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RIAL LIST, APRIL TERM, 1858.
4. is olas Shaver (who bath survived William Sharer,) vs.
Penna. It. R. Co.
John Flemming vs B. X. Blair et at
Thomas Clark's heirs vs Brison Clark
Hunt. & B. T. R. R. Co. vs Able Putt
Samuel B. Mcreaters vs Alex. Beers et al
Sterling & Alexander vs Brachen, Stitt & Co.
John M. Wetters vs David Yarner
Harrison &Couch vs C. Y. M. Pro. Co.
David Caldwell, adm'tor vs Mich. I. Martin
A. H. Butabaugh for use vs C. V. M. P. Co.
Wm. blcilite vs James Clark adm'tor.
John Daugherty vs Geo. W. Speer
A. Yandevanders heirs vs John McComb
Margaret Foster vs William Foster
I. P. Brock vs John Savage
Same vs Same
John Savage vs Wm. Smith & 11. Davis
Geo. W. Wagoner vs Washington Gayer
Samuel D. Myton vs Henry Fockler
Clements' heirs vs John McCandess at al
John Savage vs James Entriken •
William Cammings adm'tor vs A. Walker
Richard Ramsey vs Alex. Richardson
Christopher Ozborn vs P. F. Kessler et al
James Wall. vs Jona. Wall
Philip Spahn vs Moses Ileilner
Christopher Ozborn vs P. F. Heisler
Bidleman & Hayward vs James Entriken
John Brewster vs James Entriken
Jno. W. Price vs Long & Rickets
Jas. Maguire vs A. S. Harrison
March 17,1858. D. CALDWELL, ProVy.
OF GRAND JURORS for a
j_j Court of Quarter Sessions to be held at - Huntingdon,
in and for the county of Huntingdon, the second Monday
and 12th day of April, A. D., 1858.
John Anderson, farmer, Juniata.
Lewis littrgans;blacksmith, Huntingdon.
John Black, carpenter, Huntingdon.
Daniel Beck, blacksmith, Darree.
Philip Bolsbangh, farmer, Porter.
William Clymans, farmer, Dublin.
John Covert, mason, Springfield.
George Dare, clerk, Franklin.
John Garner, jr, farmer, Penn.
Abraham Hirnish, farmer, Morris.
George Hallman, blacksmith, West.
Benjamin Hartman, farmer, West.
John Hirst, farmer, Barree.
Jonathan Hardy, farmer, Henderson.
Adam Lightner, farmer, West.
Abraham McCoy, brick-maker, Huntingdon.
David Miller, gentleman, West.
Benjamin Megahan, merchant, Walker.
William Pymm, blacksmith, Cassville.
James Stone, farmer, Union.
David S. Tussey, farmer,Porter,
Leo T. Wilson, farmer, urma.
William White, farmer, Juniata.
J. W. Yocum, farmer, Juniata.
TRAVERSE JURORS—FIRST WEER.
John Apsgar, farmer, Union.
Edward Bergle, mason, Morris.
William Buckley, farmer, Shirley.
Gilbert Chaney, J. P., Barree,
Solomon Chilcott, farmer, Tod.
Nicholas Cresswell, gentleman, Alexandria.
Andrew Crotsloy, farmer, Penn.
Thomas Duff; merchant, Jackson.
William Davis, merchant, Penn.
Henry Davis, blacksmith, West.
John Ely, merchant, Shirley.
James Ellis, grocer, Penn.
John Meaner, farmer, Henderson.
Nathan Greenland, farmer, Union.
John Grifford, jr., farmer, Shirley.
Augustus K. Green, farmer, Clay.
Frederick Harman, farmer, Cromwell.
Jonathan Harmer, farmer, Case.
James Henderson, merchant, Cassville.
Samuel Hannah, teacher, Warriorsmarlc.
Samuel Hamer, laborer, Alexandria.
George Jackson, farmer, Jackson.
William Jackson, farmer, Jackson.
Joseph G. Kemp, farmer, Oneida.
'William McWilliams, fanner, Franklin.
Isaac McClain, farmer, Tod.
