Bedford inquirer. (Bedford, Pa.) 1857-1884, April 12, 1867, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    ®ht fdford gtaqnim
JI LI AN A St., opposite the Menget Mouse
TEH ns:
•2.00 a year il pml -irictly in advance*
If not imld within *ix moutti*
Tlf in| |ni<l within the rr IS.OO.
graffjssional & §tt*tww €ards
Attorsets A Counsellors at Law,
Bedford, Pa.,
Will attend promptly and faithfully to all busi
ness entrusted to their care. Special attention
given to collections and the prosecution of claims
for Back Pay, Bounty, Pensions, 4c.
ao~(lffice on Juliana street, south of the Court
House. Aprils:lyr.
Beheord, Pern'a.,
Office same as formerly occupied by lion. W. P.
Scheie two doors east of the * m
practice in the several Courts of Bedford county.
Pensions, bounties and back pay obtained and the
purchase of Real Estate attended to.
May 11, '66—l?r.
Bedford, Pejck'a.,
Offers to give satisfaction to all who may en
trust their legal business to him. Will collect
moneys on evidences of debt, and speech.y pro
cure bounties and pensions to soldiers, their wid
ows or heirs. Office two doors west of Telegraph
office. april:'6-ly.
Office with Jobs Csssxa, on Julianna street, in
the office formerly occupied by King 4 Jordan,
and recently by Filler 4 Keagy. All business
entrusted to his care will receive faithful and
prompt attention. Military Claims. Pensions, 4c.,
speedily collected.
Bedford, June 9,1865.
j* M'D. E. *• RRRR
Will practice in the Courts of Bedford and ad
joining counties. All business entrusted to their
"are will receive careful and prompt attention.
Pensions, Bounty, Back Pay, Ac., speedily col
lected from the Government.
Office on Juliana street, opposite the banking
house of Reed 4 Schell, Bedford, Pa. mar2:tf
Will promptly attend to all business entrusted to
his care.
-sg) Particular attention paid to the collection
of Military claims. Office on Julianna si., nearly
opposite the Mengel House.) junc23, '65.1y
Bebeord, Pa.,
Will attend promptly to all business intrusted to
their care. Collections made on the shortest no
They are, also, regularly licensed Claim Agents
and will give special attention to the prosecution
of claims against the Government for Pensions,
Back Pay, Bounty, Bounty Lands, 4c.
Office on Juliana street, one door South of the
' Mengel House" and nearly opposite the Inquirer
office April 28. 18:t
Will faithfully ard promptly attend to all busi
ness entrusted to bis care in Bedford nod
iug counties. Military claims, Pensions, back
pav, Bounty, Ac. speedily collected. Office with
Mann A Spang, on Juliana street 2 doors south
of the Mengel House. pU> 18M-—tf.
Respectfully tenders hi? professional services
to the public. Office with J. W. Lingenfelter,
Esq., on Juliana street, two doors South of the
"Mengle House." Pec. 9, 1864-tf.
Have formed a partnership in the practice of
ihe Law Office on Juliana Street, two doors South
of the Mengel liotue.
aprl. 1864—tf.
c. *. HICKOK *• wnmics, JR.
Office tn the Bank Building, Juliana Street.
All operations pertaining to Surgical or Me
chanical Dentistry carefully and faithfully per
formed and warranted. TERMS CASH.
Tooth Powders and Month Wash, excellent ar
tides, always on hand,
BKRST, Pa., visits Bloody Run throe days of each
month, commencing with the seeond Tuesday of
the month. Prepared to perform all Dental oper
ations with which he may be fuvored. Term*
within the rrnrh of all and etrietlg canh except by
eperial contract. Work to be sent by mail or oth
wise, must be paid for when impressions are taken.
augs, '64:tf.
Respecttully tenders his professional services
to the people of Bedford and vicinity.
eJf-Residence at Maj. Washabaugh's.
Office two doois west of Bedford Hotel, up
stairs. aul7:tf
\XTM~ W. JAMISON, M. l.,
Respectfully tenders Lis professional services to
the people of that place and vicinity. [decß:lyr
Respectfully tenders his professional ser
vices to the citirens of Bedford and vicinity.
Office and residence on Pitt Street, in the building
formerly occupied by Dr. J. H. Hofins.
April 1, 1864—tt.
. Having permanently located respectfully
tenders his pofessional services to the eitixens
of Bedford and vicinity. Office on Juliana street,
opposite the Bank, one door north of Hall A Pal
mer's office. April 1, 1504—tr.
Clocks, Watobes, Jewelry, Ac., promptly re
paired. All work entrusted to his care, warranted
to give satisfaction.
He also keeps on hand and for sale IV A TCH
3ST- Office with Dr. J. A. Mann. my-4
He keeps on hand a stock of fine Gold and Sil
ver Watches, Spectacles of Brilliant Double Refin
ed Glasses, also Scotch Pebble Glasses. Gold
Watch Chains, Breast Pins, Finger Rings, best
quality of Gold Pens. He will supply to order
any thing in his line not on hand.
apr.2B, 1865—xx.
