THE CAMBRIA FREEMAN
,S rl B' 1 Slltl KVKKY f'KIUAl JIOKM(i
;t Ebensburg, Pa., by H. A. McPike.
rmrtnteed Circulation
1 . ...... U 1 S" f ,
J.OGS
1p -rii.-
MATCH IT?
one year. can in auvance l.fiO
If nin pM within 3 mos. 1.7)
" if not !"d within 6 mos. 2.i)
. if not p'il within year.. 2.-5
rcon- re-Ming nuTi(it me county
fpnt
litional pur year win oe charged to
r1r r
will the above terms be de-
. I ... thiNi wlui don't consult thti
cm
ir:' ..r.-it-i hv psinir in advance must not
,: '".''. he placed ('ii tin- sum'? footing a those
, i tiit- fact he distinctly understood
mii,' forward.
io
1"
i... f.ir nir paper noiorc you stop it. If
. .,, mi'i.t. None but sea la wags do ot
1 ' ' li.m't I'O a a -nlawiiif-lile'a too short
STILL LATER AND BETTER!
NEW SPRING- GOODS
in ;ki:at piioi usion t
FREIOKOFFGHEAP STOKE:
;r .':, -.."".' '"! ""J '" -'l to the comimj PrcM.lvutial dtion in hopes f
1,;,h !,f ' '"" -'' ""''''" I"' c,ch,, lr,l to remain in the mtrcnntih
' - VVr i7 "s "i,7,rr,lf,t attention h,t sat),,,! ,,j rf ., fri(),,U
,t the V".'Ai (ie,tcrall'i icith ALL KIXD C' (iOODS
A.T 3RICES SO LOW
that xoxi: cax on dakh vomvktk with him.
r. , . ,riil iihm'js timl (txU rJcj'uit stock of ereritliiwj to be f on ml in a rjaura
start, cutup, iinj a complete hue. of
ISI GOODS, DRESS GOODS, HOTIOfiS, HITS, MPS,
Bools, Shoes, Groceres Hardware, Tinvare,
Glassware, ffooJenw are, Cigars, Toliacco, Canuefl Goofls, k, k
i. Fiori:. COWS MKAI., F1SIT. SALT
i.l.A-S. I I T I V, BIll'SIU'.S, lillOOJlS.
lJlItJ)'S PATETST CORN fSIIlIT.lCTi, i
i-bii- tn7 V o!d at the remarkable loir price of CO cent each. Also for sale, the !
BEST AND QUICKEST BUTTER-PRODUCING CHURN EVER INVENTED, i
;? 1 ire' incrp.i?! of tmsine.?Jia!i necessitate.! the enlarm-ment or my .tore-room anil the eree- i
, - ! m :i 1 ! it i. .n;i 1 :ireroom. anil Ptlll my e.tlU?hment Is literally crowilo.l with choice (tods anfl i
n..4rrKer atttr haraain. vtill tuMiiit ile! ennined I o accommodate all who cmne, ami especially '
p. r r ' trnm the c iunlry. to whe n the highest rice? in trade will hi- jiaid tor all kind ot produce, ;
,r. iffti my larc and commotlioiis ta le for the tree u?e of all who in:iy wish to put up i
I L.iukful lor pa?t tavors ami hopulo pvmv fu'i-r ones I remain as ever.
Utah Street, lllipnubare. warfh, I1SO.
DONT, GENTLEMEN, DON'T
TJ,XJY STITCH OTT
WEARING APPAREL!
OR .V J-irS i I ARTICLE OF
CBMT'8 UnmSHtHO GOOOSt
rxTiL vor iiavi: si:i;x the i.mmi:nk stock of
WARM-WEATHER CLOTHING,
HATS,
JUST RECEIVED AT THE
loung America
Corner Eleventh Avenue and Eleventh Street,
:;r. ri:oiKH . r i;s of which makf. it tiikik con
stant AIM TO
KEEP A STOCK andSELL AT P11ICES
WIIK II FEW t AX IH I, AXI) XOSK C.tX KXt'I.t.
v.. -r. ,.. ..;t . i.,n-t invect one ccr.t iuSI'lilMlor SfMMKK '!. ITHIN'I. irKN'T'S FT'K
Mii I N ' i (.; u s. jii .. .. .. until you have .n'en what they ca n do ior you at the
Youncr America
- i ). lltli Avenue ati.l lltH Streel, Altonr, I'm.
siz havj: .jijjst opknijd
NEW MILLINERY
.And ITniicy troods St.ove
AT 281 MAIN ST., JOHNSTOWN, PA.
'"I rrvp,.r,riiMr in lie tlie Ijillei of niiitrl ami niljoininir ronntles to (tlve
a eiil I. a n e intend at nil I lines to Keep n full line ol
Tn i , - . . m m. k n rt n r rv m. T f.
inllYIIVILU AU UiN
Laces, Embroideries, Trimmings, Ribbons,
LACK CRAPES, SILKS, Silk Velvets, Ornaments,
All kinds oi' I-Tnir Goods, &c, ttc, '
" I-m r !:if vns and ltr.s r TKXTI'RES which we will ?ell at price" that cannot fail to
ht iicht ail who lav.ir us with tlieir custom. Also,
1utic; nnl Iolisliol lJfc-tYIVIIiH ol" fill sios.l
the !;l
t itvlc and at .pilar
in i'on-tant attendance
v vriil he
ul the
'anI conx A
1 he
onlr trtoiir F'.raneh St
ir si,
I in Altoona that our old
"ltc an 1 vri
r'e.l Ho-k c.,ii-itin ol
iIS, HA 1
ell's r . Jtc . which
HtT T-7T7- "7
CASH DF.AI.Ki: IN ALL KIND OF
HEATING and COOKING STOVES
and mantfa(;ti;i:i;ii or
"rw-
U X ami SHEET-IRON
Uov ll-vntli TVao., Alloonn,
i irw.T ri.lt K . Tilt. till. Koonna, . .... ...-..
