SUBSCRIPTION TERMS, Ac. The lauctitKß ut puMinhede-. ery FII>AY U>..ru ing *t the following rto.< : O** Yr.st, (in idniM,) .>2."e '• fit not paid within fix 52..H " 'li not [>*nl within thr jroac,)... * C® All out-id? of thu >un(y tiwiitioer-i without notice, at the exp rjJv.n of the time lor whii-h the -l"*cription loo* Keen I '- 'i Single wpi''* of the Jt-qr; :u i S.*ELL A LONG KN EG'K Kit. IV ASTTOBXEVS ft Cor.vstsM.OK- AT LAW, Bedford, Pa , W Attend promptly and faithfully to all hnsi in entrusted to their .-aiv. .Special attention uin to collections and the prosecution of claims i r Reek Pay. Bounty, Pensions, Ac. JSR-Offire on Juliana street, oath of the Court Xlcu.-e. Aprils:lyr. 'l'll. B- V. KERR n 1! A RPE A KERIt. t> A T TO USE rs -A T- L .1 U . Will practice in the Courts of Bedford and ad joining counties. All business entrusted to their care w ill re vive careful and prompt attention. Pern-ions, Bounty, Back Pay, Ac., speedily col iceted fr-nn the Government. Office on Juliana afreet, opposite the banking house of Bee I A .*chell, Bedford, Pa. mar2:tf . n. roan M'T*. I \ t'RBOKROVV A LUTZ. ! } ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BEi.roßt', PA-, tt i;: attend promptly to all business intruste 1 to their cure. Collections made on the shortest no i hi v arc, also, regularly licensed Claim Agents ,n i will give special attention to the prosecution ot 'aim.- again.-t the Government for Pensions, Rack Pay, Bounty, Bounty Lands, Ac. office on Juliana street, one door .-oath el the Vioogel House" and nearly opposite the /•"(>■ April**. 1 >*>s:t. PIIISKIASS. IITM. w. JAMISON. M. D., \\ Bloody KI N, P\-, Kt-jfOctfuHy tenders hi* profe#.ilonil .*"rv icct to ihr people of that place and vkinity. [decSrtjr 1 \K. B. F. HARRY, \ f Ropeotfullj lea'ler? hi. proteBBional -rr vicoa to the citizenB of Bedford and vicinity. Gfficf and residence -ii Pitt S*ree, in th- h-iildina formerly occupied hy Dr. J. 11. Hofiu*. fAp 1 1,64. ■ f la. MAKBOI'BG, M. I)., • J • Having permanently located respectfully ; tfotlera hU pofes-ional lervictt to the riiizcna | .t i'.odiord and vicinity. Office or. Juliana -treet, I pp*sjte the Bank, one door north ot Hal! A Pal- ! mtr't office. April i, I*64 tf. I \ W, S. G. STATLEH, near ScheH-hiirjr. and I r Dr. J. J. TLA RKE, formerly of oiioty, having **TKL. This lurge and romiuudiou bouse, having b-en I r*- taken by the suhsw:ril>er, it now ojien for the re • rption of visitors and boarders. The rooms arc j large, wc!! ventilated, and comfortably furnished. ; The table will alwv. supplied with the best j the H arket *I afford. The Bar is stocked with ! the choicest liquors. In ?hort, it ymy purpose ; t.. keep a FIRST CLASS HOTEL. Thanking th* public for pa>t favors, 1 respectfully solicit a : r u'wl of iheir patronage. N. I j. Hack.- will run constantly between the ; Hotel and the Springs, may 17,'67:1 y WM. DIB BUT, Prop'r. ] MlS< I l l lM iH S. PLTPP A SHANNON. BANKERS. IV BKDFOKD, PA. | BANK OF DLSCOFXT AND DEPOSIT. j Collections made lor the East, Wc-t, X*rth and ! Hi, ami the general business of Exchange i 'r;uiactri. Notes anl Accounts Collected and j Hem it lan- 4 promptly made. REAL ESTATE might and sold. feb22 j \ VNI EI, BORDER, I " PITT street, TWO DOORS WEST or THE BED i t cn BOTE!.. EF.er HT>, PA. W AT' II M A K EH AND DEALER IN JEWEL RY. .oPECTACLKt*. AC. kcf f< >n hand a stork of tine Gold and Sl -■ ' r 1 atchir.-, taclea tf Brilliant Double Retin ' iia- ♦ also Scotch Pebble Glasses. Gold -f h Chains, Breast. Pins. Finger Kings, best uality of Gold Pens. He will supply to order •*y thing in his line not on hand. [ >pr.28,*65. | l \ '••>! <> YES!—The undersigned h.*A taken • z ut auction license, and tender* his eervicea ! wht> Siavc pales or auctions to cry. Give ; Din; i .ill. Post Office address, Spring Meadows, Bfifur i county, Penn'a. A|.l :tm' HENRY B. MOCK. 31 umi irtr. Dt'KKOKROW & LUTE Editor* and Proprietor*, (>* THE SHOHES OF TENNESSEE. "Move my arm chair, faithful Pompey, In the sunshine bright aud strong. For this world is fading, Pompey— Massu won't be with you long : And I fain would hear the south wind Bring once more the sound to me Of the wavelets softly breaking On the shore* of Tennessee. "Mournful though the ripples murmur, As they still the story tell, How no vessels float the banner That I've loved so long and well, I shall listen to their music, Dreaming that again I see Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop, Sailing up the Tennessee. "And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting For death's last despatch to come, If that exiled starry banner Should come proudly sailing home, Yon shall greet it. slave no longer— S'oice and hand shall hoth be free That shout and point to Union colors, On the wave* of Tennessee." "Massa's herr; kind to Pompey : But ole darky's happy here, Where he's tended corn and cotton For ese many a long gone year. Over yonder Missis sleeping— No one tends her grave like me : Mebbe she would miss the flowers She used to love in Tennessee. "'Pears like she was watching, Massa, If Pompey