Collection? made for the East, West, North and
r-outh, and the general business of Exchange
transacted. Notes and Accounts Collected and
Remittances prompt lymade. REAL ESTATE
bought and sold. fel>22
On Penn street a few doors west of the Court
Honse, North side, Bedford, Pa., is now prepared
to sell by wholesale all kinds of CIGARS. All
orders promptly filled. Persons desiring anything
in his line will do well to give him a call.
Bedford, Oct 20.
A3 cMori) Snqnirtr.
DtRBORROW & LUTt Editors nnd Proprietors.
When the hours of day are numbered,
And the voices of the night
Wake the better soul that Blumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;
Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful fire-light
Dance upon the parlor wall :
Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door ;
The beloved, the true hearted
Comes to visit me once more.
He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life.
They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more 1
And with them, the being beautious,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all those else that love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.
With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine—
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.
And she sits and gazes at me,
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.
Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer ;
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.
O, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside ;
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived aud died.
How much the heart may bear and yet not
break !
How much the flesh may suffer, yet not die !
I question much if any pain or ache
Of soul or body brings our end more nign :
Death chooses his own time ; till that is sworn,
All evils may be borne.
We shrink aud shudder at the surgeon's kuife, j
Bnoh an so iccomug n uui tne cruel steel. '
Whose edge seems searching for the quivering
Yet to our sense the hitter pangs reveal,
That till the trembling llesh be piece-meal
This alone can be borne.
We see a sorrow rising in our way,
And try to flee from the approaching ill;
We seek some small escape, we weep and ;
But when the blow falls, then our hearts are :
still ;
Not that the pain is of its sharpness shorn,
But th at it can be borne.
We wind our life about another life,
We hold it closer, dearer than our own ;
Anon it faints and falls in deadly strife,
Leaving us stunned, and stricken, and
alone ;
But ah ! we do not die with those we mourn;
This also can be borne.
Behold i we live through all things—famine,
Bereavement, pain ; all grief and misery,
All woe and sorrow ; life inflicts its worst
On soul and body, but we cannot die,
Though we be sick, and tired, and faint and
Lo ! all things can be botne.
One of the greatest curiosities of Western
New York—we may almost say one of the
greatest in the world—is the trout breeding
establishment of Seth Green, in Caledonia,
in Livingston county, to which we paid a
brief visit last week, llis bouse and ponds
are on the border of tbe stream called the
Caledonia Springs, which flow in a vast vol
ume of the purest water from a small hol
low in the viiliage of Caledonia, and after a
course of a mile unites in the viiliage of
Mumford with Allen's creek, one of the
tributaries of the Genesee. The country
through which it flows is thickly settled,
and one of the richest and best farming
towns in the State. The surface of the land
is anite level, with hanks but little above the
surface of tbe water. Tbe stream, some
: places, is very rapid, and in others has a
; gentle current of a mile or more per hour.
Tbe Springs, as now situated, cover about
six acres, being dammed slightly for mining
purpose. They afford about eighty barrels
of water per second, and make a creek from
three to four rods wide, and from eighteen
inches to six feet deep, according to tbe cur
rent. The bottom was covered with small
white shells and gravel. Tbe water is clear,
pu.e and perfectly transparent, so that any
object can be seen for three or four rods
very distinctly. Its temperature at the
Springs Ls forty-eight degrees the whole
year round, but down tbe creek, three-quar
ters of a mile, it rises in the hottest days in
summer to fifty eight degrees by night, but
it is down in the morning to fifty-two de
grees. In winter it settles at times to forty
tbree degrees, but generally keeps up to
forty-five or forty-six degrees The temper
ature of the water to Allen's creek is very
even the year round, but very cold in sum
mer and quite warm in the winter, never
freezing in the coldest weather.
The water through the whole length of
the creek, as we'll as every stone, stick, weed
and blade of grass, is alive and literally cov
ered with numerous insects and larvte of
flies, summer and winter, so that the trout,
however numerous they are. easily obtain
all the food they want at all times of the
year. There is but very little surface water
that makes into tbe creek Jhence tbe volume
of water is very even. The first settlers
of the country found the creek literally fill
ed with trout of great size and beauty, and
it has remained so to this day, notwithstand
ing it has been almost constantly fished,night
as well as day, from that time to this. The
largest and finest trout are taken in the eve
ning with a large artificial white or gray nail
The number of trout in this stream of n_
mile in length is computed at upwards of
300,000, the largest of which are each four
or five pounds in weight. About four thou
sand pounds of trout are taken from the
creek yearly. Mr. Ainsworth, of West
Bloom field, to whose excellent article pub
lished in the Tribune last winter we are in
debted for these statistics, says that on the
18th of December, 1865, he took with the
fly a hundred and ten fine trout in about
three hours, and on the next day took eigh
ty-five splendid fellows from one place.