"" prnmutl, , ..ii.iariorilT attended to. VJ-2V7. tf.J
mtt HOLCic
TIM-; NFAV STOIli: IJITI.DINC. OF
TEITELB AXJM, Carrolltown, Pa.,
has jt st v.v.ks ii'km;ii avith a srr.F.NiTi stiwk of
its' o -sum m er goods,
- ' ': 'A :t .'i-.n i-now extended I t the proprietor to every reader of the Khkkm it to ca! and
' , . ' - ri-een.. , , ,,. ,;,,,.;: ..ual.ti.-. and learn the unnri.sMde price- which are
l -t -i ;..r.e,lt ,.., ,..,.lv ,r -ael .v tli..-e who liuv their ifoods Iroui me. 11. e re.t-on I
: ''! i- that I (,.5i t niv -entire s.-k" lor cash and Intend to -ell f..reh .r itx equivalent.
-t ,. r I repare.1 t., i.,ke .'.ui.-k sale. at smaUvr proht than any oilier merchant In t .imhria
' ' t.ike n,v w.,rd lor this however, hut come and sec lor yourselves.
:,t" -n. May 21. lS0.-tf. TEITI I IIU H.
ADVERTISERS
s-r..
-v., " ' 'jTH- ri,n learn the exact cot of
AIiVEK'IlSINti in Amen-as
' 'rioo-psne I'amphlst, 10f.
ill "WfttitiY
H. A, McPIKE, Editor and Publisher.
(VOLUME XIV.
by tlu; bushel and barrel, DRL'G's, "V MLS
tve. I have likewise acM.-d to my stock
X. Filial OilOFF.
CAS,
Clothing House,
Clotliitip; "House.
I KIIYIIYILlU NMIJD,
.rice will he received every d.iy. and a first-cla-
to wait on cu-toiiier-1. A cordial invitation it ex-
cn.'s j:i:axcii stoiik,
"o. 2SI .tlaln Street, JnhnMoii n.
.re In .Tohii.fown, hut It should not he lorotten
- et:ihlished Store I at l !o, l;.levci'tli A'c.-iii;.
IlliVliOIIHS, t Alrr.l. t.l.M 1 ,,om,-.
we ?ell at price-" mat cannot nr Mir.i-jni km
April V.i. ISSi.-tf. )
T - Tl A rL U 1 U-
.
WAKE,
the Font t
ft777K -
V t I KKY, Auifust
nd eene to nircnts.
Ad Ire-s I-. U. 11. Jv-
Auifusta, Maine.
a. i j . u
9r e
Clothing.
There is in Philadelphia
a clothing-house that began
a good many years ago to
do a peculiar business. It
marked goods in plain fig
ures, and described them in
plain letters ; its prices were
absolute, its descriptions
were true. People had full
knowledge of what they
were buying there, and yet
if afterward they were sorry
they had bought, they could
go back the next day and
exchange for something else,
or, if they liked, get their
money back. It was a safe
place to get clothes ; it was
a safe place to leave money.
People liked that house.
It grew, and grew, and
grew, until it became a
great house. To-day it is
the largest clothing-house
anywhere ; and it keeps up
the old practices : no secrets
about what its clothes are
made of, one price, and
the money back if the buy
er wants it. Of course, it
uses all grades of cloths
that are worth using, and
makes all grades of cloth
ing that are worth making;
for it serves all sorts of peo
ple. Those at all familiar with
Philadelphia already know
that we are speaking of
Oak Hall, the original of
the Wanamaker Stores.
There has been great im
provement in ready-made
I clothing in nineteen years ;
i and Oak Hall has taken
the lead equally in econ
i omy, reliability, and rapid
; ity of production ; in the
quality of finished work ;
and in the development of
a method of business hav
ing for its first object the
satisfaction of customers.
It is wortli your while to
know that you, whoever and
wherever you are, can get
your clothing to better ad
vantage there than any
where else. If too far
away to go, write. You
will receive in reply samples
of cloths, and prices of
ready-made suits from them,
with a diagram and instruc
tions for measuring. The
i &
rest is plain.
Wanamaker 8c Brown,
Oak Hall,
Sixth and Market streets,
Philadelphia, Ta.
J. W.SH&RB&UGH&RRO.,
-ii.ait:i;s tn-
Dry Groocls,
Iaticy Groocls,
CLOTHING-,
GROCERIES, &c
CAIUIOLLTOWX, PA.
NEW GOODS HECEIVD WEEKLY
AXI AI.WAVS SOI.n AT TIIK
VERY LOWEST PRICES.
- AMI 1AII IOR t Ot TRY PRO.
Il E it lien .nol, are not lelrel.
4. . SHAIJRAUGW A: RRO.
C'arrclltown. March 19 lSi.-tr.
MT,. BUr'KLKY.
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.
AL.l t M'A, 1'A.
-office on 14th Street, tctweeu loth and nth
Avenues. fi-T.-tf.