Samuel J. Marks, carpenter, Franklin.
Elliot McKinstnoy, farmer, Shirley.
Peter Myers, tailor, Shirley.
John 0. Murray, carpenter, Huntiagdon.
Samuel McClain, farmer, Cass.
James Miller, saddler, Jackson.
'Henry F. Newingham gentleman, Huntingdon.
John B. Ozburn, teacher, Jackson,
Alexander Port, J. P., Huntingdon.
Samuel Pheasant, farmer, Cass.
•Samuel Rolston, J. P., Warriorsmark.
Abraham Ramsey, laborer, Springfield.
Samuel H. Shoemaker, sportsman, Huntingdon
William B. Smith, farmer, Jackson.
A. Jaksoon Stewart, fanner, Franklin.
David Stoner, farmer, Clay.
Nicholas Shaner, farmer, Shirley.
John B. Thompson, farmer, Franklin.
Ephraim Thompson, farmer, Porter.
Jonathan Wilson, farmer, West.
James Wilson, farmer, Henderson.
William Wagoner, mason, Clay.
TRAVERSE JURORS—SECOND WREN.
John B. Briggs, farmer, Tull.
John Burnbaugh, sr., gentleman, Huntingdon
Richard Co legate, blacksmith, Shirley.
John C. Cummings, farmer, Jackson.
James Carman, teacher, Huntingdon.
Nicholas Crum, miller, Tod.
John Dougherty, farmer, Shirley.
Perry 0. Etchison, shoemaker, Cromwell.
William Ewing, farmer, Barree.
Isaac Grove, farmer, Perry.
Israel Grafius, Eeq., Ulmer, Alexandria.
Christian Harnish, farmer, Porter.
James S. Hampson, inkoeper, Brady.
Thomas Irwin, farmer, Union.
William Johnston, tanner, Shirleysburg.
Joshua Johns, farmer, Springfield.
Samuel B. MeEeeters,farmer, Tell.
Jackson McElroy, farmer, Jackson.
John B. Moreland, teacher, Clay.
Robert McNeal, farmer, Shirley.
John Morrison, farmer, Shirley.
John McComb, farmer, Union.
James S. Oaks, farmer, Jackson.
John Owens, J. P., Warriorsmark.
George Price, farmer, Clay.
John Rhodes, farmer, Henderson.
George Russell, Esq.., farmer, Hopewell.
Benjamin Rinker, farmer, Cromwell.
Peter Swoope, gentleman, 'Huntingdon.
John Smith, of Geo., farmer, .13arreo,
George Spranker, farmer, Porter.
John L. Travis, farmer, Franklin.
Miller Wallace, carpenter, Brady.
George Wagoner, carpenter, Dublin,
George Walters, machinist, Morris.
Elias B. Wilson,J. P., Cassvillo.
Huntingdon, March 17, 1855.
PROCLAMATION. -WHEREAS, by
a precept to me directed, dated at Huntingdon, the
lust day of January, A. D. 1858, under the hands and seals
of the lion. George Taylor, President of the Court of
Common Pleas, Oyer and Terminer, and general jail deliv
ery of the '24th Judicial District of Pennsylvania, compo
sed of Huntingdon, Blair and Cambria counties; and the
Hons. Benjamin F. Patton and John Brewster, his associ
ates, Judges of the county of Huntingdon, justices as
signed, appointed to hear, try and determine all and every
indictments made or taken for or concerning all crimes,
which by the laws of the State aro made capital, or felon
ies of death, and other offences, crimes and misdemeanors,
'which have been or shall hereafter be committed or perpe
trated, for crimes aforesaid—l tun commanded to make
public proclamation throughout my whole bailiwick, that
a Court of Oyer and Terminer, of Common Pleas and
Quarter Sessions, will be held at the Court House in the
borough of Huntingdon, on the second Monday (and 12th
day) of April, next, and those who will prosecute the
said prisoners, be then and there to prosecute them as it
shall be just, and that all Justices of the Peace, Coroner
and Constables within said county, be then and there in
their proper persons, at 10 o'clock, a. m. of said day, with
their records, inquisitions, examinations and remembran
ces, to do those things which to their offices respectively
Dated at Huntingdon the 15th day of March, in the year of
our Lord one thousand eight hundred and fifty-eight,
and the 82d year of American Independence.