These trout, he says, were as fat, active and
garney as he ever saw them in any other
stream in May or June. Seth Green, the
celebrated marksman and fly thrower of this
city, bought this Creek in 1834, for the pur
pose of growing trout artificially, as well as
naturally, on an extended scale.
He has since prepared ponds, races,hatch
houses and hatching boxes and troughs for
3,000,000 of spawn. The pond containing
the largest fish and principal spawners was
first constructed. A strong volume ol water
passes through it from the main stream, the
quantity received and discharged being so
regulated that there is no danger of over
flowing. It enters under a wheel which is
so exactly fitted to its place that not the
smallest fish can escape, and maintains a
regular motion. This pond is seventy-five
feet long, twelve feet wide and four or five
feet deep. Mr. Green's dwelling is over the
lower end of this pond, which affords shade
and a hiding place for the trout when they
choose to retire from view.
There are from eight to ten thousand fish
in this pond, and water enough for fiflv
times that number. A £reat deal of fooa
passes through to them from the stream, but
they are fed every day with beef liver chop
ped, to which they rush in the most excited
manner, leaping out of the water, and tug
ging voraciously two or three at a time at
the same piece. They are so tame that they
will take the liver from a spoon or even from
the hand, and will even bite the hand itself,
as we can testify from the sharp experience
of their teeth.
To a lover of fish no finer sight can be
presented than the sight of this pond, swar
ming with splendid trout, as plainly visable,
so clear is the water, as if they were in the
open air. It is a gigantic aquarium, which
probably has no rival in the world, and the
mere sight of which will repay the trouble
and expense of a loDg journey. But besides
this main pond Mr. Green has another close
by it fifty by thirty feet, which contains
about 20,000 two year old trout and still an
other. filled with countless multitudes of
yeamlings, and lastly, a long pond or brook,
in which are hundreds of thousands of this
year's hatching.
The hatching house is a simple, inexpen
sive structure of wood, forty by twenty feet
high. It has three screened windows, ad
mitting a soft light, and excluding the glare
nf the win. fteinir nyifivl the irawn nrut
young trout are perfectly protected from
storms or hail, which in shallow water might
in one minute destroy thousands of young
trout, or a heavy and sudden fall of rain
might wash them lrom the troughs where
they are kept for several weeks after leaving
the hatching troughs. These are three in
The water is brought from the main
stream through bored logs and received into
a tauk six feet long, two feet eight inches
wide, and a foot and a half deep, from
whence it passes through six strainers into
a trough running entirely aeroas the end of
the house, and from thence by small gates
(which are regulated at pleasure to increase
or diminish the flow of water) it passes into
the several hatching troughs, &c. These
troughs are subdivided, or rather two are
placed together, and between them are pas
sages for conveniently distributing the
spawn, inspecting the operation of feeding
and hatching the young fish. By wooden
bars the troughs are partitioned into small
By this arrangement the force of the cur
rent is checked at each bar. and the front art
prevented from huddling in a mass and be
coming suffocated. The space on one side
is a platform, having a stove and the various
conveniences for feeding, At one end
is a pond eighteen feet sqnuio, with bout
two feet depth of water. If by any means
trout escape from the troughs, they cannot
get beyond the pond, and the room is ample
for keeping millions until they are two or
three inches long. Front this pond the wa
ter passes into the main stream. The hatch
ing house and troughs, though not exten
sive, are fulfilling tne highest anticipations
of their persevering and enterprising pro
prietor. The bottom of the trough is cover
e.d with small, thin gravel, over which the
water passes by gentle flow.
Thus prepared, they are ready for the re
ception of the impregnated spawn, which
are spread evenly over the gravel by a dex
trous movement of the water, the spawn
not being touched or allowed tocoine in con
tact with anything but the water and gravel.
Impregnated spawn sink to the bottom, in
water running with considerable force, and
will remain stationary, if undisturbed, until
the young fish begin their efforts for a re
lease from confinement. In from fifteen to
twenty-six days after the spawn is deposit
ed, the young fish is discernible with the
naked eye.— Syracute Journal.
THE SI'XNV side.
We advise everybody to live on the sunny
side of their houses. The room in which the
family spends most of its time should be on
the side on which the sun can find its way
into it. Let the parlor, it it be seldom used,
be on the shady side. We observe that there
is not a cottager so ignorant that she will not
set her plants, if she has taste enough to
grow them, in the east window in the morn
ing, and at. noon carry them to a south win
dow, and in the afternoon put them in the
west window. But perhaps she is careful
to keep her children in the shade, and her
precious self, so far as possible, out of the
rays of the sun. The plants, in obedience
to natural law, are kept healthy, while the
children and mother, being kept in the
shade, suffer in consequence.
Light is beginning to be considered a great
curative agent. The chief advantage in go
ing to the country is to get into the sunshine,
and to be in the pure breezes. If we desire
merely to keep cool, we should stav in the
shady city. People talk of "hot walls" and
"burning pavements it is much hotter in
the country, for the breezes that play there
in midday only bring heated air in (roni out
doors. But in the city the breeze brings
air in from the shady side of the street, and
the lower rooms of a citv house are much
cooler in midday than the exposed houses
of the country.