should beside him stay: Mebbe she'd remember better How for him shfi used to pray : Telling hiin that way up yonder White as snow his soul would be. If he served the Lord ol heaven While he lived in Tennessee." Silently the tears wore rolling Down the poor old dusky face. As lie stepped behind bis master, Tn his long accustomed place. Then -i silenre fell around them. As they gazed on rock and tree, Pio'ured in the placid waters Of the rolling Tennessee: — Master, dreaming of the battle Where he fought by Marion's side, When he hid the haughty Tarleton Sloop his lordly crest of pride : Man, remembering how yon sleeper Once he hdd upon his knee, Ere she loved the gallant soldier, Ralph Vervair. of Tennessee. Still the south wind fondly lingers 'Mid the veteran's silvery hair; Still the bondman, close beside him. Stands behind the old arm chair. With his dark-lined hand uplifted, Shading eyes, he bends to see Where the woodland, boldly jutting, Turns aside the Tennessee. Thus lie watches cloud-born shadows Glide tram Lrfe to OMWJiGain j'CXMi Softly creeping, aye and ever, To the river's yielding breast. Ha! above the foliage yonder Something flutters wild and free! "Massa! Massa! Hallelujah! The flag'* come back to Teunessee!" "Pompey hold me on your shoulder, Help me stand on foot once more. That 1 may salute the colors As they pass my cabin door. Here's the paper signed that frees you ; Give a freeman's shout with me— ' God and Union!' be our watchword Ever more in Tennessee. Then the trembling voice grew fainter, And the limbs refused to stand : One prayer to Jesus —and the soldier Glided to that better land. When the flag went, down the river, Man and master both were free. While the ring-dove's note was mingled With the rippling Tennessee. ptefdiancoU£. W ENDELL PHILLIPS AND A SOUTH. EKN WOMAN. One day during the war. he spoke before the lyeenm of Gloucester, and returning home by the ears next morning fell in with a lady, who got upon the train at away sta tion. She was a Southern refugee, who had been suddenly reducing from affluence to p tverty, and was supporting herself and Iter fatherless children by giving an occasional lecture Itd'ore a country audience. It was a hard straggle, for the fit-Id was full, and she was alino.-t unknown and friendless; but with a brave heart she worked on. never asking a dollar of aid from any society or individual. Mr. Phillip* saw her get uj>on the car, and asked her to take a seat be side hiui. It was a winter day. and she was thinly clad, and -hivering from the exposure of a long ride in the open air of a cold morning. Observing this Mr. Phillip* asked, "Where did you speak last night ?" She told hint it was a town ten miles dis tant from the railway. "And-—I wouldn't i* impertinent—how much did they pay you ?" "Five dollars and the fare to and from Boston. "Five dollars!" be exclaimed, "why I alwaj - get fifty or a hundred, and your lec ture iiiu-t be worth more than mine—you can give them facts, and I only opinions." "Small a* it is [ am very glad to get it. Mr. Phillip*," answered the lady, " I would talk at that rate every night during the winter." He -at fl i- a moment in silence; then he put his hand into his pocket, drew out a roll of hank notes, and -aid. in a hesitating way : " I don t want to give offense, but you know I preach that a woman i- entitled to the -ante as a man if she does the work. Now, my price is fifty or a hundred dollars, ami if you will let tue divide it with you I shall not have any more than you, and the thing will he even." The lady at first refused, hut af ter a little urging, she put the notes into her reticule. At the end of her journey, she counted the roll, and found it contained fifty dollars—every dollar that he had received for his lecture at Gloucester. It may add to this incident to say that the lady washy marriage, a niece of Jefferson Davis.—\>ir York E''miny (r'Wt l ENERGY OK CHARACTER. — I lately hap pened to notice, with some surprise, an ivy whi'-h being prevented from attaching itself to a rock beyond a certain point, had shot off in a hold clastic stem, wirh an air of as tnueh independence as any branch of oak in the vicinity. 80 a human living thrown, whether by cruelty, justice or accident, from ail "octal supporter kindness, if he has any vigor of spirit, and is not in the bodily de bility of -. illier childhood or age. will in stantly begin to act for himself, with a reso lution which will appear like a new faculty. —Foster. A LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWSPAPER, DEVOTED TO POLITICS, EDUOATION, LPTEKATURE AND MORALS IVORDKHS OF CALIFORNIA—TUB GEYSKRS. The Geysers of California are unequaled ' among the hot .springs of the world. Tliey are readied by steamer across the bay from San Francisco to Pctaluma ; thence by stage for about fifty miles, over one of the tine.