GIIAFFUS MILLER, Sheriff:
a precept to me directed by the Judges of the Com
mon Pleas of the county of Huntingdon, bearing test the
2lat day of January, ISSB, I am commanded to make
Public Proclamation throughout my .whole bailiwick, that
a Court of Common Pleas will be held at the Court house
in the borough of Huntingdon, on the 3rd Monday (and
19th day) of April, A. D.,1358, for the trial of all is
sues in said Court which remain undetermined before
the said Judges, when and whero all jurors, witnesses, and
suitors, in the trials of all issues are required.
Dated at Huntingdon the 15th March, in the year of our
Lord 1858, and tho 82d year of American Independence.
GRAFFUS MILLER, SheriS:
Sasarres OFFICE, )
Huntingdon, March 17,1857.
The following article from the Prairie
Farmer, is so full of truth, that, notwith :
standing its length, we give it in full:
Few things are so precarious as commer
cial credit. Men who have borne up under
repeated losses of thousands of dollars, have,
in the end, gone down before so informida
ble a thing . as a doubt. First a surmise,
then a suspicion, next a pressure, at last a
protest, followed by a failure—such is the
brief history of the downfall of many a deal
er in foreign fabrics, whose daughters went
forth arrayed in purple and fine line; and
whose house was furnished like unto the pal
ace of a king.
There is a sad look of manly honor and
integrity among commercial men. They set
up for themselves a strange standard of mo
rality—a combination of punctuality—which
must pay a debt the very hour in which it
becomes due, and a license which sanctions
any business that brings gain, whether by
flattering the vanity of women, by gratifying
the appetites of men, or by rasping gold
from the dry bones of poverty. Almost all
merchants and bankers fail to know that
their business is very unsafe. Most of them
forsee that failure is inevitable; but, instead
of bowing at once, they continue to borrow
money, try to make a show of wealth by in
creasing their business, stake the money of
others on a desperate cast where success
would simply postpone the ruin, miserably
fail, and, in their fall, drag down hundreds
of honest men who placed implicit confi
dence in their honor and business capacity.
To this method of transacting business there
arc noble exceptions ; but they are distin
guished for their singularity.
We never believed that there was, neces
sarily, more hazard in the mercantile or
the bankino- business than in farming.—
Farmers rarely become bankrupt, simply be
cause they keep their expenditures below
their incomes, and do not try suddenly to
get rich by borrowing money and engaging
in hazardous speculations. Suppose a man
should attempt to borrow a hundred thou
sand dollars in order to bet at a horse race
or at a faro bank—would any prudent man
furnish him with the means ? Would any
upright man give him money for such a pur
pose ? Gamblers ern borrow money only
from gamblers- or from fools. And if bor
rowing money to speculate in sugars, for ex
ample, be not gambling, by what name shall
we call it? The principle is just the same,
whether we stake money on the swiftness of
a horse, the turning of a card, or the failure
of a crop. Suppose a man should borrow
money for the ostensible purpose of buying
a vast quantity of sugar and awaiting an ex
pected rise in its price, and should, without
consulting his creditors, bet the whole sum
on a decrease in the next sugar crop—would
not the lenders charge him with a violation
of faith, a reckless misuse of their money,
and appeal to the law for restitution ? And
yet there would be scarcely a shade of differ
ence between the morality of the two trans
actions. The one would be like buying the
horse to win money on his speed, the other
would be simply betting on the race. In