Parents can do nothing better fur their pu
ny, sick boys than to put them on a farm for
two or three summers, and let the sun bathe
them the livelong day. They will, by such
a life, grow rapidly, and become tough,
brawny and broad. We have seen this tried
to the highest advantage in more than one
instance under our advice.
Many are deterred from marriage lor the
fear of the expense of supporting a family.
It is a great mistake. A single man spends
more in suppers and cigars that would sup
port a wife. Few men lay by much until
they have attained the object to lay bv for,
and thus it comes to pass that a family is
now, as anciently, the best of hostages to
fortune: and none are so much to Ire trusted
as those who have the large families. Still
as a family increases aiound a man, he is
very apt to feel as if five or six children were
a constant chain upon his efforts at accumu
lation, and that children were poverty in
sted of wealth. Bitt it is not so, at least in
every respect, or even on the largest and
broadest sort of scale.
Thus for instance, i * nation*! point cf
view, our first method of estimating the
greatness of States, is by the number and
rapid increase of its inhabitants. Every
child born in the United States makes the
nation so much the more respected abroad
and powerful at home, so much the more
wealthy and intelligent, for on the average
each citizen produces more of wealth than
he consumes, and in some department or
other adds to the accumulating stock of wis
dom and experience. Now a nation is but
a great family, so may we best test our views
of what is best for a family by what is good
for a nation.
Children are weak, and need support
when the parents are strong to support
them, inoruer that they may be strong when
parents are weak, and be able to support
them; and thus is made up that bundle of
strength which a large family ever generates.
Each wisely brought up and well educated
child is the best of all investments of a pa
rents wealth of money, of affection, ana of
effort "Happy is the man that hath his
quiver full of them. " They are "as arrows
in the hands of a mighty man."
Children keep a man young. He who
mingles only with those older than himseif
soon grows old; but he who accustoms him
self to mingle large'y and freely with those
younger than he, as suprisingly retains his
It is a remark of Balwer, a close observer
of human nature, that it is a good sign for a
young man to love the society of men who
are older than himself, and for an old man
to love the company of those younger. It
is thus that youth acquires the experience
and wisdom of age, and that age retains the
vigor, freshness and elacticity of youth.
Children have in themselves a fund of'wealth
in the overflowing affections which God has
given them, which they impart to all who
come near or have much to do with them.
If they call out the energy of a man, and
make him work hard in the hours of busi
ness, they relax and refresh him with their
warmth and geniality and absence of care in
the hours of relaxation, and of throwing it
It is a good thing for a young man to be
'V 1 T 1 " t' " " world," though his
sott bearted parents may not tu:~u am
youths, or if not all, certainly nineteen-twen
tieths of the sum total, enter life with a sur
plusage of self conceit. The sooner they
are relieved of it the better. If, in measur
ing themselves with wiser and older men
than themselves, they discover that it is un
warranted, and get rid of it gracefully, of
their own accord, well and good; if not, it is
desirable, for their* own sakcs, that it be
knocked out of them. A bov who is sent to
a large school soon finds his level. His will
may have been paramount at home, but
school boys arc democratic in their ideas,
and if arrogant, he is sure to be thrashed
into recognition of the golden rule. The
world is a great public school, and it soon
teaches a new pupil his proper place. If
he has the attributes that belong' to a leader
he will be installed in the position of a
leader; if not, whatever his own opinion of
his abilities may be, he will be compelled to
fall in with the rank and file. If not des
tined to greatness, the, next best thing to
which he can aspire is respectability; but
no man can either be truly great or truly re
spectable who is vain, pompous and over
By the time the novice has found his
legitimate social status, be the same high or
low, the probability is that the disagreeable
traits of his character will be softened down
or worn away. .Most likely the process of
abrasion will be rough, perhaps very rough,
but when it is all over, and he begins to see
himself as others see him, and not as reflec
ted in the mirror of self-conceit, he will be
thankful that he has run the gauntlet, and
ai rived, though by a rough road, at self
knowledge. I pon the whole, whatever
loving mothers may think to the contrary,
it is a good thing for youths to be knocked
about in the world; it makes men of them.
We have often heard young men remark
that four or five hours, sleep was all they
wanted, and all that the human system re
quired. The habit of going without suffi
cient sleep is injuiious. Thousands, no
doubt, permanently injur* thoir health u
that way. We live in a fast age, when every
body seems to be trying to pervert the order
of Nature. If folks will persist in turning
night into day, it is not to lie wondered at
that few last out the allotted term of life.
No matter what may be a man's occupation
—physical or mental, or like Othello's,
"gone," and living in idleness—the consti
tution cannot last, depend upon it, without
a sufficiency of regular and refreshing sleep.
