iht §titoti ft? PUBLISHED KVKKY FRIDAY MORNING KT I. R. lURBORROU AMI JOiiN LITZ, ox Jt 1,1 ANA BU, opposite the Meagel House BEDFORD, PENN'A TERMS: • LOO a year it paid strictly in advance, j IT not pniti within sis mouths H2.3U. If not |M>if tbe Mengle House." Dee. 9, ISM-tf. KIMMELL AND LINGENFELTER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BEDFORD, FA. liave formed apaitncrship in the practice of the Law Office on Juliana Street, two doors South •f the Mengel House. aprL 1864—tf. _ iii:\Tivrs. 1 \ENTLSTKY. 17 I. N. BOWSER, Resided? DESTIST, W OUD BRRKV, Fa., visits Bloody Run three days of each mouth, commencing with the second Tuesday ol the month. Prepared to pcuorm all Dental oper : us with which he way e tavored. Ttrme Kith in the reach of i ll aud strictly cash except by iptcial contract. Woik to be sent by mail ct oth -,vt . nin-i lie paid .'or w' en impressions are taken. augs, *64: if. PHYSICIAIIi I VK. S. G. STATLER, r.ear Schellsburg, and I 7 Dr. J. J- CLARKE, formerly of Cumberland ounty. having associated themselves in the prac tice of Medicine, respectfully offer their profes rial services to the citiaens of Schellsburg and ti< mity. Dr. Clarke's office and residence same as formerly occupied by J. White, Esq., dec d. S. G. STATLER, >cbe!lsburg, Aprill2:ly. J. J. CLARKE.- ll'M. \V. JAMISON, M. D., BLOODY Brs, PA., ! eetfully tenders his professional services to •:.e people of that place and vicinity. [decSrlyr OK B. F. HARRY, Respectfully .enders his professional ser vices to the citizens of Bedford and vicinity. Office and residence on Pitt Street, in the building ferine: iv occupied by Dr. J. H. Hofius. April I,lS64—tf. I L. MARBOURG, M. D-, J . Having permanently located respectfully tenders his pofessiocal services to the citizen* of Bedford an 1 vicinity. Office on Juliana stroet. opposite the Bank, one door north of Hall A Pal mer's office, April 1, 1864—tf. JEWELER, Ac. 4 BSALOM GARLICK. A CLOCK AND WAT' H-MAKER, BLOODY Rvj, PA. Clocks, Watches, Jewelry, .to., promptly re paired. All work entrusted to his care, warranted to give satisfaction. He also keeps on hand and for sale WATCH ES, CLOCKS, and JEWELL Y. car Office with Dr. J. A. Mann. tay4 DANIEL BORDER. PITT STREET, TWO DOORS WEST or TBE BED FORD HOTEL, BEBFORD, PA. WATCHMAKER AND DEALER IN JEWEL RY. SPECTACLES, AC. He keep, n hand a stock of fine Gold and Sil ■ r V atches, Spectacles of Brilliant Double Refin ed Gla.-ses, also Scotch Pebble Glasses. Gold Watch Chains, Breast Pins. Finger Rings, best quality of Gold Pens. He will supply to order tny thing in his line net on hand. apr.2B, 1365—if. OUPP A SHANNON. BANKERS, I K BEDFORD, FA. BANK OF DISCOUNT AND DEPOSIT. Collections made for the East, West. North and - >uth, and tbe general business of Exchange tran acted. Notes and Accounts Collected and Rein ittances promptly wade. REAL ESTATE oghf and sold. feh22 'j 1 Ho MAS M IRWIN E, MANUFACTURER OF CABINET WARE, &C., BEDFORD, PA. Jhe undersigned having ptm-basad the Shop T Ac., o: the late Win. Stahl, dee'd. i.- now I repared to do all kinds of CABINET WORK a good style and at the shortest notice, at the OLD STAND in West I';ttstreet. Having a HEARSE, he is also prepared furnish COFFINS and ATTEND FUNERALS. THOMAS MERWINE. March 15: 3m. DW. CROUSE WHOLESALE TOBACCONIST, On Pinn street a few doors west of the Court House. North side, Bedford, Pe., is now prepared to ell by wholesale all kinds of CIGARS. All orders pr mptly filled. Persons desiring anything in his line will do well to give him a cell. BsiXvrd, Get 39. '64., BI'KBOKROW A LITI Editors and Proprietors. PEEPING THROUGH THE BLINDS. In place of books, or work or play. Some ladies spend tbe livelong day In scanning every passer-by, And many a wonder they descry. They find among the motley crowd That some are gay. and some are proud : That some are obort and souse are tall— They get their information all, By peeping through the blinds. You walk the streets—a common pace — You catch the outline of a face ; The face seems strange, again you look— Dear Sire, she knows yon lib a book ; She knows the color of your hair, The very style of clothes you wear ; ; She knows your business. I'll be bound, And all your friends the country round, By peeping through the blinds. She knows the Smiths across the way, Aud what they dine on every day ; And thinks that their Matilda Jane Is growing very proud and vain. She knows the Browns at Number four, Just opposite her very door ; Folks quite as poor as they can be. For dfm't they sit and sew, while she Is peeping through the blands. Dear ladies, if you don't succeed In gaining knowledge that you need, Then at the window take your seat, Aud gaze into the busy street : Full soon you'll read your neighbors well, And can their tastes and habits tell; And knew their habits to a T, Much better than your own you see. By peeping through the blinds. THE RIVER SHORE. Walking by the quiet river Where the slow tide seaward goes. All the cares of life fall from us. AH our troubles find repose. Nought forgetting, nought regretting, Lovely ghosts from days no more Glide with white feet o'er the river. Smiling toward the silent shore. So we pray in His good pleasure When this world we've safely trod. May we walk beside the river Flowing from the throne of God. All forgiving, all beloving. Not one lost we loved before, Looking towards the hiila of heaven Calmly from the eternal shore. BEAUTY. The loveliest eye is that of faith. Which upward