost consciousness. s There was not a moment, to lose. j Assistance must he had at’ once, or Jack had only been.saved from one death to succumb to another almost as speedy. There stood a small cot tage on the shore of the stream, in habited by . a ferryman. To this cottage Fanny Leyton, brave and devoted girl, and no longer the pro voking phantom, flew rather than skated. A few heavy blows with a large stone soon awoke the inmates, ten hurried words told the tale, and in a few minutes Jack Phillips was stripped 1 , wrapped in blankets, and laid on, a mattress before a blazing tire, while Enoch, the ferryman, concocted a powerful hot gin toddy, his-panacea against all fleshy ills, for his slowly reviving guest. Fanny Leyton, having sent Enoch, by laud", to her own house with news of the affair, heroically re buckled on her skates, and started as swiftly as ever up the river to hear the tidings to Mrs. Phillips and Kate. In an hour Jack was as well as ever, apparently, and took a sec ond toddy with decided relish, and, iu less than two hours later, Mrs. Phillip/s carnage, with Kate and all sorts of remedies and clothing with in, drove up to the ferryman’s door, and carried Jack home. The next morning, however. Jack was not so well. lie had a high fever, and every limb seemed to burn and throb, as if with acute rheumatism. xVbout nine o’clock came Fanny, with anxious inquiries about his health ; and before she left Kate, with whom • she was in close confab for an hour, she wrote a few lines'with her pencil, "which she desired might be given to Jack as soon as she was gone. As my friend would never show me the note nor communicate the contents, I am unable to give them to the reader. But that they were eminently agreeable I feelconfi dent, for as soon as Jack recovered, ‘ which was in a very few days, he called at the Leyton mansion, and continued to repeat his visits daily for the next month, at the end of which period he announced to me, and to the rest of mankind who cared-to know it, that he was en gaged to Miss Fanny Leyton. They have been married more than a year, and a happier couple I never desire to see. They still go skating now'and then, both by day and by night, when there is a moon; but always together, and so they are sure never to be betrayed into dan ger by the fantastic chase of a Phan tom Skati^’' Sighting a Trunk.—Old Gover nor II has many laughable stories told of him. I remember seeing him once in a state of mind usually called wrath. The circum stances were as follows : The Governor, returning home from a tour to the 'northern part of the state, put up for the night at a hotel in the flourishing and beauti ful village of Princeton, situated on the Fox"river. The next morning, after arriving at home, he discov ered that he had left his trunk at the hotel, twenty miles away. He just then saw one of his neighbors going to Princeton, and in bis most pompous style requested him to “call, at the hotel and see if there was not a little trunk there belong ing to him.” EDITORS AIJD rBOFBSETOiHa not coming in. ‘•But,” says the Governor, “did you not get my trunk?” _ “No, you didn't ask me to get it." “Did not ? What would you call it I asked you V”*thundered the ex asperated Governor. “Why, yoit asked me to look and see if it was there. I did so, and you will find it safe there any day by just driving over to Princeton- Good day, Governor, good day.” Suffice" it to say, the Governor did not ask that neighbor to do any more errands for him. : Jg-W. 'Along with the compassion that is excited by listening to a t ale of want, there is apt to arise, at that tithe, a feeling of astonishment that ’ such a thing should be in a land like this. Perhaps, the true won der is that want is not universale— One-half of the race die before they have contributed an iota, to the world's sustenance or their own.— One-half of those who survive the period of childhood are women, who do not, as a general thing, con tribute directly to the production of wealth. Of the men, many are sick, many are old. many are lazy, many are idle, many are wasteful, and many are parasites. Those,who do work, and live to the age of three score years and ten spend one-third of their lives in bed, one twentieth at the table, ene-sixth in recreation. • Much of their time is wasted in mis takes. Much of what they succeed in producing is swept away by fire and flood. During half of, the year nature sleeps. One harvest in fiye produces a failure. Only a fraction of the earth’s surface is capable of cultivation. . A large part of the general labor is absorbed in the pro duction of luxuries, in repairing the - damages of war, in preparing for future conflicts, in the transporta tion of produce, and in journeys.— Probably not more tban one-tenth , of the whole amount of human force is expended in-earning the world’s daily bread. The standing marvel, therefore, of society is, not that any should suffer for want, but that there should be any qne who do not. A Considerate Husband. —A lady who had been travelling during the past summer, on her return home wrote to. a distant friend an account of her journey, and, among other things, of the following ad venture ; “I concluded my various exploits by suddenly visiting old iSTeptuue’s bed at the bottom of the ocean. Xot of my own free-will, however. I was forcibly thrown from the deck of a ship as we were out on a fishing excursion. As usual , my good man was after me in a twinkling, and caught me as I ap peared on the surface, arid, with prompt assistance from the boat, I was fished up again, a sorry-looking specimen of humanity, but all sound and unharmed, though a very nar row escape,” kc. And after some more matters, she added.- “I am’ going to leave room for ——— to ' speak for himself, I think he is able, as he is now fifty years old.” So the husband—“the goodman” —does speak for himself, and adds a P. S., in which, among other things, he says: “Mrs. —; ——tells me she has written to you about her being saved from being food for fishes by the subscriber. "Well, it may be so, but she had on a great lot ’of jewelry, which I thought was icorth saving, particularly as gold now is pretty high - tJgL. “Pete, bow does your father hamper his sheep to prevent them from jumping over fences ?" “Oh! that’s easy enough; he just cuts a hole through one hind leg, and sticks the other one through and then puts the fore legs through that fora pin.” ; -j ♦ i % i • * , .. ... NO. 38.