truth, the most striking difference between
the commercial gambler and the horse jockey
gambler, is this—the one cheats scoundrels
like himself, the other cheats honest men.—
And it is this cheating and overreaching,
this unmanly impatience that will not wait
for the rev; and of honest industry, this eager
ness for sudden and unmerited wealth, this
reckless hazard of borrowed money, which
strews all the paths of commercial life with
the bleaching bones of bankruptcy, and robs
the unsuspecting poor man of his small but
A young man just liberated from the ap
prenticeship of a common clerk conceives
the idea of becoming immensely rich in a
few years, and resolves to open a wholesale
store, or perhaps a large banking house.—
From his late employers he receives flattering
letters of recommendation, just as quick as
medicines receive puffs from newspapers ;
and from his mercantile acquaintances he
begs testimonials, just as bad actors beg ap
plause from the galleries of theatres. Armed
thus with both sword and shield of the com
mercial imposter, he obtains credit; borrows
money; opens a splendid establishment; em
ploys a dozen dashing clerks ; marries a
belle who must be attended by a train of
liveried menials ; rents a first-class house on
the most fashionable avenue ; receives on de
posit the earnings of laborers and seam
stresses; drives a splendid span of blood
horses ; gives dinners, evening parties, and
birthday balls, buys box tickets at the thea
tre; heads the list whenever a complimentary
benefit is tendered to a favorite actress ; oc
cupies a front pew at church; never offers
less than a hundred dollars at a donation
party ; spends the summer at Newport or
Saratoga • announces his intention to visit
Paris and London the ensuing spring; bor
rows, and borrows, and borrows, till he can
borrow no more—and then there is a stare
ling rumor that a failure has occurred in
volving.in ruin hundreds of industrious and
economical people. The telegraph sends the
astonishing intelligence all over the country;
editors consult thir dictionaries for words
to utter their regret and astonishment ; com
mercial men tender their sympathy, and ex
press renewed confidence in the integrity of
their unfortunate brother ; and the cheated
poor again commence their weary journey at
the bottom of their steep and rugged path of
life. The author of all this wasteful extrava
gance, and all this glittering falsehood, and.
all this pompous liberality, and all this snob
bish admiration, and all this undeserved
sympathy, and all this piteously abused con
fidence, absents himself from public assem
blies till the nine days' tempest has blown
over, and then comes forth to seek some new
field of operation and play tho same game
The shivering beggar who steals a web of
flannel is promptly arrested and punished.—
No sympathizing crowed follows him to the
.i.-.... 1, ....,:.:,,,,,..:.
; : .Fr.,; . ,-.,.. , ..,,
grim entrance of the solitary and dreaded
abode of counterfeits, thieves and assassins.
No sorrowful paragraph reluctantly tells how,
in an evil hour, be cothmitted the unfortu
nate deed. And yet how small does his of
fence seem alongside of the enormous crimes
of the wicked and reckless vagabond who
steals the value of many thousand webs of
flannel; who, though he never earned the
food of a starveling dog, yet ~ften squandered
in a single night's licentious riot more than
a whole year's wages of an industrious man;
who beggared hundreds of families whose
humble dwellings he was not worthy to en
ter ; and who a bankrupt, debtor, yet wast
ing the substance of others with the most
shameful extravagance, and covered all over
with the recent stains of treachery, falsehood,
fraud and exortion—goes off the stage which
he disgraced, not only unpunished, but with
the sympathy of most whom he did not rob ?