1' W. DICK. TTORNKT-T L-AW,Kb-
Fhenshurar, Pa. Office in front room orT
J. Lloyd's new huildinir. Centre street. All man
ner of lenal business attended t satisfaetorily,
and oolleetlons aspecislty. 10-14,-tf
'HI is a freeman whom the truth makes free, and all are slaves beside.
EBENSBURG, PA., FRIDAY, JULY 9. 1SS0.
Written lor the Frkkmax.J
THE XOBI.F.ST MAX OF ALL.
By the city's feet flows onward
Mississippi, broad and trrand :
Miifhty timbers, floating downward.
Rafts, hewn out by woodman's band.
II.
Rests the mighty lenirth ol timber
At the city's quiet leet ;
Flows the rircr on In slumber
Currents eddy, strong and deep,
in.
Sporting or. the floating timbers,
See yon boy, so full ol glee ;
Cilide his hours in golden numbers
Lile to him is minstrelsy.
IV.
Uy the raft dark flows the river
Hears the current deep and strong ;
Little whirlpools, forming over,
Waitr.ing as they glide along.
v.
Hark ! that shout from fifty voices '.
See! the boy will surely drown I
For the driving eddies seize him.
And vindictive drag him down.
VI.
Stand the raftsmen, mute and paling.
While the boy sinks 'ncath the tide ;
Every heart of courage tailing
Every soul seems petrified.
VII.
Hut a laborer near is toiling
In his coarse and soiled attire;
Though his time was spent In moiling.
In his soul burned heavenly flro.
VIII.
Heaven, the boy Is drowning ! sinking !
Not helping hand to save I
Little is a mother thinking
That her child has lound a grave.
IX.
Not a moment's time to ponder
Ere be plunired Into the deep !
Five times now the boy is under j
Surely now in death he'll sleep! .
x. j
Cumbered in his wet apparel, j
See the stalwart swimmer cleave,
Through the sweeping, rolling current. j
Like a dolphin through the wave.
xi. !
Where the boy's last breath up-bubbled, 1
Rising from the silent deep:
There tbe gallant swimmer struggled I
With a strong, o'crnuisterlng sweep. I
XII. ,
And down, down into the river 1
To the cool and silent bed
Comes he up again, or ncvci ? j
Comes he up but with the dead
xiii. ;
Lo ! at length far down the current, ;
There appears a human head ;
"Tis the iMver Willi his burthen.
Hut the youthlul life is tied. :
xiv.
Slow and heavily he preses
Through the turbid, rolling wave; j
Slow : so slow the minute passes ! j
Yet around him yawns the grave t
xv. '
Ha : at last the shore he's gaining
With his burthen limp and still: j
Every eye on him is straining i
Hearts with anxious feelings thrill. i
XVI.
Heavy garments weigh upon htm, !
Swift the deadly current sweeps. :
All the lonely waters 'round him !
Yet his shoreward course he keeps. j
XVII.
Calmly stepped he from the river,
Calmly laid his burthen down ; j
Nobler deed was noted never
In the annals of renown ! I
xvin. ;
Hack he's gone to patient moiling j
Hack to labor all the dav ;
Ne'er impatient, ne'er recoiling
From the sweat, and dust, and clay.
XIX.
Sumo men could be raised no higher
Did ye scat them on a throne.
For their lofty souls aspire
To things higher than a crown,
xx.
Though in clothes beclayed with labor,
Though unknown to high renown,
Like the Man who Jtood on Tabor,
Stand they high 'hove earthly Irown.
XXI.
Yes, a workingman a stranger.
One who toiled for daily bread,
And was cradled in a manger.
Without n place to lay his head :
Scorned he all earth's hosts and treasures,
I'rolfcred by the evil one !
Kingdoms, powers, all earth's pleasures
All the splendor 'ncath the sun
"Were accounted less than bubbles,
Less than ripples on the wave ;
For by death, through tribulation.
Humble souls He came to save !
Came He not august and mighty,
Olittering as a monarch grand ;
But, behold Him, meek and lowly.
Followed by an bumble band.
XXII.
So, toll on, thou son of labor.
For thou hast a mighty Friend ;
If thou patient be, and sober,
Joy will greet thee at the end.
Lor.ETTO, .Tunc, ISSo. A. I). H.
Eveky-Day IIekoism. One of the Life
.Savins Stations on the California coast has
been officially named the "Map;ry Geddes."
A little Rill of that name in San Antonio,
aed nine years, seeinp a playmate tall in the
mill-race, leaped in with reatskiil and cool
ness and after a desperate .druggie succeed
ed in swimming with her ashore.
Another little girl, a year younger, in one
of the N;w England towns, sprang into the
river a few weeks ago, and rescued her baby
brother from drowning, carrying him in her j
arms through the swift current, which reach- I
ed her chin. j
Now, it was a graceful act of recognition ,
to real heroism for the Government to give j
the name of little Mangy Cieddes to a Life- '
Saving Station, and it is right that these lit- i
tie heroines should be held up as examples '
of unselfish devotion to other girls and boys: I
always provided that the right lesson is j
drawn from the story. j
Not many men, and very few children, ever 1
have the chance to save another life at the
risk of their own. Such supreme opportuni
ties come but seldom. Uut every child should
remember that just as much unselfishness,
devotion and cool presence, of mind can be
shown in the little incessant matters of every
day as go to make up some one great heroic
th'"d.