looks to Goo : The neatest foot is that which has The path of virtue trod. The sweetest lips are those that ne'er A word of guile have spoken. The richest voice is that of prayer, One ne'er a vow has broken. The prettiest hair is that which Time, Has silvered o'er with gray, Or covers o'er an honest bead — It's beauties ne'er decay. The fairest hand is one that oft In deeds of kindness given : The purest heart is one that Christ Has satisfied for Heaven. DluwUuntouf. NEWSPAPERS I.N THE PULPIT. Each of the clergy preaches two sermons j a week, while the newspaper press preaches i one million eight hundred thousand in the saute time. Ministers deliver each one hun dred and two discourses a year, while the press gives, by their sheets in circulation, sixty-seven millions five hundred and forty two thousmd. I find no difficulty in ac counting for the world's advance. Four cen turies ago, in Germany, in the courts of jus tice. men fought with their fists to see who should have the decision of the court, and if thejndge's decision was unsatisfactory, then he fought with the counsel. Manv of the lords could not read the deeds of their own estates. What has made the change? Books, you aay. No, sir ! The vast ma jority of citizens do not read books. Take this audience, or any other promiscuous as semblage, and how manv histories have thev read? How many treaties on constitutional law or political economy, or works of sci ence ? How many elaborate poems or books !of travel? How much of Boyle, De Toc uueville. Xenophon. Herodotus or Percival? I answer, not many. In the United States the people would not average one book a year for each individual. Whence, then, this intelligence, this capacity to talk about all themes, secular and religious, this ac quaintance with science and art, this power to appreciate the beautiful and grand ? Why, next to the Bible, the newspaper— swift-winged and everywhere pre.-cut, flyiog over the fence, shoved under the door, toss ed into the counting-house, laid on the work bench, and hawked through the cars. All read it—white and black—German, Irish, Swiss. Spaniard. French and American—old and young, good and bad, sick and well— before breakfast and tea, Monday morning and Saturday night, and Sunday and week i day. 1 now declare that I consider the newspa per to be a grand agency by which the Gos pel is to be preached, ignorance cast oat, oppression dethroned, enme extirpated, the woiid raised, Heaven rrjo'ced. and God glo rified. In the clanking of the printing press a-the sheet-fly out I hear the voice of the Lord Almighty proclaiming to all the ; dead nations of the earth, "iazarus, come forth," and to the retreating surgesofdark ness "Jyt there be light." In many of our city newspapers professing no tnore than secular information, there have appeared during the past five years some of the grand est appeals in behalf ot religious lioerty and some of the most effective interpreta tions of God's government among the na tions. That man has a shriveled heart who ' grudges the five pennies that he pays to the newsboy who briDgs the world to his i feet. The immoral newspaper stops not at the unclean advertisements. It is so much for i so many words, and in such a sheet it will (cost no more to advertise the most impure book than the new edition of Fiigrim'iPr> A LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWSPAPER, DEVOTED TO POLITICS, EDUCATION, LITERATURE AND MOIULs" grass. A book such AS DO decent man would touch with the tip of his eane was a few months ago advertised in a New York pa per, and the getter-up of the book, passing down one of our streets the other aay, ac knowledged to one of my friends that he | had made SIB,OOO out of the enterprise. I More money than John Bunyao ever saw or j dreamed of! There are papers professing j to be religious that have not scrupled to take j immoral advertisements. In one column of ! a paper we sometimes see a grand ethical ' discussion, and in another the droppings of 1 most accursed Hastiness. Oh! you eannot by all your religion in one column atone for your at urination in another. lam rejoiced that some of oar papers have addressed those who have proposed to compensate them for such use of their columns, in the words of Peter to Simon Magus : "Your | money perish with you." I arraign the | newspapers that give their culumns to eor | rupt advertising for the nefarious work they are doing. The most polluted plays that ever oozed from the poisonous pen of lep rous dramatics have won their deathful pow er through the medium of newspapers. The evil is stupendous. Oh! ye managers of theatres! and ye proprietors of iniqui tous shows! I charge you get money. Though morality dies, society is destroyed, j and (rod defied, and the doom of the de stroyed opens before you, GET MONEY ! Though melted, the gold be found upon thy naked, blistered, aud consuming soul. GET MONEY ! GET MONEY ! ! It will do J'OU good when it begins to eat like a canker! It will solace the pillow of the dying and soothe the pangs of an agonized eternity ! Though in the game thou dost stake tire soul and lose it forever, GET MONEY ! Fill all the newspapers that you can, and cover all the board fences in the country with your nefa rious advertisements —GET MONEY ! GET MONEY. The bad newspaper hesitates not to assault Christianity and its disciples. With what exhilaration it puts in capitalists that fill one-fourth of a column the defalcation of some agent of a benevolent