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>i<i within the year H3.UO.
SjrofessfonaJ & SJaginusiS Card*
ATTOKIETB AT LAW.
S. L. KI'SSfiLL J. H. LoseE<i EI'KKK.
RUSSELL i. LONGEXECKER,
VT7OHSEYS A COCSSELLOKS AT LAW,
Bedford, Pa.,
Will attend promptly and faithfully to all busi
nes- entrusted to their care. Special attention
given to collections and the prosecution of claims
for Back Pay, Bounty, Pensions, Ac.
iSD-ORee on Juliana street, south of the Caurt
House. Aprilailyr.
a. r. MEYHES J. V. DICKERS**
Mt. VERS A DICKERSON,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BEOrOKB, PESS'A.,
Office same as formerly occupied by Hon. W. P.
Schell, two doors east of the Gazette office, will
practice in the several Courts of Bedford county.
Pensions, bounties and back pay obtained and the
par. h .se of Real Estate attended to.
May 11, '—lyr.
1 OHX T. KEAGY.
.J ATTORNEY AT LAW.
BBDFOBD, PEXVA.,
Offers to give satisfaction to all may en
trust their legal business to him. Will collect
moneys on evidences of dehc, and speedily pr0,,,r..
~,r . . bounties and pensions to soldiers, their wid
,- r heirs. Office two doors west of Telegraph
See. aprll:'6-ly.
I B. CESSNA,
J . ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Office with JOHY CESSSA, on Julianna street, in
the "ffice formerly occupied by King A Jordan,
aud recently by" Filler A Keagy. All business
entrusted to his care will receive faithful and
prompt attention. Military Claims. Pensions, Ac.,
-peedilv collected.
Bedford, June 9,13(55.
J- M'n. SB ARPE E. P. KERR
UIHARPE A KERR,
0 A TTORXE YS-A T-LAW.
Will practice in the Courts of Bedford and ad
joining counties. All business entrusted to their
care will receive carefui and prompt attention.
Pensions, Bounty, Back Pay, Ac., speedily col
lected from the Government.
Office on Juliana street, opposite the oaaking
house of Reed A Schell, Bedford, Pa. mar2:tf
J P. nr-RBORROW JOB* LVTX.
T vl RBORHOW A LITTZ,
17 ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BEEFORD, PA.,
Will attend promptly to all business intrusted to
their care. Collections made on the shortest no
tice.
They are, also, regularly licensed Claim Agents
an i will give special attention to the prosecution
claims against the Government for Pensions,
Back Pay, Bounty, Bounty Lar. l-. Ac.
Office en Juliana street, one door South of the
• Mengel House" and nearly opposite the Inquirer
g ce . April 28. 13<55:t
FT SPY M. A LSI P,
Fa ATTORNEY AT LAW, BEDFORD, PA.,
Will faithfnlly and promptly attend to all busi
-- entrusted to his care in Bedlord
; counties. Military claims. Pensions, back
: v. Bounty, Ac. speedily collected. Office with
Ma .n A Spang, on Juliana street, 2 Jo r south
the Mengel House. apl 1, 136-I.—tf.
M. A. POINTS.
ATTORNEY AT LAW. BEDFORD. Pi.
Ke-pectfuily tenders hi.- professional services
the public. Office w.:h J. W. Lingenfelter,
K j .on Juliana street, two doors fiktuth <>f 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. „
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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.