In (iod's eye. it is not the size nor the dra
matic effect of the action which counts, but
its motive.
Many a young girl patiently bearing for
years the cares of a disorganized household,
or the peevishness of an invalid parent, or
brother or sister; many a boy, bringing in
domitable cheerfulness and love to the help
of his tired mother, is entitled to more admi
ration and respect, and is just as heroic, as
if in a spasmodic passion of courage they
had momentarily facd death for those they
loved.
LOST AXD FOUND.
My father w:as a brewer in a very large way
of business in Newport, Isle of Wight, and
of course a man particularly well known in
that small country town. The events now
related happened soon after the old French
war, and long before the establishment of
lailways, money order postoftices, the tele
graph, and other modern conveniences.
Communication by mail was then under very
heavy postage, and all communications and
packages of above a certain weight had to be
sent as "parcels" by the coaches. Hence
bankers, goldsmiths and others who were in
the habit of sending valuable packages, when
they could not find a responsible person will
ing to take charge of such articles, sent such
parcels by private hands in the luggage of
passengers, rather than go to the expense of
carriage and run the risk of loss by the guard.
My father had repeatedly carried bankers'"
parcels containing large sums from Newport
to London and brought back similar parcels
in return ; but fearing any further responsi
bility, he at length declined all such future
commissions except those from his own i ner, take this key and open the trunk. I
bankers, and those he could not well refuse, j do not know whether the parcel is there or
His business called him a good deal to Lon- ! not; all I know is that I put it there, but tin
don, and as he' was methodical and orderly he I der protest at the time."
got his full address engraved on a heavy
brass plate, which was firmly riveted to the
end of his black leathern portmanteau
This was in the days of bank of England
one ponnd notes and other paper money,
and these securities answered instead of spe
cie with the eountry banks, so that there was
a constant passage and exchange of money
parcels between the country banks and their
London agencies. On the occasion in ques
tion, a money parcel had been duly taken to
London and delivered, and the recipents in
quired when the party (my father) was to
return, in order that they might remit the
usual reply parcel. The answer was that his
stay was uncertain, and he begged that the
bankers would if possible find another mes
senger. Hut just as my father had all his
lugoage packed except the black leathern
portmanteau, a clerk arrived from the bank
ing house with an ominously large parcel,
whose square foldings of strong paper and
well sealed stringbands conveyed the un
pleasant idea that it was one of more than
ordinary value. At first the parcel was alto
gether declined and it was not until the clerk
bad assured the intended carrier that it had
already been advised to the Newport bank
ers as sent by him, that it was. accepted, and
thrust into the portmanteau. Meanwhile the
coach was delayed, the coachman and guard
remonstrating loudly and my father was fi
nally hurried inside the coach, having in the
first place desired the "boots" of the inn to
deposit the portmanteau in the boot of the
coach, w hich, being under the feet of the
coachman, was considered the safest place.
The e!ch arrived at Portsmouth, whence
the sailing packet transferred the passengers
to;the Isle ot Wight across the Solent. There
were at that time no steamboats, and when
the wind and tide were contrary, the passage,
although only of live miles, often took tiom
two to three hours to accomplish. Great in
deed was the dismay when, on unloading the
coach, the black leathern portmanteau could
not be found. The coachman and guard
were strictly interrogated, but to no purpose.
All that could be ascertained with certainty
from the coachman and box-seat passenger
both of whom were above suspicion was
that either one or the other of them had their
feet on the cover of the boot the whole night,
anl that no singie article had been removed,
nor had the boot been opened once.
Clearly, then, the only thing to be done
was to write to the London bankers, and to
the inn-keeper, with a strict charge to find
out from the "boots" what he had done with
the portmanteau, and to await events. On
examination the "boots" declared that he
had put the gentleman's portmanteau into
the coach, as he had done many times before,
and that he had at the same time attended to
the rest of the luggage The reply of the
London bankers was that every inquiry pos
sible had been made without discovery, and
that the parcel contained ten thousand pounds
of Hank of England notes, payment of which
had been stopped.
This was a pleasant story to go to the
country bank with, and as it was not a very
large concern, the loss (should loss occur)
would be almost ruinous. My father met the
partners and stated the facts. Some pro
posed advertising, but as the name and ad
dress in full was on the portmanteau and as
the owner was so well known as a public
man, it was thought best to wait and see
what might turn up; all parties acquainted
with the facts being strictly charged in the j
meantime to keep the matter absolutely se
cret, and that nothing whatever should be
said outside. In spite of all this, my father
felt that he was in a most disagieeable posi
tion, especially when the rumor went around
every gossiping tea-table in the town that
Mr. had been intrusted with a parcel
containing ten thousand pounds, which, not
being accountable for. he had made away
with.
Things went on in this way for some weeks
when one night after all had retired my
father was startled by a violent knocking at i
his front door, and on his opening his bed-
room window, which was almost directly j
above the door, and haiiing the intruder, he
was answered by the welcome shout : "Is
that you Mr. , and have you lost a port
manteau ? I have one here in my hand with
your name upon it. and as the tide will only
serve half an hour longer, and my vessel
must soon be under weigh, I ventured to
awaken you."
"Have you anyone with yon?" inquired
my father.
"Yes," replied the man who was the mas
ter of a coasting schooner ; "my cabin boy."
"Well, tell him," said my father, "to go
back to the schooner, and let the hands take
her down the river, and wait for you at
Cowes. You shall join her to-morrow.
Meantime, I will pay all charges."