society! There is enough meat in such a carcass of reputa tion to gorge all the carrion-crows of an ini quitous printing preset It puts upon the back of the Church ail the inconsistencies of hypocrites, as though a banker were res ponsible for all the counterfeits upon his in stitution. It jeers at religion, and lifts up its voice uutil all the caverns of the lost re sound with the howl of its derision. It for gets that Christianity is the only hope for the world, and that but for itsenligbtenment it would now be like the Hottentot, living in mud-hovels, or like the Chinese, eating rats. What would you think of a wretch who, during a great storm, while the ships were being tossed to and fro on the angry waves, should climb up into the light-house and blow out the light! What do you think of those men who, while all the Christian and glorious institutions of the world are being tossed and driven hither and thither, are trying to climb up and put out the only light of a lost world. There are to-day connected with the edi torial and reoortoriai corps of newsoaper es taDHMimonts men of it tu ami most unimpeachable morality, who are liv ing on the most stinted stipends—martyrs to the work to which they feel themselves called. While you sleep in the_ midnight hours their pens fly and their brains ache in ! preparing the morning intelligence. Many 1 of them go and unappreciated, I their checks blanched aud their eyes half j quenched with midnight work, toward pre mature graves, to have the "proof-sheet" of their life corrected by Divine Mercy, glad at last to escape the perpetual annoyance and fault-findings of a fickle public and the restless and impatient cry of "more copy." —T. De Witt Talmage. WHAT DO WE WORK FOR T The question we desire briefly to discuss is not "t chy do we work ?"but "what do we work for f ' Some may an-wr-r at once : "For money, wages or salaries. W< do not think this is a correct and full reply to j the question Labor may be the Adamite curse, but if so, the innate desires of man and his restlessness and ambition for im provement have changed the curse to a pos itive blessing and made the earth —thorn and thistle cursed —to bloom and blossom like the rose. We work partly because we | need it. We need it for health of mind as j well as of body. Idleness leads to decay ! and decay to death. He who through years ! of active exertion leaves his employment ! and "retiresfrom business," usually sigus ! his death warrant. He vegetates for awhile in idleness and dies, uuless he has sense enough to discover Lis mistake in time, and return to the paths of active usefulness. There are few more pitiable objects than the man who after many years active service in business is deluded into a belief that happi ness and a re ward for his labors are to be found in witudrawing from all participation in the work of life. Old age is an excuse for idleness, but the possession of mcney is not. We do not work for money alone. The mechanic who would be content to do the work of an apprentice, merely because he could earn more wages, would be hardly worthy the name of mechanic. The amount of wages or salary is a recognition of ability and a standard of value for services perform ed, but not the only incentive to exertion. A workman feels a pride in his work —in the results of his skill—entirely unconnected with the amount of money received for it. If he did not, one very strong motive for improvement would be lacking. Almost every mechanic will agree with us that he j has done jobs which afforded him more grat- j ifieation in their success, than he derived from the possession of the pecuniary com j pen-ation therefor. How often a man will undertake a job which he knows beforehand will not "pay" in cash what it costs, but mainly for the pride of performing success fully. It is true that "the laborer is wor thy of his hire," but to agree that the hire is the only, or even the principal incentive is unreasonable, not sustained by facts, and derogatory to the "dignity of labor,' a phrase often misused, but a perfectly cor rect one. To be sure, if the efforts of the workman—and by this term wc mean all who do —-are not appreciated by adequate compensation,he socks other employers who have a proper appreciation of his value. Wc work for progress ; for progress indi ridividually and for the nrogress of the race. One means to that progress is the pay ment for services rendered, as it will en able the skillful workman and the inventive mechanic to carry forwaid their plans of improvement in manual labor or in labor saving machines. We work for the godlike pride of creation. The machine which js an offspring of" the brain of the mechanic is as much, and more, his than that of his loins. If he is illy paid for his labor, men tal or physical, he has the compensation of a satisfaction in his success which cannot be as-ured by monej only, but which must be felt in the knowledge that be has succeeded where others failed, and has secured an im pregnable position as one of the pioneers in thegrandmarch of improvement. Inore are few pursuila whivh demand BEDFORD. Pa- FRIDAY. APRIL 3G. 1867. more hard work—work of the brain—than j that of the mechanic. In no sense can he f be considered an exemplar of Bunyau's ! "Muckrake." He must live in order to i work, but he does not work merely that he may live. He is always driving to mount the next step on the ladder, and never does he mount but that he earnes with him the living, moving