John Hunter, the great surgeon, died sud
denly of spasmodic affection of the heart, a
disease greatly encouraged by the want of
sleep. In a volume just pubblised by a
medical man there is one great lesson that
hard students and literary men may learn,
and that is, that Hunter probably kiilea
himself by taking too little sleep. "Four
hours rest at night, and one after dinner,
cannot he deemed sufficient to recruit the
exhausted powers of the body and mind.''
Certainly not; and the consequence was that
Hunter died early. If men will insist on
cheating sleep, her "twin sister, death,"
will avenge the insult.
OVER W ORKKI> WOMEN.— An over work
ed woman is always a sad sight—sadder, a
great deal, than an overworked man, be
cause she is much more fertile in capacities
of suffering than a man. Bhe has so many
varieties of headache—sometimes as if Jael
were driving the nail that killed Sisera into
her temples—sometimes letting her work
with half her brain, while the other half
throbs as if it would go to pieces -some
times tightening around the brows as if her
cap band were Luke's iron crown—and then
her neuralgias, and her backaches, and her
fits of depression, in which he thinks she
is nothing, and those paroxysms which men
speak lightly of as hysterical--convulsions,
that is all, only not commonly fatal ones —so
many trials which belong to her fine and
mobile structure, that she is always entitled
to pity, when she is placed in conditions
which develop her nervous tendencies.— Dr.
0. W. Holme*.
■Many of the most brutal murders aud
greatest crimes committed in tbe city of
New York, are perpetrated by persons un
der twenty-live years of age. Thisxhowx a
very early corruption of morals, aud as au
eminent jurist once said, is easy traceable
to the habit of being from home alter dark.
Lord Shaft a bury stated that in nearly all the
cases of preat crimes which came before the
courts ot evidence showed that the moral
character became vitiated between the ages
of eight an sixteen. These terrible facts
put together should make every city parent,
especially, tremble ; and if it should lead to
the adoption of the following suggestions, it
would save many a heart from going down
in sorrow to the grave, or from embittered
old age.
Do not allow your children to form the
habit ol "going home" to spend the night
with their companions—no, not once in a
Keep them off the streets after sun-down
unless you are with them.
Do all that is possible to have a loving,
cheerful and happy fireside, as a means of
weaning them from the street. Much can
be done in this direction by providing
amusements, and having the children occu
pied in something interesting, profitable or
Keep the birthdays, let thcin be occasions
of harmless festivities ; arrange that all hol
idays, too, shall be observed appropiiately.
it the father and mother remember that
the exhibition before their children of a
loving, affectionate, and quiet deportment
towards one another in the home circle is a
powerful bond of union in a family ; the
very sight of it wakes affectionate sympa
thies in the hearts of children, and cherish
es the same delightful feelings in themselves
and soon the house becomes the home of
love and quiet delight. Within half a mile
of us there are quite a number of families
of this sort, some of them among the weal
thiest in the city, but it is singular to ob
serve that in almost every case it is in con
sequence of the mother's all pervading in
fluence—mothers who are quiet, gentle, la
dy-like, but firm in the right always. Ma
ny homes are made distasteful to children
by incessant restrictions and criticisms, by
innumerable rules and regulations. A house
hold is better regulated by an affectionate
pliancy than by an inflexible rigidity ; yield
ing in non-essentials, but firm as a rock in
all Questions of right and wrong. The night
work from eight to sixteen determine? the
life character of millions.— Hall * Journal.
tiu end W oosteii :—I herewith send
thee my pocket clock which greatly stand
eth in need of thy friendly correction ; tbe
last time he was at tby friend's school he
was no ways reformed, nor even in the least
benefitted thereby ; for I perceive by the in
dex of his mind, that he is a liar, and the
truth is not in him ; that his motions are
wavering ana irregular ; tnat nis pulse is
oomotiiuc quick, bctokeuiug not an even
; temper ;at times he waxeth sluggish, not
withstanding L frequently urge him ; when
he should be on his duty, as thou knoweth
his name denoteth, 1 find him slumbering
and sleeptDg, or as the vanity of human rea
son phraseth it, I catch him napping. Ilenee
I think he is not right, in the inward man.
Examine him therefore, and prove him, I
beseech thee, thoroughly, that thou niay'st
being well acquainted with his inward frame
and disposition, Uiaw from Pint the error of
his ways ; and show him the path wherein
he should go. It grieves me to think, and
when I ponder thereon. I am verily ot opin
ion that his body is foul, and the whole
mass is corrupted. Cleanse him. therefore,
with thy charming physic from all pollution,
that he may vibrate and circulate according
to truth. I wiil place hint a few days under
thy care, and pay for his board as thou re
quirest it. I entreat thee, friend Henry,
to demean thyself on this occasion with a
right judgment according to the gift which
is in thee, and prove thyself a workman
that need not he ashamed. And when thou
layest the correcting hand on him, let it be
without passion, lest thou drive him to de
struction. Do thou regulate his motion for
the time to come, by the motion of that
light that ruleth the day, and when thou
findest him converted from the error of his
ways, and more conformable to the above
mentioned rules, do thou send hitn home,
with just bill of charges, drawn out by the
snirit of moderation, and the root of evil
shall be 6ent unto thee.