Every principle of honor tells us that no
man should peril another when ruin is even
probable. He should pause at once, and
brave the danger which his own folly has
brought upon him. The plain rules of com
. tustice exempt the innocent from the
punishment of the guilty. When a man wil
fully invites ruin which he might otherwise
avert, and treacherously involves unsuspect
ing men in it, the public conscience must be
sin hardened if it does not pronounce him an
infamous criminal, and the law which does
not treat him as such must lack jnstice as
much as he lacks virtue. Why should a
merchant or a banker every day do with hn
punity what would forever ruin the reputa
tion of a farmer or a mechanic? It is good
that disgraces should constantly attend upon
bad conduct in a farmer, but why should it
not also constantly attend upon bad conduct
in a merchant ? When a farmer, through
extravagance or mismanagement, becomes
bankrnpt, he is called a swindler and a cheat;
but when a merchant, through even worse
conduct, fails in business, his bankruptcy is
charged to the account of financial embarras
ment. How strange that broadcloth or home
spun should so change the complexion of
The merchant is constantly exposed to loss
by uncurrent bank notes ; so is the farmer.—
He may be ruined by the reduction in the
price of produce; so may the farmer. He
may be hard pressed by his creditors ; so
may the farmer. He may be cheated by his
debtors; so may the farmer. He may be re
duced to poverty by sickness, by fire, by
flood ; so .may the farmer. , On. the right
hand and on the left, before and behind, he
is exposed to evils ; and the farmer is exposed
to the worst effects of rain and drought, and
to the ravages of untimely frosts and destroy
ing insects. After summing up the whole
matter, we - find that for every danger to
which the one is subject, an equal danger be
sets the other. We insist, therefore, upon
the right to try them both by the same stan
dard, and the conduct which, in a farmer
would be disgraceful, cannot be overlooked
in a merchant. Let business men, as they
call themselves, imitate the plain simplicity
and the honest prudence of farmers, and
there will be an end to the disheartening list
of assignments and failures. It is no part
of their duty to imitate the manners of the
simpering fops of London and Paris, to squan
der the annual products of a farm at the ben
efit of a lewd actress, to sleep all clay and
spend the night amid riot and debauchery,
to frequent the assemblies of men bloated
with gluttony, dropping with wine, and reel
ing in obscene dances. No man has a right
to spend more money than his ordinarry in
come ; and he who squanders the earnings of
others should be set down in the catalogue
of thieves. Until the law ceases to make
distinctions without a difference, the confi
ding poor man will hold his bank deposits
by the precarious tenure of commercial con
science, and the defaulter will mock at the in
dignation of public opinion.
Labor is the lot of man in this world. It,
may be toil of the body, or toil of the mind,
or a combination of both ; but in one form or
another, man mut live by exertion and in
dustry. The number is small of those who
are born to property, or who inherit wealth
sufficient to raise them abovve the necessity
of working for their livelihood. It is, there
fore, a subject of important cosideration, in
what direction the energies of youth may be
turned to the best profit and advantage.—
The difficulties attending this inquiry are
universally felt, and the choice of a business
or profession is at this period a theme of anx
ious consultation in many a family. The fol
lowing remarks are offered in the hope that
they may assist the deliberations both of
young men and of parents in this important
A young man,s calling or occupation in life
is determined by a great variety of circum
stances. Sometimes there is verry little room
for choice. For example, a son may succeed
to a business made by the industry or skill
of a father; or the assistance of relatives of
the patronage of friends may direct to a par
ticular path in life. But we are supposng a
youth without any of these special advanta
ges, having his own way to make in the world,
and with nothing but his own talents, strength,
and industry to depend on. In this case
there are many things to be taken into ac
count. There is the bodily health and con
stitution; there is the mental capacity and
and education; there is the natural inclination
acquired taste, and other qualifications of a
personal kind. It is a fatal mistake when a
youth, either by his own choice, or by the
advice (we shall not say compulsion) of guar
dians or parents, enters into an occupation
for which he is by nature or by circumstan
ces unfitted. Yet this is a mistake constant
ly occuring, and attended with miserable
consequences. Strength, health, constitution
of mind as well as of body, inclination, taste,
social position and moral influences, ought all
more or less, to be taken into account in de
termining the choice.
Besides these personal elements in the
there must be consideration of exter
nal circumstances depending on the particu
lar state of society in certain places or times.
HUNTINGDON, PA., MARCH 31, 1858.
Choice of a Business.
One branch of manual industry, or one line
of intellectual labor, may be subject to com
petition so excessive, that it would be unwise
to enter upon the struggle except with qual
ifications certain to command success, how
ever much the inclination might be biassed
in that direction. In other departments,
capital may be necessary, or patronage, or
an introduction not dependant on personal
merit or exertion. In different parts of the
country the chances of obtaining employment
vary, and there are some callings that can be
carried on the best in certain localities, while
others are in demand in every district.—
Those who are willing to emigrate to foreign
lands, or to the colonies, may trust to quali
fications different from what others possess
who are resolved to remain at home. All
these points we merely hint at in this place
to show how much need there is for careful
and judicious deliberation before choice is
made. Previous' to entering into details, we
have a few suggestions to offer, which, are
applicable to every case. From inattention
to the points to which we are going to refer,
much injury through life is sustained.