-t farming regions of the State. Froui Fo *' Station—the Geysers are twelve miles dis tant. and are reached by a wild, romatuic road. For two mile* it winds along the Hog back, a mountain .summit like the ridge pole of a steep roof. It has been leveled until barely wide enough for carriage wheels, and on each side one looks down precipitous i bank for one or two thousand feet. If the wheels diverge ten inches from the track the i load of passengers would reach the bottom much in the couditionof a bushel of apples after passing through a eider-mill. The ridges display the dense shrubbery of the manzineta or mountain mahony, upon ! whose red juicy berries grizzly bear* subsist 1 and travelers quench their thirst; the >trongly spiced bay or pepper wood, which has the virtue of driving away fleas, and the | exquisite mailrona. with a round IVuit tasi ! ing like the drilcd thiinbieberry. Here bears and antelope* offer great temptations to j hunters. ; The roar of the Geysers is heard, and i their smoke seen two miles away, in favora ble conditions of the atmosphere. After being whirled along a road which pitches down sixteen hundred feet, with thirty live -harp turns in two miles, the visitor finds himself in a narrow valley, viewing hundred* ot ateani-jets puffing up from the ground. They are chiefly in a ravine half a miie long, know as the Devil's Cannon. Steep walls rise from fifty to one hundred and fiity feet, bare, spongy, ashy, clayey soil, without the : faintest sign of grass or shrub. There arc ■ fully one thousand places where steam is sues from their soil. Hot water often bub bels up above the surface; hut much more startling and impressive is the boiling with in hundreds of cavities underground. One feels that only the flimsiest shell protects him from some vast subterranean cauldrou. At times the ground vibrates so as to rattle crockery in the hotel one-thirdofa mile : away. Hot, and cold, and boiling springs are found side by side, each with its own in dividual hue —blue, brown, black, red, green, yellow, pink or grey. There con stituents vary greatly, though soda, magne sia. Epson salts anu various salts of iron predominate. [u passing up the canon the visitor burns his fingures and receives stifling blasts froui ! natural hot furnaces. He must be cautious I where he steps, unless he would break i through the crust into sotne of the seething ! pools below. Steamboat Spring is puffiing i through an aperture as large as the body of a man, with a roar like a great steamship, the j column rising up for hundreds of feet. The vent holes are two springs, a few feet apart, which will boil an egg in a minute and a half, and from which the steam escapes with great force. A stone, as large as amali - tis t. thrown into one of them, rebouud three or four feet, like an India rubber ball. along the I'luton river: and travelers crson< are incessantly BEDFORD. PFKIUAY. AUGUST 16. 1867 grumbling because we cannot grasp the for eign trade of New York, the produce trade of Chicago, the cotton trade of the south, and alma-t everything else; yet Philadelphia has her field in which she shines preemi nently, as in the sugar, coal. West Indian, South American, iron and other branches of trade. Many of the-e croaker* obstinately refuse to believe that Philadelphia is- the greatest manufacturing city iu the world, when statistic* aburoSntly prove the fact. We would not have Philadelphians sit down contentedly in the belief that all this entitles them to rest on their lautels, nor have we any fear that they will do so. But surely these thing- ntitle the city to a far higher' rank than sht enjoys, and we should on all occasion* insist upon her claims being respected, ixtli at home and abroad. We are accu taucd to speak of Philadelphia as the second city in America. In many respects she i* the first. Her per manent improvements outstrip all rivalry, and in actual houses she is the greatest city on this continent. The mere furnishing of supplies to such a city insufficient to employ more capital than is devoted to t lie trade of many large States. It should nut be forgotten, too, that all kinds of business pay relatively as well here as anywhere else; than those who go else where, under the mistaken iniiiression tlmt business can there be more easily obtained, generally foil, that all the inonev so liberally invested here in improvements has been made here in legitimate pursuits, which is the best proof that could possibly be afforded ofthe sub.-iuiitial character of that trade of which we hear so many disparaging reports. —North Amrricatt. BEECHEK ON THE SUNDAY QUES TION, His view* on Hie New England Observ ance. The following is from Henry Ward Beech cr's novel of "Norwood." in the New York Lnb/er: It is worth all inconveniences arising from the occasional overaction of New England Sabbath observance to obtain the Full flavor of a New England Sunday. But for this, one should have been born there; should have found Suuday already waiting for him, and accept it with implicit and absoluteconviction, as if it were a law of nature, in the same way that uightaudday, summer and winter, are parts of nature. He should have been brought up by parents who had done the same thing; as they were by parents even more strict, if that were possible; until, not religious