Nest to the inordinate use of intoxicating
beverages we may probably class the haste
to become rich as a deplorable evil—the de
sire and expectation of getting something
for nothing, or for a very inadequate equiva
lent, if we may use the word in such a sense
—which lead so many of our youth to aban
don trades in order to <well the crowds of
clerks, lawyers, doctors. Ac., now and always
so largely in excess of the demand for their
services. A desire to bench is not in itself
" luu 6i t>i • not. to scruple at
the means, and to end in disgrace and ruin.
There are cases where a young man is
justifiable in getting into debt—there are
cases where a few years of a struggle with
indebtedness may do him good—but these
are "the exceptions which prove the rule"
correct that debt is incompatible with inde
pendence, and should be avoided. Borrow
ing money on interest is a curse to any young
man. eating up Ins earnings and keeping
him poor. The man who saves even a few
dollars a year, and invests it at interest,
will eventually become rich, whilst the one
who borrows to make up the deficit occa
sioned by extravagance, or venturing beyond
his means, will undoubtedly struggle all his
life to keep his head aliore water.
Avoid ' speculation, mistrust all schemes
promising enormous returns, whether lotter
ies, faro banks, or more respectable modes
of gambling, be assured that any gains that
may accrue from them are more than tost by
the taste they give for inordinate risks. It
you call to mind the lucky individuals who
have become wealthy in this way in the past
twenty years, yon will find nearly all of them
poor now—the money has gone as rapidly as
it came, and is teaching the same lesson to
i'„s present possessors. A dollar earned by
honest industry, mental or physical, is worth
more to the man who earns it than tenfold
gained by speculation, and is not near so
likely to be expended foolishly or risked
recklessly. He who can save such a dollar
will more probably accumulate wealth in life
than the one without industry who makes
more money with less work. It is deplora
ble how many of our young urimarried men
waste their earnings in folly and dissipation,
and are "to poor to get married"—or. if
they marry, have acquired such tastes and
habits as tend to render that relation any
thing but an agreeable one. There can be
no good reason for a young lady and healthy
single man, having no one dependent upon
him, not saving something every year for in
vestment, and it is to be regreftea so few do
i so.
YOII'ME 40; SO. 15
We have heard of President Finnev's
j semen from the text, "Their feet shall
slide, and how ashe preached his perora
tion. people would clutch the seats to keep
i from going over into the pit of eternal de
\ spair, while some would shriek, and others
. would cry "don't." We hr.vo heard also of
Gough's wonderful power over audiences
raising them up from their seats, affecting
them to tears, or compelling them to laugh
at his will. But we have never heard of anv
sneaker ihaking the deception so perfect or
the matter so real, as in the recitation of
the little poem, "Twenty years ago," by the
elocutionist, Prof. Griffith. The poem in
troduces two friends and schoolmates, one of
whom has been recently visiting the old
homestead, school house and play grouids
—and he gives his impressions to his friend.
" e quote a few lines:
"I've wandered to the village, Tom, I eat beneath
the tree,
Upon the school house playing ground, which
sheltered you and me ;
But none were there to greet me, Tom, and few
were left to know
Who played with us .upon the green, some twen
ty years ago.
The grass was just as grec.i, Tom, bare-footed
boys at play
Were sporting just as we did then, with spiiits
just as gay;
But master sleeps upon the hill, which, coated
o'er with snow,
Afforded us a sliding place, just twenty years
When the elecutionist reached the stanza
following, his utterance was slow and
thoughtful, as if trying to recall the name
of the old game:
"The boys were playing some old game—beneath
that same old tree,
I—do—forget—the name—just now, —you've
played the same with me
On that same spot.—"l was played with knives
by throwing—so—and—so—"
_ As the speaker made gestures and mo
tions describing the game, an old gentleman
in the back part of the house arose and said
distinctly, "Mumblety peg, sir, mumblety
peg." It was so real to the old man that
he thought he would help the speaker out
of his difficulty by suggesting the name.
Of course it brought down the house.—
Charlotte Republican,
A young medical student from Michigan,
who had been attending lectures in New
York for some time, and who considered
himself exceedingly good-looking and fas
cinating, made a deadly onslaught on the
heart and fortune of a blooming young lady
in the san?" family with him. After a long
Beige the lady surrendered. They were mtir
ried on Wednesday, in the morning. The
same afternoon the young wife sent for and
exhibited to the astonished student a "beau
tiful" little daughter aged three years and a
"Good heavens !" then you was a wid
v* r T" CAAlalinAtl tuw atuucui.