world. It is his pride to ejreet; never satisfied with mediocrity, but always striving for superioritv. From the workman to the inventor is but a step—a long step it may be—yet not beyond his pow ers, if be employs them properly ; and the inventor, not a mechanic, is often depend ent on the mechanic for the success of his improvement. Now, as individual cxeeileuoe depends largely on individual exertion, although aid ed somewhat by the recorded efforts and failures of others, it is obvious that associa tions which "razee" or bring down each in dividual to a common level as to compensa tion, must retard the improvement n me chanical science and practice so imperative ly demanded by the increasing wants of the age. The associations whether under the name nf "trades unions" or "labor associa tions, '' have operated to bring the skillful workmen down to the level of the 'botch," aDd to elevate the half informed Mechanic to their level. The incentive of monev— wages received—hits been the mesas used to give these associations power ; and as the inferior workmen in all branches of indus trial business greatly outnumber the finish ed mechanics, they, the inferio" cla*s, rule these societies. The effect is really a lower ing of the status of the mechanic. One may do more and better wck —more in quantitv and better in quality—than apoth er, but because the inferior wcrkmau is on an equality as to standing in the society or union, either the superior workman must submit to be undervalued, tc his pecuniary loss and to his injury by depriving him of the laudable ambition of rece.ving a recog nition of his superiority ; or the employer is compelled to pay lor inferior work the same amount for which superior work could be obtained. In either case it is unjust; in one case to the conscientious and careful work man and in the other to the employer. The basis of these unions is wrong. They make tbe amount of wages, not the skill of the workmen, the basis of their demands. The amount of wages paid is not really the criterion of excellence, and under these union rules can never be wade so ; while if individuals were contracted with, the indi vidual skil would become, as it should, the basis of compensation, and the pecuniary return lbr services rendered would incite to superior excellence and tend to the general advancement of the world.— Scientific Amer ican. THE CREEDS OF THE WICKEP. Wicked men sometimes try to persuade themselves that there is no God. Tbe Bi ble imputes such a thought only to a fool. ' The fool hath said in his heart there is no God." He says this, in his hoxrt, not in his head, for reason teaches hits different ly. :wct 11 j u,-Denotes ■u,ccr io tu ac cordance with thcii wishes, rather than the truth, wheu the truth is distasteful. The guilty wish that there were no God, for thev are self-condemned, aud so they are ready to believe a monstrous lie. It is sin that makes men atheists. Sometimes when the wicked cannot make themselves believe that there is no God, they try to persuade themselves that there is no hell. I once met with a young man of fine appearance, good cdaeation and gentle manly behavior, whom I found upon ac quaintance to be a professional gambler, and a person of licentious and dissolute habits. Afterwards, in talking with him, I found that one of the fundamental articles of his creed was this : there is no hell. He wished there were no hell, for he knew that if there was a hell, he could not escape it. The ohristianis not troubled, except for oth ers who are unpreparec to die, when he reads in the Scriptures tf the place of woe. It is sin also that makes men infidels. God says to the wicked, "Be sure your sin will find you out." Yes the sinner will hare his wages. Tb ■ wages of sin is i death and perdition the fire that is not quenched, and the worm hat never dies, will find the sinner out.— Sunday School Timet. A SHARP CLERK.— In IS£>. M. Labou cherc. then a clerk in the banking house of Hope A Co., Amsterdam was sent by his patrons to Mr. Baring, the London banker, to negotiate a loan. He displayed in the affair so much ability as to entirely win the esteem and confidence of the great English financier. "Faith," said Labouchere one day to Baring, "your daughter is a charm ing creature; 1 wish I could persuade you to give me her hand." "Young man, you are joking ; for seriously, you must allow tha: Miss Baring could never become the wife of a simple clerk." "But," said La bouehcre, 1 'lf I were in partnership with Mr. Hope?" "Oh. that would entirely make up for ali other deficiencies." Re turning to Amsterdam. Labouchere said to his patron: "You must take rae into part nership." "My young friend; how could you think of such a thing ? It is impossi ble ! You are without fortune, and—" "But if I become the son in-law of Mr. Ba ring ?" "In that case the affair would soon be settled, and so you have my word." For tified with these two promises. M. Labou chere returned to England, and in two months after married Miss Baring, because Mr. Hope had promised to take birn into partnership ; ana he thus became allied to the house of Hope & Co. His was a mag nificent career. LIFE'S AUTUMN. Like the leaf, life has its fading. We speak and think of it with sadne.