persons pecu liarly, but everybody—not churches alone, but -ocicty itself and all its population, those who broke it a* much as those who kept it—were stained witli the color of Sun day. Nay, until nature had adopted it, and laid its commauds on all birds aud beasts, on the sun aud winds, and upon the whole atmosphere *0 that, without much imagina tion, one might imagine, in a genuine New England Sunday of the Connecticut river valley stamp, that God was still on that day, resting from all the work he had created and made, aud that all his work rested with him : Over all the town rested the Lord's peace! The saw was ripping away yesterday in the carpenter'a shop, and the hammer was noisy there. The anvil makes no tnusie to-day. Tommy Taft's buckets and barrels give fort h no hollow thumping sound. The mill is sileut -tiiilv the brook continues noisy. Li.-tcu ! In yonder pine woods what a caw ing of crow* ! Like an echo, iu a wood still more remote, other crows are answering. But even a crow's throat to day i.- musical. Do they think, because they have black coats on, that they are parsons, and have a right to play pulpit with all the pine trees! Nay. The bird* will not have any such monopoly, they are all singing, and singing altogether, and no one wires whether his song rushes across another's or not Larks and robin-, blackbirds and orioles, sparrows and bluebirds, mocking catbirds, and wrens were furrowing the air with such mixtures, as uu other day but Sunday, when all arti ficial and hutuan sound cease, eould ever hear. Every uow and then the bobolink seemed impressed with the duty of bringing these jangling birds into regularity ; and like a country singing master, ho flew down the lank-, -iocuig the parts himself in snatches, as ii to stimulate and help the laggard-. In vain ! Sunday is the bird's day, and they will have their own Democrat ic worship. There wu no sound in the village street. Look either way—not a vehicle, not a hu mau being! The smok ■ ro-e up soberly and quietly, as if it -aid: It is Sunday. Tl.e leaves on the groat elm hung motionless, glittering in the Jew. as if they too. like the people who dwelt under their shadow, were waiting for the hull to ring for meeting. Bees sung and fluw a- usual, but honey-bees have a BundayAvay with them all the week, and could scarcely change for the better on the seventh day. But oh, the sun! It bal sent before and cleared every stain out of the sky. The blue heaven was not dim and low, as on secular days, but curved and deep, as if on Buudav it shook off all incumbrance whieh duritig the week had lowered and flattened it, and sprang back to the arch and symme try of a dome. Atl ordinary sounds caught the spirit of the day. The shutting of the doot sounded twice as far as usual. The ratL'.e of the bucket in the neighbors' yard, no longer mixed with the hetrogeneous noi ses, seemed a new sound. The hens went silently about, and roosters crowed in psalm tunes. And when the first bell rung, na ture seemed ovegoyed to find something that ii might do without breaking Bunday, and rolled the sound over and over, and pushed it through the air, and raced with it over the field and hill, twice a> far as on week days. ECCENTRICITIES OK FASHION. -The London' Jmtrmtl says: The costume ol the fashiona ble Londoner just now is a marvel, and it is very difficult for those of us whom the con version of the Tories to household suffrage has not yet prepared for any change, not to break forth with laughter when we see fair creatures who lately occupied the whole of the pavement when walking singly, now walking six abreast in garments suggestive of Brighton bathing machine* rather than the London streets. Thcj have -hrurik up ahii i-t to a line, which as mathematicians till us, has length but no breadth—always excepting the coffures, It is quite po—ible now foi a woman to be in one -trc<-t and her chignon in the next. For once the ec cosilideities of female attire are being copied by the men. They, too, have adopted the swathing system; and one sees nether gar ment* now that are not only inexpressible but inexplicable. How their wearers get into them, and how by any process except bandaging these wonderful appendages arc donned is a marvel. As to bats there is a r ice going on ju-t now between the dandies and our fine ladies, to see which can wear the smallest headdres-. Next year we shall be compelled to raise all our doorway* in order to admit the steeples that will then be iu fashion, for it is ever the custom of fools to tush into extremes. SATURDAY NIGHT. One bjr .onr the days go out. Saturday night ootues. One by one the hopes go out. Eternity comes. Like hailstones, the days drop from the cloud of the time, to fall cold and dreary into a fathomless past. Each dav is a life —u history. The hopes of the morning are tears by night—the air castles of Monday arc graves by Saturday night alas to oft. God gives us sun, life, health, rain, friends, and that whieh is more blessed than all, golden hope. All the rest de-ert us but hope, twin .