"Yes, my dear, and this is Amelia, my
youngest; to-morrow, Augustus. James and
Keuben will arrive from the country, and
then 1 shall have my children together once
The unhappy student replied not a word;
his feeling were too deep for utterance. The
"other little darlings' arrived. Keuben
was six years, James Dine, and Augustus a
saucy boy of twelve. They were delighted
to hear they had a new papa, because they
could now live at home, and have all the
playthings they wanted. The "new papa,"
as soon as he cou'.d speak, remarked that
Augustus and James did not much resemble
Reuben and Amelia.
"Well, no," said the happy mother; "my
first husband was quite a different style of
man from my second—complexion, temper
ament. the color of hair and eyes—all dif
This was too much. He had not only
married a widow, but was her third hus
band, and the astonished stepfather of four
But the fortune, thought he; that will
make amends. He spoke of her fortune.
"These are my treasures," said she, in
the Roman matron style, pointing to her
! children.
The conceit was quite out of the Michi
gander, who, finding that he had made a
complete goose of himself, retired to a farm
in his own native State, where he could
have a ehancc of making "his" boys useful,
and make them sweat for the deceit practi
ced upon him by their mother.
He is above a mean thing. He cannot
B toop to a mean fraud. He invades no se
cret in the keeping of another. He takes
selfish advantage ot no man's mistake, lie
is ashamed of muendoes. He uses no igno
ble weapons in controversy. He never stabs
in the dark. He is not one thing to a man's
face and another to his back. If by accident
he comes into possession of his neighbor's
counsels, he passes upon them instant obliv
ion. He bears sealed packages without
tampering with the wax. Papers not meant
for his eye whether they flutter in at his
window or lie open before him in unregarded
exposure, are sacred to him. He profanes
no privacy of others, however the icntry
sleeps. Bolts and bars, locks and kevs,
bonds and securities, notice to trespassers,
are not for him. He may be trusted out of
tlt&l ilav Ciiluiiect OI)V
--where. He buys no office, he sells none, in
trigues for none. He would rather fail of
his rights than win them through dishonor.
He will eat honest bread. He tramples on
no aer.-itivc feeling. He insults no man.
If he has a rebuke for another, he is straight
forward, open and manly. He cannot de
scend to scurrility. Billingsgate don't lie on
nis track. Of woman, and to her, he speaks
with decency and respect. In short, what
ever ho judges honorable he practices to
ward every man.
BE ECONOMICAL. —If the poor house has
any terrors for you never buy what you
don't need. Before you pay seventy-live
dollars for a coat, young man, fiud out wheth
er your lady would not be just as glad to
see you in one that cost half the money. If
she would not let her crack her own bazle
nuts aud huy her own clothes. When you
sec a man spending two or three dollars a
week foolishly, the chances are five to one
that he will live long enough to know how
many cents there are in a dollar, if he don't
he's pretty sure to bequeath that privilege
to his widow. When a man asks you to
buy that for which you have no use, no
matter how cheap it is, don't say yes until
you are sure that some one else wants it in
advance. -Money burns in some folks' pock
ets. and makes such a big hole that every
thing that is put in drops through past find
WairA Louisville newspaper, in noticing
the return of Humphrey Marshall to that
place, adds that "the bar of Louisville is to
oe congratulated on the aeoession to its
strength." The Chioago Time* want* to
know which bar ?
All dverti*ißor.t for I*m tba 3 month? to
cent* per lino for each insertion. PpecUl notice*
onehnlf additional. All resolutions of Associa
tion, communications of a limited or individual
intercts and notice- of marriages and deaths,ex
ceeding fire lines.. 1U et. jnjr line. All legal noti
ces of every kind, and all Orphans' Court and
othct Judicial sales, are required by law to be pub
lished in both papers. Editorial Notices 15 cents
per line. Ail Advertising due after first insertion.
A liberal discount made to yearly advertisers.
? months. A months. 1 year
One square < 4.50 $ fi.oo SIO.OO
Two squares <I,OO .o<l lfi.oo
Three squres 8.00 12.00 20.00
Cne-fourth column lt.oo 20.00 34.00
Half column 18.00 24.00 45.00
One column.., 30.00 45.00 80.00
Have you ever seen those marble statues
in some public square or garden, which art
has so finished with a perennial fountain,
that through the lips, or through the hand
the clear water Hows in a perpetual stream
on, on, on forever; and the marble stands
there—passive, cold, making no effort to ar
rest the gliding water? It'is so that time
flows tnrough the hands of men, swift, never
pausing till it ha* run itself out. and there
is the man, petrified into a marble sleep,
not feeling what it is which is passing awav
It is so, just so, that the destiny of nine
men out of ten accomplishes itself, slipping
awav from them, aimless, useless, till it is
too late. And we are asked, with ail the
solemn thoughts which crowd around an
approaching eternity, what has been our life
and what do we intend it shall b?? Yester
day, last week, last year—they are gone,
t esterday. for example, was such a day as
never was before, and never fan be again.