-s, just as we think of the autumn season. But there should be no sadnets at the fading of a life that has done well its work. If we rejoice at the advent of a new life; if wo welcome the coming of a new pilgrim to the uncer tainty of this world's way, why should there be so much gloom wher all the uncertain ties arc past, and life at its warning wears the glory of a complete task? Beautiful as childhood is in its freshness aud innocence, its beauty is that of untried life. It is the beauty of promise, of spring, of the bud. A holier and rarer beauty is the beauty which the waning life of faith and duty wears. It is the duty of a thing completed; and as men come together when some great work is achieved, ana see in its concluding noth ing but glaidness, so ought we to feel when the setting sun flings back its beams upon a life that has answered well its purposes. When the bud-drops are blighted, and there goes all hope of the harvest, one may well be sad; but when the ripened year sinkz amid the garniture of autumn flowers and leaves, why should we regret or murmur ? And so a life that is ready and waiting to hear the "well-done" of God, whose latest virtues are its noblest, should be given back to God in uncomplaining reverent*, we re joicing that earth is capable of so much glad ness, and is permitted such virtue. CONCERNING LOAFERS. The loafer is_ an animal whose history, habits and destiny may be studied with profit- an encouraging fact, for it has been the prevalent belief that no profit whatever was to be derived from the creature. The moral and intellectual Darwin who shall in the future, courageously seek too find out in what vile germ of organic existence the Loafer had his calamitous origin, through what low forms of disreputable reptile life he reached hi.- present status in the abnor mal economy of things, and to what further development of eontemptibility his exist ence tends, will find a broad field ready for his cultivation. The curious student of "original sin" who shall endeavor to ascer tain how it was possible to plant in the pri mal soil of human nature, seeds of evil po tent enough to sprout iuta the u~* mies loaf ers of out day. will find himself utterly baf fled, and the reformer who shall endeavor to mitigate the misery, which loaferish ex istence entails on humanity, will be appall ed at the magnitude of the task. The problem is infinitely complicated by the traces of human characteristics existing in the subject How any individual, with human brains in his head and the sublime possibilities of a human destiny within his reach, can possibly reduce himself to the condition of the loafer, is puzzle enough to stagger the oldest philosopher. There is no use trying to understand how a Man can ever take to purposeless lounging on street corn ers ; loitering at crossings with no hope save to see a lady s stockings; standing on the pavement a dead .-tumbling block to all pro gress; bawling vile inuendos to his fellows that he may see a passing woman blush ; haunting the doors of halls and churches to see what indecent things he can say of de cent people; living his life with no purpose apparent save to humble the pride of human nature by proving how base it may become. The loafer is a fact; we know it, but no man can understand it Possibly nowhere else does the vile breed so flourish as in Pittsburgh. The vermin overrun the city. The pavements are not worn smooth with tbe walking of live men, but are worn into holes where the loafers stand. Trie corners are not places of pas sage, but good places for loafers to lean against. The public doors are not so much means of ingress and egress as convenient exchanges where loafers may meet and bar ter their foul stock of obscenity. The city seems in manner to exist for the conveni ence of loafers. Every available window stone Is black where loafers have sat upon it; every gutter shows the foot prints of men and women who have been crowded off the pavement by loafers. Every lady, un less she be deaf, is in constant peril of in sult. Let no injustice be done. Not all of the vile tribe who swarm .-o thickly are denizens of the "Hill" or of "Bull Run." Not all of theui wear their hair cropped and go in rags. A large percentage of them have ac counts with our best tailors, patronize our best barbers, and go home when they do go home, to brilliant parlors, and dance, possi were insulted by their vicious talk an nour ago. What can be done? The evil is a most pestileut one, and the call for a remedy im perative. It is usele.-s to appeal to the sub jects ol our complaint to uaend their own ways, for one who is mean enough to be a professional loafer. i- mean enough not to be ashamed of it. If they cannot all lie arres ted, or made to "move tm." or obliged to work, what can be don-: ? is there no phi lanthropist ingenious enough to devise i re lief, and bold enough to demand its adop tion ?