-tsters of immortality, is ours through the week— into the grave to bear us dry and happy through the'stygian flood and on to God. Blessed be Hope, and blessed be nights which call us to kneel at her altar. Changes have come during the interim between this arid last Saturday night. Many a mound in the church yard or cem etery marks God's praises on the desolate human heart. Many a heart's joy has been nipped in sadness. Many a dress which one week since was white is now the deepest mourning. Some mourn. Some wear mourning while the heart rejoices. Some there are whose hearts are darker than the arave, for the lamp of love is broken and the joys of years have gone home. Scarlet buds, sombre blossoms. Such is life. Who of us is nearer heaven than one week since? Who of us have laid up treas ures above ? Who of us have mellowed the earth in which all must rest 1 The ae ouunt is for or against us! We all thought and vowed one week since to do right, but alas for temptation ! All of us have argued with the subtle reaoner—a few of us have come off victorious. Prayers have been uttered since last Saturday night. Curses have been invoked. The record has been perfectly kept,and some day it will be open ed to our eyes. Let us rest from labor and renew our vows. By the family fireside— by the family altar—by the cot and the couch, there is much to do this night. Look back down the dark lane. See what a wreck Is there strewn. Hopes whieh have died. Promises badly broken. Good, intentions and noble resolutions lie bleeding and torn as far back as the eye can reach. Hard words lie where soft ones would have been better. There are disappointments and betrayal, bitter words and wicked acts strewn thick over the ground. Ruins— ruins—ruins! Here and there a frtgrant flower lifts its silent voice and rears its per ly leaf to gladden the debris around. Here and there a blossom. Here and there, but to far apart, can be seen the beautiful in -trange contrast to the ruins and wrecks. Life is a dark lane. Would to God there were moro flowers and fewer ruins ! Would there were more loves, fewer hates! More white and less red ! How the changes come o'er us 1 What gave joy is now a pile of ashes. The lips we loved to ki-s a week since, now have no nectar! The hand which once thrilled in rapture at the -light touch of love, now forget to answer baek. The eye has grown cold or worse than indifferent. VYho is to iidu,o? Ouuieuoe. AUG why.* rxonetmt God can tell truly. As the sun goes down and the Sabbath rises, let us strive again ! Mother, clasp still closer to your heart the pledge you now cares*, for God may want it baek before Saturday night is yours. The pet you ki*.?ed and caressed a week ago ha* been taken away—who will go next'.' Deal gently with those who have erred. Heaven i* forgiving. < lod is love, -trivc to be hap py. la-'t kind words, good wishes and liber ality of sentiment*, expand all our hearts this night, for they are blessed influences— none to plenty. If you have a friend draw him closer to your heart. If you have a life in your keeping, do by it as you would be done by. I'ause ere you do evil. Think of the re ward there for those who love. Look back. Listen! A little prattling voice, now stilled in death. A mother's gentle tone*, per haps well nigh forgotten : a *ister's plaintive eye tH calling you to happiness! Look over the past —the blessed tnomories —the mo mcntoes of the heart—and tell us if you are not glad that Heaven is nearer by one more Saturday night. FEVERS AND FRUIT. Let's have a little talk about, orchards and gardens as life preserver*. Many a far mer thinks lie "can't fuss about a garden " with vegetables and small fruits in ample variety, hardly about an orchard, especially beyond apple trees. So he goes out to weightier matter* of grain or stock,or dairy, and eats potatoes, wheat, bread, pork and salt beef all summer long; no fine variety of vegetables, no grateful berries, no luscious peaches, or juicy cherries. But October fever comes, or bowel complaints ot some kind, or some congestive troubles, most likely. He is laid up, work stops a month, the doctor comes, and he "drags round all winter, and the doctor's bill drags too. The poor wife, meanwhile, gets dyspeptic, constipated, has fever too, perhaps, and she "just crawls around." What's the matter? They don't know, poor souls. Would they build a hot fire in July and shut the doors? Of course not —in their rooms; but they have done just that in their poor stomachs? How so? They have been eating all sum mer the heat producing food fit for a cold season, but not for a warm ouc. A Green lander can eat candles and whale fat,because they create heat. In January we are up toward Greenland—in climate. A Hindoo lives on rice, juicy fruits and tropic vegeta bles, cooling and opening to the system. In July we move toward Hindoostan, in a heat almost tropical. Diet must change too. Have apples, pears, cherries, etc.. front the orchard every day, of early and late kinds. 