"Very well," said the captain. "Come
down and take in the portmanteau, and I
will see you in the morning."
"No : that will not do at all," was the re
ply. "You must come with me at once : and
don't let the portmanteau out of your hand
for a minute it is of more value than you
think: and I will be down directly."
He dressed and came down, and took the
captain and his load away to the banker's
house ; knocked up all hands, and sent out
for the other partners, before he would al
low a word of explanation to be said. When
all were assembled :
"Now, ' said my father to the captain,
"tell these gentlemen just how you became
possessed of the portmanteau; and by all
means assure them that my hands have never
touched it since it came into your posses-
l J I i H . I f f i
SI.50 and
sion," which the captain at once assured
them was the case.
The captain's story was, that while lying
in the Thames at London, waiting for a re
turn coasting freight, he had visited all the
warehouses where he was likely to fine any
goods for the Isle of Wight, when one of the
warehousemen said :
"Isle of Wight do you know the place,
and also Newport?"
The captain replied that he knew both,
and almost every man in the town.
"Well, then you may know this man," and
tho black leathern portmanteau was pro
duced. "Oh, yes," said the captain- "I know him
well, and have goods for him on board the
schooner. I will take charge, and pay any
thing there may be for warehousing."
The warehouseman made a small charge,
said he did not know how the trunk came
there, but that he was glad to be rid of it ;
and the captain carried it off, and in due
time it arrived at its proper destination, as
described.
"Now." said mv father to the senior nart-
- i -
The portmanteau was opened, and the
parcel found with all its seals intact. The
captain was dismissed for the night, with a
charge to call at the bank the next day, and
father returned to his bed the happiest man
in the world.
The next day. in purely self-defence, the
story had to be told all around the town, so
as to silence the gossipprrs. The captain
called at the bank the next day and received
as a reward a sum beyond his expectations,
and which found the schooner a new suit of
sails.
How the portmanteau came to be trans
ferred from the boot of the coach to the
w alehouse was never explained, which I
consider not the least curious feature of the
story. No one seemed to know anything
about it, nor indeed were many inquiries
made.
j THE DRUMMER ROY.
! One cold December morning about eighty
years ago, a party of tourists were crossing
j the Alps and a pretty large party, too, fur
: there were several thousands of them togcth
! er. Some were riding, some walking, and
j most of them had knapsacks on their slioul
j ders, like many Alpine tourists nowadays.
! Hut instead of walking-sticks they carried
: muskets and bayonets, and dragged along
j with them some fifty or sixty cannon,
j In fact, these tourists were no'hing less
i than a French army ; and a very hard time of
, it they seemed to be having. Trying work,
certainly, even for the strongest man, to
: wade fur miles through knee-deep snciw in
j this bitter frost and biting wind, along these
narrow, slippery mountain-paths, with pre
cipices hundreds of feet deep all round. The
. soldiers looked thin and heavy-eyed for want
of food and sleep, and the poor horses that
i were dragging the heavy guns stumbled at
' every step.
Hut there was one among them who seem
ed quite to enjoy the rough marching, and
tramped along through the deep snow and
cold, gray mist, through which the great
j mountain peaks overhead loomed like shad
: owy giants as merrily as if he were going to
: a picnic. This was a little drummer-boy of
10 years old, whose fresh, rosy face looked
very bright and pretty among the grim, scar
red visages of the old soldiers. When the
j cutting wind whirled a shower of snow in his
face he dashed it away with a cheery laugh,
and awoke all the echoes with the lively rat-
tie of his drum, till it seemed as if the huge
black rocks around were all singing in cho
' rus.
"Hravo, Petit Tambour!" (little drum
. mer) cried a tall man in a shabby gray cloak,
; who was marching at the head of the line,
: with a long pole in his hand, and striking it
into the snow every now and then to see how
dee-it was. "Hravo, Pierre, my boy ! With
1 such music as that one could inarch all the
i
; way lo Moscow."
J The boy smiled, and raised his hand to his
j cap in salute, for this rough-looking man
; was no other than the General himself,
"Fighting Macdonald," one of the bravest
j soldiers in France, of whom his men used to
! sav that one sight of his face in battle was
! worth a whole regiment.
; "Long live our General," shouted a hoarse
voice, and the cheer, flying lrom mouth to
I mouth, rolled along the silent mountains like
J a peal of distant thunder,
i Hut its vcho had hardly died away when
the silence was again broken by another
sound of a very different kind a strange un
canny sort of a whispering far away up the
great white mountain side. Moment by mo
ment it grew louder and harsher, till at
length it swelled into a deep, hoarse roar.
"On your faces, lads I" roared th General;
"it's an avalanche !"
Hut, before his men had time to obey, the
ruin was upon them Down thundered the
great mass of snow, sweeping the narrow
ledge-path with a water-fall, and crashing
down alorg with it came heaps of stones and
loose earth, and uprooted bushes, and great
blocks of cold blue ice. For a moment all
was dark as night ; and when the rush had
passed, many of the brave fellows who had
been standing on the path were nowhere to
be seen. They had been carried down over
the .precipice, and either killed or buried
alive in the snow.
Hut the first thought of their conn ades was
not for them. When it was seen what had
happened one civ arose from eveiy mouth.
"Where's ourTierre? Where's our little
drummer ?"
Where, indeed? Look which way they
would, nothing was to be seen of their poor
little favorite, and, when they shouted his
name, thete was no answer. Then there
broke forth a terrible cry of grief, and many
a haul old soldier w ho had looked without
flinching at a line of leveled muskets, felt the
tears start into his eyes at the thought thai
that bright face would never be seen among
them again.