— Pittsburgh Chronicle VALUE OF HORSEBAC K EXERCISE. A correspondent of the Cincinnati lingtci rer writes: Horseback riding with shootmg, rowing, walking, base ball, cricket, etc.. is ranked by physicians and writers on hy gienne. as one of the best modes of taking exercise. This pleasant recreation can be modified in violence and quantity, according to the condition of health and strength of the partaker ot it. tf a person is an invalid the motion of the horse can be used gently, and for a person in robust condition of body, the action can be made more violent and more prolonged Riding is considered to produce a very beneficial effect upon the fiver and digestive organs, highly promoting their healthy movements. The passing through the air either slowly or rapidly pre vents the inhalation again of" the expired breath, consequently every particle of air that is drawn into the lungs must be of the purest kind, if the rides are taken outside the impurities of cities. The atmosphere, too. is always the best the higher it is from the ground in salubrious localities. Then the elevation itself, although only a few feet tends toenliveu the spirits, giving the rider a sense of commanding objects, and I may add here, "the rest ot mankind" who are on foot. A auick pace is very exhilarating to the mind and has a strong tendency to dissipate any "blue devils" who may be lurking around it. The great I'itt, when he haa the oppressive cares of the British empire weighing so heavily on his shoulders, would order his carriage and four, and direct the postillions to drive at the rate ot ten or twelve miles an hour, as some sort of relief for his burdened and care worn intellect. The circulation of the blood is quickened by tbe motion of the saddle, and the muscles of the legs and thighs and the trunk are strengthened, particularly tho limbs by closely clasping, as they should, the horse s flanks. It is a pity our people do not ride more. The climate is sometimes made an excuse, but nobody who owns a "flyer" ever thinks it too cold to drive, and driving is much colder work than riding. If the summer mid day is too warm, the morning and evenings are delicious. As I said before, there is nothing like riding for the liver, the part of the human frame most usually out of order in America. I have received the greatest benefit in this respect. It has changed morbid liver passages to active ones, I ride about four to six hours a day. and am very much imptoved in health and spirits. I say this to encourage others, but the horse exercise must be constant and of an active kind. DIVINENESS OF IMAGINATION . —The imagination —the divinest of mental facul ties—is God's self in the soul. All our other faculties seem to me to have the brown touch ot earth on them; but this one carries the very livery of heaven. It is God's most supernal faculty, interpreting to us the difference between the visible and the invisi ble; teaching us how to take material and visible things and carry them up into the realm of the invisible and immaterial, and how to bring down material and visible things, and embody them _in visible and material svmbols: and so, being God's mes senger and prophet, standing between our souT and God's. VOLl'Mia; .10 II THE EOCCATIOJI or THE EYE. PVt* 1 Bena SJ* r * nnrelubie until developed by use. The infant u readily retches for the moon M for the rank lying in his Up, and even apprentices to a me cbanteal occupation frequently make ludi croua mistakes until they have acquired that skill of vision usually known as the "me chanical eye. ' eo necessary to every finished workman. It should be the object of boys even in their sports to cultivate this sense of vision as a means to their after success if any me chanical branch is to be their business in . • *• reason the use of the fowling piece, rifle, and the bow and arrow is to be commended. By either of these the eye be comes accustomed to measuring distances. °f distance is first aouuradhy .1- j-.i. - position or objects, frarifle is used and the sight is adjusted to one hundred yards it w well to first measure the distance by a line, as a pocket tape, and gradually to be come accustomed to fix the distance by the eye without any mechanical aid. It is sur prising bow expert even a boy may become in measuring distances by practice. We said the noting of the relative position of objects should at first be used as a means to the end, but as soon *3 possible the tyro should emancipate himself from this depen dence. After becoming familiar with dis tances on land the learner will find great difficulty in estimating distances on the water, especially on a smooth expanse, hav ing no fixed objects above its surface. He will generally underrate the distance. So in measuring across depressions, as a valley or even a narrow gulley, every boy knows the liability and danger of such miscalcula tions. It may appear easy to leap from one bank to the other of a brook, but often his confidence in the uneducated eye may be punished by a good, thorough wetting. The laws of optics should be made a study by the young. We well remember the many trials to which we were subjected when a bov in consequence of our ignorance of the refraction oflight in passing from a medium like the air into a denser one, as water. The pickerel loves to sun himself tying in shallow water, just beneath the sur face, where he remains perfectly motionless unless disturbed. The shooting of these fish, either with bow and anow or with the fowling piece, is a common amusement, but he who would succeed must understand, in practice if not in theory, the refraction of rays of light. The fish is not were he ap pears to be when seen at an angle, as when the spectator is on the bank. If aimed at the shot will not touch him. This quality of light can be illustrated by thrusting a straight stick into still water, as in a pail or tub of water. At the point where the sur face of the water touches the stick it will appear as if broken or bent at an angle. Measurements on a much smaller scale are also useful as educators of the eye. Af ter an examination of the foot rule with its divisions it is well to mentally calculate sur faces, as the length, width, and hight of a table, the dimensions of a block of wood, and- the." to yerifv. the . calculation