1/Ct there be plenty ofgood vegetables, rasp berries, etc. it takes a little time and trou ble, but it's the cheapest way to nav the doctor's bills. And bless your souls these things taste good! You study what feed is g'SHi for pigs and cattle. AH right but wife and children arc of higher consequence, and i.'s a shame if, with all our great gifts of in tellect and intuition, we do not obey the di vine laws in our own physical being so well that the doctor shall vfoit the house less than the horse doctor goes to the barn. Don't foil of vegetables, Derries and fruits. Try it, and you'll say we haven't told half the tiuth. Rural iVetr Yorker. VIRTUE. — There is but one pursuit in life which it is in the power of all to follow and all to attain. If is subject to no disappoint ments, since ho that perseveres makes every difficulty and advancement, and every contest a victory; and this is the pursuit of virtue. Sincerely to aspire after virtue, is to gain her ; and zealously to labor after her wages, is to receive them. Those that seek her early, will find her before it is too late ; her reward also is with her, aud she will come quickly. For the brea-t of a good man is a little heaven commencing on earth ; where the Deity is enthroned with unrival ed influence, over safety from danger, re sources from sterility, and subjugated pas sion, "like the wind and storm, fulfilling his word." VOLUME 10: VO fa. SMALL TAI.K. It is a very common thing to speak with contempt of ''small talk," as it is called, es pecially among young men of education, who are just beginning to think of the more serious affairs of life and philosophy, and who are anxious to converse in the drawing room upon "improving" subjects. Now. small talk is a necessity of social life. It holds as important a place in the easy inter course of society as oil does in the steam ! engine. Grant that men and women are so- j eial beings, and that the various relations | and pleasantries of society are necessary to j our happiness, and the value of small talk cannot be denied. Two mere philosophers may sit together for hours, and if the weigh ty thoughts of either condescend to the uses ol their tongues, their conversation, ten to one, will be "weary, stale, and flat," if not, indeed, "unprofitable." Introduce a little small talk—jokes, quips, anecdotes, non sense —and thought moves easily, conversa tion becomes recreation; even philosophy finds its place, is actually graceful and pleas es as well as instructs. What is a party or any social gathering without small talk? An unmitigated bore. Not that we would have nothing but small talk, as is too fre quently, perhaps, the ease in society ; but this is the only medium by which those who meet but seldom can become acquainted with each other ; and it is the surest way of oalling out plea-ant thoughts and pithy sug gestions ujton more serious and important subjects. We suspect that in most cases of profess- j ed contempt for small talk among ambitions i young men there is a little mixture of the i sour grape cleloment. They lack the energy j to overcome the natural tendency of the ad- j olescent human male to relapse into silence j at every opportunity suggested by the eon- : elusion of a "subject." The position is an i awkward one, and as the only remedy, small j talk, is out of reach, contempt for it is a ! very natural result. The female adolescent, j fortunately for the comfort of both sexes, is ! generally gifted with small talk by nature, i and often cornea to the assistance of her embarrassed "correlative" in a very fascina ting and peculiarly womanly way by doing the talking herself. Here, as everywhere, the kindly and beneficent foresight of Na ture commands our unlimited admiration. But small talk has its degrees like every thing else. There is some talk so excessive ly minute that microscopic examination fails to disclose any sense. A frequent mistake of young men who arc gifted with this very essential social convenience is the idea that ladie: in society are not constituted to ap preciate anything except small talk, and the j smallest kind of small talk at that, "My ' dear sir." said a lady friend of ours to A gen- j tleinan, "you talk to us ladies as if we were j fools, and you 'hiuk we want you to do it; I have just overheard vou talking very sen sibly to another gentleman, and now you turn around to me and begin to talk non sense." She was fully as frank, perhaps, as she wa- polite; but what she said was a very excellent hint. Small talk, too, has its own proper times i and places. The public lecture, for instance, ' is not a proper place ; and at the most deli- j cite air in an opera, is hardly a proper time j to indulee it. But in its place and tiuie it is pleasing and appropriate ; and. for oar own part, an hour of small talk with an in telligent woman is decidedly preferable to many other forms of amusement. —Xcic Y;rk AV. nng_ (JaztU^ HOME AFTER BUSINESS HOURS. The road aioug which the man of busi ness travels iu pursuit of competence or wealth is not a macadamized one, nor does j it ordinarily lead through pleasant seenes j and by well springs of delight. On the con- : trarv, it is a rouch and rugged path, beset j witii "wait-a-bit thorns, and full of pitfalls, which can only be avoided by the watchful care of circumspection. After every davs journey over this worse than rough turnpike road, the wayfarer needs something more j than rest; he requires solace, and he de serves it- He is weary of the dull prose of life, and athirst for the poetry. Happy Is the bu-iness man who can find that solace and poetry at home. Warm greetings from loving hearts, fond glances from bright eyes, and welcome shouts of children, the many thousand little arrangements for comfort and enjoyment that silently tell of thought ful and expectant love, the gentle ministra tions that disencumber us into an old and easy scat before we are aware of it; these j and like tokens of affection and sympathy constitute the poetry which reconciles us to the prose of life. Think of this, ye wives and danghters of business men! Think of the toils, the anxieties, the mortification and wear that fathers undergo to secure for you comfortable homes, and compensate them for their trials by making them happy by their own fire sides. ONE of the most forcible and truthful des criptions of the irrepressible conflict in America, lietween Freedom and Slavery, is contained iu a speech recently delivered by John Bright, at a dinner given to William Lloyd Garrison, in London. The distin guished English orator said: Spite of all that persecution could do, opinion grew —in the North in favor of free dom. but the South in favor of a most dev ilish delusion : that slavery was a Divine in stitution. The moment that idea took pos session of the South, war became inevitable. Neither fact, nor argument, nor counsel, nor philosophy, nor religion could by any possibility affect the discussion of the ques tion when once the church teachers of the South had fallen into that snare, and had taught their people that slavery was a Di vine institution, because then they began to clintr to it on other and different grounds, and said: "evil, be thou my good." Thus we had light set against darkness, freedom again-t bondage, good against evil, and, if yon like it, heaven against hell; and unless there was souie stupendous mirical greater than any on reeord even tn the inspired writings, it was impossible that the war should not spring out of this state of things. Then too, tli political slaveholders, that dreadful brothei hood in whom al! turbulent pas-ions were let loose, the moment they found the Presidential elections of IgfiO ga ins adversely to them, took up arms to sus tain their hateful system, and then came the earthquake which had been -o often foretold, so often menaced, aud so often postponed, and the ground reeled under the whole na tion during the four years of agony, and then | at !a>t, when the smoke of the battle-field j cleared away, the horrid shape which had j east its shadow over a whole continent had i vanished and was gone forever. MA. TODD, of Actalon. when the Act was ; put in force for writing the name at length | untaxed carts instead of "Amos Tood, Ac- ; ton, a taxed cart," caused the following j anagram to be inscribed —"A most odd .Vet j oil a taxed cart." Gii.vrm'DK for kindness showu. acknowl ment for favors received, are unerring marks of good breeding, aud indications of Christian character. RATES OF ADVERTISING. All advertisements for lens than 3 months 10 cents per line fur each insertion. Special notices onebalf additional. All repletions of Associa tion, commnnications of a limited or individual intorets and notices of marriages and deaths, ex ceeding five lines, 10 cts. per line. All legal noti ces of every kind, and all Orphans' Court and other Judicial soles, are required oy law to be pub . lishcd in both papers. Editorial Notices 15 cents per line. All Advertising due after first insertion . A liberal discount made to yearly adrertizers. 3 months. 8 months. 1 year One square > 4.50 t 8.00 $lO.OO Two squares........ 8.00 9.00 18.00 Three squres ~ 3.00 12.00 20.00 One-fourth column 14.00 20.00 35.00 Half column 18.00 25.00 45.00 j One column 30.00 45.00 80.05 LITERARY LADIES. The New York correspondent of the Mo bile Eo ning Nttc* says of literary ladies : Let me name a few of these that shine in New York. First, there is Kate Field, who though a Southerner by birth, isnow claim ed exclusively by the North. Miss Field's age is about thirty-seven. She is one of the most brilliant writers on the American j press, and, like most female literateurs, has ! a very decided will of her own. Mrs. Lu cia Gilbert Calhoun, who alternates with ; Miss Field on the Tribune, is a native of j Massachusetts. Mrs. Calhoun is a widow, and alxiut twenty-two years old. Her pen sparkles with fire and wit, and she is one of the most popular society ladies in New York. Alice Carey, the poetess and authoress, is in her forty-seventh year. Miss Carey is a native of Ohio, but has resided in New York since 1850. Her sister Phoebe, also a poetess of considerable merit, is five years her junior. Both sisters live in a handsome home in Nineteenth street. They came to New York quite poor, but are