But all at once, far below them, out of the
shadow of the black unknown gulf that lay
between those tremendous rocks, nroe the
faint roll of a drum, beating the charge.
The so'.diers started and bent eagerly for
ward to listen ; then up went a shout that
shook the air. .
"He's alive, comrades I our Pierre's alive,
after all !"
"And beating hi3 drum still, like a brave
I lad ! He wanted to have the old music to
the last !"
"But we in list save him, lads, or he'll freeze
to death down there. He must be saved '."
' "He shall be '." broke in a deep voice from
behind, and the General himself was seen
-My
II 111 114
J 1 2 X'XC
M.rn
postage per year. In advance.
NUMBER 24.
standing on the brink of the precipice,
throwing off his cloak.
"No, do, General 1" cried the grenadiers
with one voice ; "you musn't run such a risk
as that. Let one of us go instead ; your life
is worth more than all of ours put together."
"My soldiers are my children." answered
Macdonald quietly, "and no father grudges
his own life to save his son."
The soldiers knew better than to make any
more objections. They obeyed in silence,
and the General was swinging in mid-air,
down, down, till he vanished at last into the
darkness of the cold, black depth below.
Then every man drew a long breath, and
all eyes were strained to watch for the first
sign of his appearance, for they knew well
that he never would come back without the
boy, and that the chance was terribly against
him.
Meanwhile Macdonald, having landed safe
ly at the foot of the precipice, was looking
anxiously around in search of Pierre ; butthe
leatinp. of the drum had ceased, and he had
nothing to guide him.
"Pierre !' shouted he, at the top of his
voice, "where are you, my boy !"
"Here, General !" answered a weak voice,
so faint that he conld barely distinguish it.
And there, sure enough, was the little fel
low's curly head half buried in a mound of
snow, which alone had saved him from being
dashed to pieces asrainst the rocks as he fell.
J Macdonald made for him at once; and al
J though he sank waist-deep at every step,
I reached the spot at last.
"AH right now, my brave boy," said the
General cheerily. "Put your arms round my
neck and hold tight; we'll have you out of i
this in a minute."
The child tried to obey, but his stiffened
fingers had lost all their strength ; and even
when Macdonald himself clasped the tiny
arms about his neck their hold gave way di
rectly. What was to be done? A few minutes
more, and the numbing colds of that dismal
place would make the rescuer as powerless
as him whom be came to rescue. Hut Gen.
Macdonald was-not the man to be so easily
beaten. Tearing off his sash and knotting
one end of it to the rope he bound Pierre and
himself firmly together with the-other, and
then cave the signal to draw up.
And when the two came swinging up into
the daylight once more, and the soldiers saw
their pet still alive and unhurt, cheer upon
cheer rang out, rolling far back along the
line, till the very mountains themselves
seemed to be rejoicing.
"We've been under fire and snow togeth
er," said Macdonald, chafing tbe boy's cold
hands tenderly, "and nothing shall part us
two after this, so long as we both live."
And the General kept his word. Years la
ter, when tne great wars were all over, there
might Vie st.t.n walking in the garden of a
quiet country house in the south of France a
stooping, white-haired old man, who had
once been the famous Marshal Macdonald;
and he leaned for support upon the arm of a
tall, black-mustached, soldier-like fellow,
who bad once been little Pierre, the drum
mer. Western Cuttotic.
u:ary hum ex.
Nothing is more reprehensible and thor
oughly wrong than the idea that a woman
fulfills her duty by doing an amount of work
that is far beyond her strengt li. She not only
does not fulfill her duty, but she signally
fails in it, but t lie failure is truly deplorable.
There can Ik- no sadder sight than that of a
broken down, overworked wife and mother
a woman who is tired all her life through.
If the woman of the household cannot Vie ac
complished by order, system, and moderate
work, without the necessity of wearing,
heart-breaking toil toil that is never ended
and never oegun without making life a
treadmill of labor, then, for the sake of hu
manity, let the work go on. Better to live
in the midst of disorder than that order
should be purchased at so high a price the
cost of health, strength, happiness, and all
that makes existence endurable. The w
man who spends her life in unnecessary la
bor, is by this very labor unfitted for the
highest duties tif home. She should be the
haven of rest to whic'i both husband and
children turn for peace and refreshment.
She should he the careful adviser ami guide
ot the one, the tender, confident helpmate of
the other. How is it possible for a woman
exhausted in body, as a natural consequence
in mind also, to perform eit her of these offices?
No, it is not possible, the constant strain is
too great. Nature gives way beneath it.
She loses health and spirits and hopefulness
anu more than all her youth the last that a
woman should allow to slip from her ; for,
no matter how old she is in years, she should
be young in heart anil feeling, for the youth
of age is sometimes more attractive than
voutti itself.
To the overworked woman this
gteen old age is out oi question ; oiu age j
conies on her sere and yellow before its time. ;
Her disposition is ruined, her temper soured, j
her very nature is changed by the burden
which, being too heavy to carry, is dragged .
along as long as wearied feet and tired hands I
can do their part. Even her affections are I
blunted, and she becomes merely a machine, j
a woman without the time to train and
guide her children as only a mother can, a
wife without tune to sympathize with and
cheer her husband, a woman so overworked
during the day that when night comes her
sole thought and most intense longing is for
the rest and sleep that very probably will
not come ; and, even it it should, that she is
too tired te enjoy. Better by far let every
thing go unfinished, to live as best she can,
than to entail on herself and family thecurse
of overwork. Sinittry Magazine.