hy the application of tne rule, which may be at all times carried in the pocket. These experiments may seem puerile, but the mechanic knows the value of them, and it is as well that the bov —the future ap prentice and workman —should thus prepare hiins'-lf for his course and make his way, as a learner, easier. No means to an end should be despised because of its apparent simplicity, and weather a man is a practical mechanic or not, he will often see the value ! of a correct eye in estimating and measuring, i — Scientific American. I THE LltlHT Or A CHEEFL'L FACE. There is no greater every day virtue than cheerfulness. This quality in men, among men, is like sunshine to the day or gentle, renewing moisture to parched hearts. The light of a cheerful face diffuses itself, and communicates the happy spirit that inspires it. Tho sourest temper must sweeten in the asmosphere of continuous good humor. As well might fog and cloud and vapor, hope to cling tothe sun illumined landscape as the blues and moroseness to combat jo vial speech and exhilirating laughter. Be cheerful always. There is no path easier traveled, no load but will be lighter, no shadow on heart or brain but will lift sooner in presence of a determined cheerfulness. It may at times seem difficult for the hap piest tempered to keep the countenance of peace and content ; but the difficulty will vanish wheo we trnly consider that sullen gloom and passionate despair do nothing but multiply thorns and thicken sorrows. It comes to us as providentially as good—and is as good, if we rightly apply its lessons : why not, then, cheerfully accept the ill, and thus blunt its apparent sting ? Cheerful ness ought to be the fruit of philosophy and Christianity. What is gained by peevish ness and fretfulness—by perverse sadness and sullenness ? If we are ill, let us be cheered by the trust that wc shall be in health ; if misfortunes befall us, let us be cheered by hopeful visions of better fortune; if death robs us of the dear little ones, let us be cheered by the thought that they are only gone before, to the blissful bowers where we shall meet to part no more forev er. Cultivate cheerfulness, if only for per sonal profit Ton will do and bear every duty and burden better by being cheerful. It will be your consoler in solitude, your passport and commendation in society. You will be more sought after, more trusted and I esteemed for your steady cheerfulness. The i bad, the vicious, may be boisterously gay ; and vulgarly humorous, but seldom or ney ;er truly cheerful. Genuine is j an almost certain index of a happy mind and a pure, good heart MIXING BABIES. An Alliance correspondent of the Canton (O. ) Repository relates the following . Some days ago there was a dancing party given for the beneJt of the Fenians, on the out skirts of town, and several of the ladies present had little babies, whose noisy per versity required too much attention to allow their ma's to enjoy the 'hop. A number j of gallant young men volunteered to guard the infantry while the ladies engaged in the i 'break down.' No sooner had the mothers ; left the little cherubs in the hands of the ! mischievous wretches, than they stripped ; the darlings, changed their clothes, giving | the apparel of one to another. The dance j over, the mothers each took, as she thought her own baby, and hurriedly left the scene ; of gaities and started to their homes, sever | al miles apart, being far on the way before i the 'peep-o'-day.' On the following day there was a tremendous row in the settle ment. Mothers discovered that a single night had changed the sex of their babies, and then commenced some of the tallest fe male pedestrianism. Living miles apart it required two days to uomix the little cher- I übs, and it will require as many weeks to i restore the mothers to their natural sweet I dispositions. „ RATES OF ADVERTISING. i All advertisements for ICM thus < months 1* cents per line for each insertion. fc pee I*l notices onehalf additional. All reaotations of Associa tion, commanieatiooe cf a limited or iadirldual interet* and notices of marriage* and death*, ex ceeding 4ve lines, 16 ets. per line. All legal aoti. oee of every kind, and all Orphans' Court and other Judicial sales, are repaired by law to be pub* lished in both papers, editorial Notices 14 cent, per line. All Advertising dee after irirt insertions A liberal discount made to yearly vdrertiaer*. S months. 6 months. 1 year One square 4.40 $ 6.66 g10.66 Two squares. ,00 0.06 16.66 Three sqares... 8.66 13.06 20.60 Ona-fourth column 1166 26.66 36.06 Half c01umn...... 18.66 34.66 46.60 Oao column 36.66 44.66 86.06 THE UTILITY Or FLOWERS. "Not useless are ye, flowers ; though made for pleasure, Blooming o'er field und ware* by day and ~ "ht, r rom every source your sanction bids me treasure Harmless delight."— Hoaxes SMITH. There is a class of men who would pare down everything to the mere grade of utrti ty , who think it the height of wisdom to **a, when one manifests an enthusiasm in the culture of flowers, "of what use are they ?" With such we have no sympathy. e will not say with the late Henry Cole man. in case such as interrogatory being put to us, 'that "owe first impulse is to look wider his Mat and see the length of hu ears," t ! with theirs. "Better" (say these ultra utilitarians) "devote our time to the culture of things useful and Deedful to sustain life, than to employ it on things, which, like flowers, are intended only to look at and please the eye." 