The choice should not be made too early.
Both in town and country the hard require
ments of poverty compel many youths of
tender years to begin betimes to earn their
daily bread. We have nothing to say where
the necessity for this exists, and a body of
right feeling will gladly submit to toil, or
give up prospects that he might have after
better schooling, if, by his early exertion, he
can make the burden lighter for his parents,
and bring his share to the family resources.
In some trades, it is also necessary for the
apprenticeship to begin early. But where
there is no compulsion to remove a youth
from home and from school, it is both un
wise and unfair to hurry him into the bus
iness of life. If a boy is idle, or mischiev
ous, or likely to be spoiled by an- indulgent
mother, or led into evil by bad companions,
the case becomes different ; the sooner he is
set to work the better. We are supposing
now, however, a boy'of average abilities and
disposition, with will as well as opportuni
ties of improvement, both bodily and mental.
It is short-sighted policy to thrust such a
boy prematurely into the world to begin to
do for himself. The health may be irrecov
erably injured by labor beyond the strength
in the years of early growth. If there is no
risk on that score there is the arrest laid on
education at the very time when the mind is
most capable of profiting by instruction re
ceived. A good schooling is often a fortune
in itself, and will increase the chances of
success in any walk of life. Parents or
guardians ought never to grudge the time
given to general education, although the
time may be thereby delayed for the special
training required for a business or profes
sion. It is true that where the love of
knowledge exists, it will be cultivated under
any circumstances. But where parents can
by thoughtfulness and even by self-denial,
extend the education of their children, it is
their wisdom as well as their duty to do so.
Money and time devoted to this are well laid
out. The greatest men have looked back
with regret to the years _of youth as the sea
son for acquiring knowledge. Sir Walter
Scott himself said be would give half his
fame for learning which he might have ac
quired at school. Apart from the special
qualifications which give success in certain
callings, every one understands the worth of
a sensible, - well-informed man, and the pos
session of this character very much depends
on the general education previous to enter
ing on a particular business or profession.—
Delay is here often not lost, but well-spent
Another point we present for their consid
eration of parents previous to the choice be
ing made. What is the object chiefly in view?
If it were merely how to get a livelihood, the
question would be much simplified. There
are parents perfectly indifferent to the mode
iu which their children are to make their way
in the world, by fair means or foul, honora
ble or dishonorable. To such we are not ad
dressing ourselves. In lawful and honest
pursuits there are still many motives, more
or less reputable, by which a choice may be
influenced. The two most general conside
rations, superadded to the expectation of gain
ing a livelihood, are the acquisitions of wealth
and social distinction. Both of these are le
gitimate objects, and honorable when fairly
pursued, and not carried to excess. Wehave
now to view them only as exerting, an influ
ence on the choice of a calling. When we
here speak of wealth and social distinction,
or rank, the terms are only comparative in
their use, and we refer to motives at work in
every grade of their social system. What
one would count poverty, another would re
gard as opulence ; and a station which some
look down upon with contempt, is the object
of envy and ambition to others. The strug
gles, the rivalries, the jealousies, and all the
passions and follies, as well as the advanta
ges accompanying comparitive wealth and
rank, are quite as conspicuous in the humbler
as in the higher classes. A real nobleman by
birth and feeling would be infinitely amused
if he could see the shades of precedence and
grades of respectability among people that
appear to him all on one common level.
Paunracen.—The great end of prudence is
to give cheerfulness to those hours which
splendor cannot gild, and exclamation can
not exhilarate. Those soft intervals of un
beaded amusement in which a man shrinks
to his natural dimensions, and throws aside
his ornaments or disguises which he feels, in
privacy to be useless ineumbranees, and
lose all effect when they become familiar:=—
To be happy at home is the ultimate result
of all ambition—the end to which every en
terprise and labor tends, and of which every
desire prompts the prosecution. It is indeed
at home that every man must be known, by
those who would make a just estimate either
of his virtue or felicity ; for smiles and em
broidery are alike occasianal, and the mind
is often dressed for show in painted honor
and fictitious benevolence.