now very well off. Literature has been a profitable field to them. Olive Logan is another star in the female galaxy. She has been on the stage, and is one of the best light comedy actresses living. For some years past she has appeared before the public only as a wri ter. Her style is jaunty and humorous. She has dramatized some successful plays, and always has ao much literary work on her hands as she can attend to. Her father I was a popular comedian, and she Is related 'to Gen. Logan, ot Illinois. "Jennie j .Tune," whose noni de plume is familiar to all new-paper readers, is one of the incst j industrious writers in America. Jennie is | the wife of Mr. Oakley, managing editor ot :he World. She edits Demorest's fashion ! able magazine, contributes weekly to a Phil- I udelphia paper, and, according _to rumor, j makes a mint of money by writing "mani ! fold" fashion letters for twenty or thirty j newspapers. All these ladies move in the best eircles, and not only that, but their so ciety is courted. TAKING A DISLIKE. —An ill-natured fel low quarreled with his sweetheart on the day they were to be married. After the cere mony had begun, and he was asked, "Do you take this woman to be your wedded wife," Ac., he replied, "No!" "What's your reason?" asked the minister "I've taken a dislike to her, and that's enough," was the surley reply. The parties retired—the bride in tears— and, after much persuasion, the groom was induced to have the ceremony proceed. It . was now the lady's turn, and when the min ister asked her the all-important question, | " No!" repled she resolutely; '' I've taken j a dislike to him." The groom, admiring her spunk, made the matter up with her as soon as possible, and a third time they presented themselves before the minister. He began the ceremony by asking the usual questions, which were satisfactorily answered this time. But to the | astonishment of the party his reverence con i tiouod. " Well, I'm glad to bear that you are willing to take each other for husband 1 and wife, for it's a good thing to be of for | giving tempers. You can nowgo and get married where you will —I'll Dot tie the knot, for I've taken a dislike to both of you?" SUNDAY. —Thank God for the Sabbath ! After six weary days of toil and_ care, and business anxiety, how delightful is the com ing of the Sabbath—the wheel of Ixion j ceases in its turning evolutions, and the 1 stone ot Sisyphus paused upon the hill-side, | the back is eased of its burden, the mind is j lifted from the thoughts of daily cares and ; avocations to the contemplation of higher j and nobler themes. The Sabbath is a glo rious institution. To the beast at the plow, to the artezan in his workshop, to the chem ist in his labratory, to the professional man amid his books, and to the author with his pen—comes the Sabbath with a like blessing to each. FOUR GOOD POINTS. —They are essentially necessary for the management of temporal concerns. These are—l. Punctuality. 2. Accuracy. 3. Steadiness. 4. Dispatch. Without the first, time is wasted. Without the second, mistakes, fatal to our own interest and that of others, may be committed. Without the third, nothing can be well j done. Without the fourth, opportunities for good are lost, which it is impossible to re call. SOMEBODY gives the following as the propei reading for many marriage services now a days: Clergyman—Will you take this brown stone front, this carriage and span, these diamonds for thy wedded husband? Ves. Will you take this unpaid milliner's bill, this high waterfall of foreign hair, these affected accomplishments ana feeble consti tution for thy wedded wife? Yes. Then, what man has joined together let the next best man run away with, so that the first divorce court may tear it asunder. HOPE paves the golden way to bliss, and cheerfulness is the lamp that lights the beauteous walk. THE proudest man, as well as the great est, will stoop to a flower. THE best capital to begin life with is a capital wife. THE pleasure of doing good is the only one that never wears out. THE "light of other days" isnow suppos ed to have been a tallow candle. IT is a miserable thing to live in suspense; it is the life of a spider. THE richer a man makes his food, the poorer he makes his appetite! A CRIPPLE upon the right road will beat a racer upon the wrong. WAIT for others to advance your interests, aud you will wait until they arc not worth advancing. No one has ever been so good and so great or has been raised so high, as to be above the reach of troubles. EMERSON finely says: 'The poor are only they who feel poor, and poverty consists ; only in feeling poor. "lean t find bread for iny family," -aid ' a lazy fellow in company. "Nor I, replied an industrious miller; "I'm obliged to ; work for it." j THE man that forgets a good deal that lias | happened, has a better memory than he who remembers a great deal that never hap ! pened. AN insurance agent, urging a citizen to I get his life insured, said: "Get your life insured for ten thousand, and then, if you die next week, the widdcr's heart will sing I for joy."