Out of darkness and eternity it was born,
new, fresh day; into darkness and eternity
it sank again forever. It had a voice calling
to us, ol its own. Its own work, its own
dunes, what were we doingjesterday? Id
ling, whiling away the time in idlenessand
luxurious literature—not as life's relaxation
but as life s business? thrilling our heart
with the excitement of life? continuing
now to spend the day most pleasantly?
Was that our duty? Sleep, brethren: all
that is but sleep. And now let us remem
ber this, there is a day coming when that
sleep will be rudely broken with a shock:
there is a day in our future lives when our
time will be coumcd, not by years, nor by
months, nor yet by hours, But by minutes,
the day when umnistakable symptoms shall
announce that the messengers of death have
come to us.—if if Robertson.
Many a premature death has occured in
consequence of giving up. The sick person
becomes discouraged, thinks he is going to
die, and dies. Friends think they have
done all they could, death is inevitable, and
let disease take ite course. There can be no
doubt but that in many such cases hope
still cherished, and the persevering use of
means, might have saved useful life.
So also in the struggles of active life. The
first speech of Disraeli in the House of Com
nions, was a complete failure, his speech it
Ls said being stifled in the derisive laughter
of the House. He thus closed: "I shall sit
down now, but the time will come when you
will hear me." Numbers have sunk into
insignificance under a less rebuff. Disraeli
was made of sterner stuff. Though it tock
him seven years to recover from his disas
ter, he redeemed his promise, and on becom
ing chancellor of the exchequer, "clad in
the same garments he had worn at the time
of his renowned failure, delivered to a close
ly crowded assemblage the most brilliant
and the ablest budget speech that had been
heard there since the days of William Pitt."
..Kff/W WJ" fiwil Kn Ju immAaial
till his work is done. 'Try again," is as
good for the adult as for the child. If con
vinced that our cause is wrong, the sooner
it is renounced the better. Cease to do
evil; but when contending for the right,
admit no defeat as final. c leam some
times more from a failure than a success,
and turn it to better accouut. Such should
ever be our aim. Use all honorable means,
rely on the ultimate triumph of right, per
severe in the effort to deserve success, and
failure will never be inscribed on your life
work. The irresolute and half-hearted have
no good to expect, for that would only be a
premium of imbecility.
Is there a more frequent cause of com
plaint than the changes which come over
our earthly affairs? Where is the being
who, in the course of his life, has not found
reason to reiterate the words, "Whom can
we trust?" We know not. when we give our
respect, our friendship, our confidence to a
human being that the compact may last for
an hour. _ A change of fortune, a rise in
rack, a slight fault, or even a whim, may
send our affections back into our wounded
A concurrence of circumstances which
could not have been foreseen by us is always
ready to betray our dependence on arrange
ments which we fancied had been laid in
reflection and sagacity, as we walked on in
the fond belief of having done well for our
selves. So that, though sorely needing a
safe anchorage, frail and exposed beings as
we are, we often find ourselves on shifting
sands or nearing fatal rocks.
To whom, then, shall we go, when our
own resources fail to meet our necessities,
and our friends sympathize, but are power
less to avert failure?
To whom, then, shall we go, but to him
who is touched wiih the feeling of our infir
mities, and who alone can offer a security of
refuge which meets our helplessness to "the
utmost: an unchanging ana unchangeable
friend—'"Jesus Christ, the same yesterday,
and to day and forever?" ZELL.
FROZEN KINDNESS. —The world is full of
kindness that never was spoken, and that is
much better than no kindness at all. The
fuel of the stove make the wood warm, but
there are great piles of fallen trees lying
among rocks on the top of the hill, where
nobody can get them : these do not make
anybody warm. You might freeze to death
5n T.lain sty l -V r trees, if n ot
means of getting the woou a..a making a art
with it. Just so in a family ; love is what
makes the parents and children, the broth
ers and sisters, happy ; but if they take care
never to say a word about it, if they keep it
a profound secret, as if it were a crime,
they will not be much happier than if there
was net any love among them ; the home
will seem oold even in summer, and if you
live there you will envy the dog when any
one calls him "poor fellow."
flay An exchange tolls the following char
acteristic story of the poet writer *. On a
recent occasion he was traveling with a
friend over a New Hampshire Railroad, and
during the conversation, Whit.tier's friend
who is also a member of the Society of
Friends —told the poet that he was on his
way to contract for a lot of oak timber,
which be knew would be used in building
gunboats at Portsmouth, and asked him
whether he thought it was exactly in eon
sistanoc with the peace doctrines of the
Quaker denomination. Without saying any
thing calculated to decide the question, the
twofriends arrived at their parting place,
wbenWhittier shaking his friend's hand,
said: "Mosesif theo doea furnish any ot
that oak timber thee spoke of, be sure that
it is all sound.''
MANY persons, especially ladies, are igno
rant of the proper place iu which to drive a
nail in a wall when desiring to hang a pic
ture, &c. Examine the waiusooting arouud
the Dottom of the wall, and when you find
the head of the nail that has secured it to
the wall, immediately over it, from the bot
tom upwards, will be the only place wherein
to find a firm footing for the nail.