Hours and Minutf.s. Why is one hour
divided into sixty minutes ? and each minute
again into sixty seconds? Why not divide
our time like we do our money, by tens,
counting ten, or fifty or one hundred minutes
to an hour. This question was asked by an
intelligent boy a few days since ; and the
answer given him may both interest and In
struct other young people. The answer is
this : We have sixty divisions on the dials of
our clocks and watches, because the old
Greek astronomer, Hipparclms, who lived in
tho second century before Cluist, accepted
the Babylon ian system of reckoning time,
that system being sexigesimai. The Babylo
nians wete acquainted with the decimal sys
tem ; but for common and practical purposes,
they counted by sossl and sari, the sossos,
representing sixty, and the saros, sixty times,
sixty, is thirty-six hundred. From Hippar
chus that mode of reckoning found its w ay
into the works of Ptolemy, about 1.10 A. D.,
and hence was carried down the stream of
science and civilization, ami found the way
to our dial pl-ites oi our e''vks nn.l wnt-hes.
Aclver-tirsingr It atc(.
Tbelarreand rellaMe frlreulatf'Ti of the Caw
BittA FKtti eommend, It to t h Unmi le eon
deration of drertler. ilvw tarori will I t in
serted at tbe following low ratei :
1 locb. 8 tlrue
t 1M
. 3 ao
. a. oo
e o
, 1- .'10
. .D
. 17 'J"
10.' 0
ri. i
i
f) 00
7.'.
S mnnlbi ....
t m int h...
1 year
8 months ....
1 year
6 months.....
1 year..
i eol'n 6 monthf
4 " 6 months
U 1 year
I " 6 months
1 " 1 year
Administrator" and Executor's Notices
Andi'or's Notices
8 "0
1 M
Stray and similar Notices.
Business Items, first Inser'ton Ijc. per line ; each
subsequent Insertion ftc. r line.
lrT" Kraolut iona or proceeding o f iy rorpfrcfion
or tocirty. mnd romntvmcotiima drit?,ed to tefl altcn
tion to antt mcfter of Itmitrd or individual inlrrettt
must be potdjor a adrrrtiarmmtt,
.ton Irivti of all kind neatly ami fxjditl
outly executed at lowest ITices . lien t J onlora
It,
A YORK UOUXTY KOMAXCE.
The recent death of Paul Kunkle in York,
at the age of 79 years, recalls to mind tho
history of a t raged v w hich at the t ime create
much interest there and in Mary land, and of
which he neaily proved to le a victim. Tho
circumstances, as gathered from his son and
neighbors who have known him for the past
forty years, are as follows :
Alwitit thirty years ago Paul Kunkle ac
companied his brother to Baltimore, wheneo
the latter was to sail to the home of his na
tivity in Germany. Having ?een him off. Mr.
Kunkle started on foot for his home in York,
earning with him an old umbrella. With
liim was a companion, who left him at Cm k
eysville, intendin-j there to take the train
and ride to Glen Rock, his destination, hav
ing become tired of footing it. Kunkle kept
on his way on foot, and at Parkton met a
stranger, with whom a conversation was be.
gun, which finally ended in ai: exchange of
umbrellas, tbe stranger giving a much lietter
one than that which he received. Together
the two men then kept on tlieir way until
York was finally leached, and tbe stranger,
who gave his name as Conrad Winter, er
suaded Kunkle to receive him at iiis home.
Winter remained w ith the Kunkles several
days and had with him a nnnilxT of article?,
which lie endeavored to give or sell to the
family. He offered a pair of ladies' sho?
in exchange for one of Kunkle's shirts and
the bargain leine a ctl one. as tbe shoes
were quite new, it was accepted. He offered
a cap to one of the boys, but. it Ix-ing too
large, was told to keep it, and aNo presented
a handsome snuff-box to one of the children,
which was likewise declined, on the pica
that the child had no use for it. i n the lirst
morning of his arrival lie stated that a mur
der had lieen committed in Maryland, and
that the murderer had not been caught. Soon
after his departure it was learned t hat a mur
der had been committed near Parkton on the
morning on which Kunkle hail Im-ch seen in
the place, and detf tives, who were already
on the trail, traced Kunkle to his home,w heie
the umbrella and the pair of shoes were iden-
I titled as tbe property of a Mrs fooT. tne
I victim. He was at once arrested ami thrown
: in jail at York, where he was kept several
' months, being finally taken to Baltimore.
I Mrs. Kunkle alout that time gave birth to a
i child. Paul Kunkle. under the weight of
I trouble, became insane, or at leat his reason
i was so unsettled that he could not give a !u
! cid explanation of bow the things had come
' into bis possession or from whom he had ou
! tained them. A true biil was found aga!Ht
! him, and several trials were had, which re
! suited in his conviction and sentence to
death. The period of his confinement in tho
Baltimore prison was about ten months, dur
ing which time every effort was made to es
: tablKh his innocence. Acquaintances from
York testified to his uniform gjiod conduct,
but the circumstantial evidence of his being
j in tne vicinity at the fatal time, and the p'
) session of the articles, was too grave to l
i overthrown. Heine a Catholic, the Bishop
! of Philadelphia took great inlere-t in bis
j case, visiting him in his prison at York, and,
; it is undei-tood, at Baltimore also. Finally,
: about eight days before the time fixed for
the execution, his mind liceainc clear, a:i l ho
: was able to explain his h aving Baltimore
with one man and his met ting with t :ie ot In r,
: with whom he exchanged umbrellas, ami
described them both. Olliceis of the law
were put upon the track, and before long
the man with whom he left Baltimore was
found, who, strange to say, shmtly efter
parting with Kunkle, had met with Winter,
and had seen the umbrella, shoes and other
! articles. Winter's appearance was desci ibed,
tallying with that given by Kunl el. and once
more the officers were successful in their
search, Winter betraying binieil by one of
those slight actions which so often lead to
the arrest of ciiniinals when thev feel the
safest.