"Friends at a pineh"—a pair of tight
e. , •4,
One evening as a poor man and his wife
with five or six children were sitting at the
door of their cottage, one of the children said;
"O, father, how poor we are! Ido wish a.
good fairy would come and tell us where we
might find a great treasure. I guess I would
not sit all day idle any more, and have so lit
tle to eat."
No sooner said than done—a beautiful wo
man, with radiant countenance, stood before
them, who said, "Little boy, I heard you
wish, and if you will obey my directions, you
may find a great treasure,' Then turning to
the man, she said, "A. treasure lies hid in
your grounds ; if you will seek for it, you
will find, and may have it ; it is not three feet
from the surface either; begin to dig to-mor
row for it." She then went away.
The children clapped their hands for joy,
and the man and his wife could hardly credit
their ears that they bad really heard such a
thing, for they were poor indeed. Though
the man had a large tract of land, it was un
uncultivated, yielding nothing, barely suffi
cient pasturage for a poor cow, which afford
ed them almost all the sure nourishment they
had. They were poor, idle, discontented peo
ple, and the children half starved ; so to be
sure they were glad enough to hear the fai
ry's words, and could hardly wait till morn
ing to begin to dig.
They were up with the sun; those that
could get shovels dug with them, those that
could not, worked with their hands. In afew
days they had dug a considerable of a place
over, and several times they thought they had
conic to the treasure, but it was only stones ;
they went on for several weeks, but had not
found the treasure.
" One night as they sat at the door the beau
tiful fairy appeared. " Well," said she,
"you havn't found the treasure yet l No
matter, dig away, you'll find it some time or
other: meantime, Mr. Goodman, you must not
let these little folks starve ; get sonic corn,
throw into that patch you have dug, and have
some corn growing. come again by-and
by—dig away, you'll find the treasure;" so
she went away.
"That's a capital idea" said the father,
(Good-man,) "I'll get sonic corn, and plant
So he did, and as they dug for the treasure
it pleased them to see how soon the corn
sprung up, and ripened, and what a crop they
had ; and the cornstalks made nice food for
the cow, too. The mother dug for the treas
ure, sometimes, and having become accus
tomed to it, they all accomplished quite a
large place in a short time ; and soon the good
fairy appeared again.
She said, " she knew they had not found
the treasure yet, hut she was afrid the young
children. had become tired of digging and she
thought they had better go into the woods,
and get some wild strawberries, and put into
the place they had dug ; it was just the place
to make strawberries very large, and it would
please them ; but dig on," said she, " you
will certainly find the treasure yet." So the
next day the children went and brought home
baskets of strawberry roots, and planted a
nice bed of them ; then they dug away again
for the treasure.
One day they dug a terrible hard piece of
the land, and had to pull up some old tree
stumps and stones, etc., round a large cherry
tree be hind the house, and they were very
tired. That night a traveler came that -way,
and had to stop there over night, they lived
so far from any other house. As they had
no barn, he tied the horse to this cherrry tree.
and gave him his oats out of a bag he bad
brought on his back. The traveller went
away next morning, but in a few days they
found the oats the horse had spilled and scat
tered had sprung up in the nicely dog ground,
and they had a little field of oats I This
pleased Mr. Goodman very much, ankwhen
the good fairy next appeared, he toldttber of
it. " Oh, yes," she said, "it would be a good
plan to plant something in each place as you
dig it." Site said the, next time she came she
would bring seeds for them. So they had
another object for which to dig beside the
finding of the treasure—to see the things
She was as good as her word, and brought
the seeds, and they had dug so well they could
plant a great many melons, and other nice
things which they never had before hu their
lives; and the soil was so good, and had been
so nicelydug and turned over for the treasure,
that the plants grew so rapidly, and ripened
so soon, that the next time she came she told
them they had better stop digging awhile,
just till they could take care of the oats, and
strawberries, melons, and other things. They
had eaten as much as they wanted of them
all the season, and sold some to the nearest
houses, and now Mr. Goodman said they
would go next - week to the nearest market
town with the rest.