'But why," would we ask, why should not the eye be pleased?' What pleasures more pure, more warming to the heart, more improving to the mind, more chastening to the affections, than those which oome through the eye ? Where more luminously displayed the perfections of the Creator, than m the star spangled heavens above, and the flower spangled earth be neath ? "Your voiceless lips, oh flowers, are living preachers, Each cap a pulpit, and each leaf a book, Supplying to my fancy an-nerous teachers From the loneliest nook." Nonsense,—sheer nonsense to tell us it is useless to cultivate flowers. The/ add to the charms of our homes; rendering them more attractive and beautiful, aud they mul tiply and strengthen the domestic ties which binds us to them. Wc would not advocate the cultivation of flowers to the neglect of more necessary objects. Attending to the one does not involve neglect to the other. Every man engaged in the culture of the earth, can find time to embellish his premi ses who has the will to do it, and we pity the family of the man who has not. "Rob the earth ofitsfloweis, the wondrous mech anism of the Almighty, aud we should lose the choicest mementoes left us that it wf a once a paradise."— Breck't New Book of Flotcers. HENRY WARD BEECHERON FOPS. But what shall I say of those miserable despicable sprigs of humanity that live to. adorn their pocket handkerchiefs and their collars? Men that walk through society with the thought that the chief end of their life is to engage in the frivulous amusements of the passing hour, and to spend their time between those frivolous amusements and their mirror, thinking of doing nothing and wanting to do nothing, men a million of whom might live in the air and we be no more conscious of their existance than of fUv UAlotvuw of liaxbto ,„J men a million of whotn might die and all be put in one grave—if you only buried their souls; men that put on airs of gentility and niceness and look upon the ruae clown, as they call the working man, with supreme oontempt, and pity him; men that have no respect for those that are obliged to get up early and sweep out the store; men that are just as certain to die knaves, if they do not die fools, as there is a law in nature! I can not express my abhorrence for these strip lings of folly. And I declare that, in omr time of the world, with our illumination, with duties pressing from every side, and with all the inculcations, and examples that have been handed down to us of disciples of Christianity, a man that finis nothing to do and has no disposition to do anything, is a fractional man. He is not even a bright shining fragment. And of all men that are lawful prey of contempt and the curling of the lip, these wbittlings of gentility are the most eminent. LABOR HONORABLE. Labor is not only useful, but necessary and honorable. It makes the framework of society, and is the basis of civilization. In what consists the chief difference between the civilized man and the savage ? The former labors in one way or another ; the latter is idle. Our daily food, all the arts and refinements and luxurious indulgences of life are the products of labor, from the first tilling of tne soil and raising a primi tive hut, up to the construction of stately mansions, palaces and churches, with all their interior decorations. Not less neces sary is labor in its infinite variety of diver sions for personal comfort and adornment, whether it be in manufacture of the coarse woolen for protection against cold, or of those rich silks and brocade and laces, the wearers of which, in parlor or drawing room, in court receptions or in the ball room, too often forget the many dexterous hands that labored to gratify their desire for such rich display. We know not how far the heaven of aris tocracy may be fermenting in the minds of those American citizens who, by wealth and station, may now be uppermost in society. They can hardly forget that most of them have been elevated by labor—if not of their own hands, at any rate by the labor of oth ers, who have plowed, sowed and reaped, spun and wove, plied the hammer on the anvil, and kept furnace and forge a-going to swell their incomes, and give them leisure, ease and enjoyment DARK HOURS. —To every man there arc many, many dark hours, when he feels in clined to abandon his best enterprise—when his heart's dearest hopes appear delusive hours when he feels unequal to the burden, when all his aspirations seem worthless. Let no one think that he alone has dark hours. They are the common lot of hu manity. They are the touchstone to try whether we are current coin or not. are a coward if afraid to tell the truth when you should do so. You are a coward when you insult the weak. You are a coward if afraid to do right, if you shrink from defending your opinion, from maintain ing that whims you know to be just and food ; and you are especially a coward if you now certain things of yourself, and dare not own them to yourself. KINDNESS. —Kind words are looked upon like jewels on the breast, never to be forgot ten, and, perhaps, to cheer thy memory along sad life; while words of cruelty, or ewefessness, are like swords in the bosoui, wounding, and leaving scars which will be borne to the grave by their victim. Do you think there is any bruised heart which bears the mark of such a wound from you ? If there is a living one which jou have wound ed hasten to heal it; for life is short—to morrow may be too lata.