During all this time Wintei, who was a
blacksmith, had kept in his possession the
stolen snutl-box, and one dav, while at work
i at Ashland, pulled it from his pocket and
handed it to a fellow-workman, who wished
a pinch of its contents. This wot kman dis
covered what the murderer never had. that
, the name of Mrs. Cooper was engraved upon
a silver plate within the box. Being familiar
with the incident, he at once informed an
officer, who made the arrest, and upon trial
Winter was convicted and condemned. Paul
Kunkle was saved !
I'pon the scaffold Conrad Winter confess
ed his guiit, slating that w lien young he bad
been bound to a Mrs. t ico lw in, re-. ding near
Parkton, who had i-omj-iled him to steal
sheep for her benefit. I'pon one of his t-x-peditions
he was captured an 1 sent to tli
penitentiary for his offense, and while thcr
swore his revenge upon his mistress should
: lie death when lie was released. Upon the
; veiling ol the murder he was walking along
the road swinging a light switch, w hen lie
fore him be saw a woman whom he to. k to
be Mrs. Goodwin. Seizing a stone, a heavy
blow ciushcd her skull and she- lell deail.
Upon turning her over and seeing her face
' he found that he had killed the wrong wo
man, it being Mrs. Cooper. Drawing her ti
a fence corner he covered her with brush,
took possession of t he shoes she had just pur-
1 chtsed from the store, with the other aili
cles. and made his escape, meeting Kunkle
' and casting suspicion upon him as stated.
Mr. Kunkle has lived to a good oM age in
the community, respected by a!', the daik
; cloud of suspicion once re-ding ujiou nun
; having fortumitelj been cleared away.
I A Mkmento of Blthan vn's Adminis
, tratios. The Atlanta. Ga., C'i'tii'ition
: says that the following letter is an exact copy
of "one now on file in the Post ( iffie Dcpart
' nient at Washington. It was received in
. obedience to orders to postal officials to m ike
. quarterly reports of the condition of their
offices :
j July the P Is.-.!
fulton Co ills
mister lames buckamn president of the
United States D.serSnr Bean required by the
iisLrin lions oi tne post oiu-e to report quar
terly, i now fiHi'.fill that plea-in ,'lut l,y re
poi tin as foliows. '1 he Harvest in has been
goin on petty, ami most of the nabors have
got thurcuttin abought done wheat is hard
ley a a vei age crop on robin lans corn is yel
lowlish ami wont turn out more than ten or
fifteeiit booshils to the aker the health of the
communitie is only Tolerable meesills ami
cohry have broke "outin about 2 and a hrl
miles from hear, tnair air powerlul awaken
oil tile sullied of rellirim in t tin nitl j riilw...
. i,,mi an m'enyVoals aPe being made to know
i there sins forgiven misses nancy Smith a neer
, nabor bad twins day before yisterdv one of
tliem is supposed to le a seven Mouther is a
I poar scraggy thing, and want live h;i!f its
; d.iyst'.iis is about awl i know and have to re
j port the present quattrer give my resiMt ts to
; misses Bin kcainiiii and sultkril myself
j yoors Trooley.
i Abigal jenkins
I r in at 1 niton Co ill.
A Hint to Yovno Hrsn nds. Love and
appreciation are to a woman what dew and
sunshine are to a llower. Thev refresh Hiul
biighteii her whole life. They m Ve her
strong-hearted nod keen sig'it-'-d in evi ry
thipg affecting the welfare of hi r i nie.
Tlvy enable her to chei her lius':.,il v !..-u
the cares of life press heavily i:;i in him. and
to '. a very providence to her children. To
ku w that her husban1' loves, her, and is
proud of her; that even her faults a e lin k
ed upon with tenderness; that Inn tace, to
one nt least. Is the fairest face :n nil the
world; thai the heart which t: her is the
greatest and mot blest, lioi 1 her sacred tn
its utmost recesses a'.mve all olocr women,
gives strength, and courage, and weptres,
ami vivacity w hich all the wcal'h ot the world
could not b'stow. Let a wonni:'s life be
pervided with Mich nn i'lfl lervc, and her
heart nnd mind will blossom and sweeten
an t brighten in perpetual y n'tli.
"Ti:oi m i:s under the sliilt," rcn-arks it
fashion paper, "are iiuivcrsal'y worn bv
equestriennes." Well, yes: e should think
that was the proper place to wc;r them. An
cquestiienne with trousers outside the skirt
would be a si"cctacie sufiiciei.t !y startling to
attract cotsjier.ble hitman attention, if, in
Ued, it would not scare the hoise. And
then to coitsiioT the r.l.loui.t of nige;u;:tj ie
qoiu d to get both 1 1 of them on over the
:.me skirt.