So they went. The market people said the
strawberries were the largest they had ever
seen, and their melons brought the highest
price ; and the mother surprised them all by
showing them a cheese she had made from
the milk of their cow, which had yielded
twice as much, having had better feed. The
youngest children had carried each two bas
kets of strawberries, (the baskets they had
made of willow twigs) while the elder ones
and their father were loaded with melons,
pears, beans, corn, etc. ; and when they had
sold them and come out of the town on their
way home, a happir family never was seen.
They all had a. handful of money they had
earned themselves ! 4P
When they got home they sat round a ta
ble, and putting all their money upon it sat
looking in wonder and joy. They never had
seen so much in all their lives before; they
were so pleased, they had quite forgotten the
treasure they had dug so hard and long for,
till the fairy put her bead in at the door.
"How beautiful your farm looks!" said she,
and your cherry tree will bear bushels of
nice cherries nest season, now you have dug
away all those stones and stumps from the
roots. See how it branches out I And what
have you here," looking on the table, "Money!
silver ! dollars! Ah !" said she, "Did I not
tell you there, was a hidden treasure in your
ground that you would certainly find, if you.
Editor and Proprietor.
A Pelasant Lesson.
dug for it? This heap of money is the last
part of the treasure you have found by dig
"Look how healthy you have become I .
.11ov4 industrious and useful your children
have become—how hopeful and. happy you
are ! Look at your farm now; where there
was nothing but stumps and stones before you
dug is now a garden and ! Yes, you
have found more than one treasure—and now,
should you like to know my name ? lam
called "Industry, or the Poor Man's Fairy."
I always know and tell where a treasure is,
to all—children even, if they will listen to my
voice and words. Adieu, adieu," and she
kissed her hand and disappeared, leaving
them still looking at the treasure they had
A Race with a Widow.
Merciful Jehosaphat and big onions, what
a time I've had with that widder. We char
tered an omnibus for two, on Christmas, and
started. Widder, said I, where shall we go
to ? She blushed, and said she didn't like to
say. I told her she must say.
"Well Jehuel, if you insist upon it, and I
am to have my choice, I had rather go to
What for, widder P" said I.
" Oh, Jehuel how can you ask me ?"
" Cause I want to know," said I.
" Well—(blushing redder than beef)—it is
such cold weather new, and the nights are so
cold, and —oh; Jehuel, I can't stand it!"
" Oh, pshaw, widder, spit it out ; what do
The widow riled. She biled right over like .
a quart of milk on the fire, and burst out
"If you can't understand me you're a
heartless brute, so you are."
" Hold your horses !" said I. " What's all
this about! I'm not a brute, nor never vas:
and if a man called me that I'd boot him,
And then I tiled right over, and unbut
toned my coat collar to keep me from Bustin'
off my buttons. The widder saw I was
ing to explode, or else collapse my wind pipe,
and she flung her arms round my neck, and
put her lips to mine, and cooled right down.
"-Jelmcl, dear !" said she, in an insinuatin'
way, and a voice as sweet as a hand organ,
"Jehuel, honey I wanted to go to church to
get mar—no I can't say it all, you finish the
word, Jehuel, sweet."
" What word, mann ?"
"Oh, you stupid Jehuel, dear. I mean the'
word married, love."
Married widder ! said I, did you mean
" lucked I did Jelluel, love!"
" Look here marru, my name isn't Janet
Love, nor Jehuel Dear, nor Jehuel Sweet, I'd
have you to know. And I won't get married
to nobody but one, and you are not the she."
" Oh, pewter pennies, but didn't she rave ?
She made one dash at me, I dodged, and she
went butt up against the upper end of the
omnibus. Crack went her comb, and smash
went that bran new bonnet that I didn't buy
for her, and down she went with her face in
the straw. But in a moment she rose again,
and made one more dash at me, I dropped—
she went over me and butted the door of the
omnibus, and out she went—her gaiter boots
higher than her head as she struck the pave
" Drive on ?" I yelled to the driver.
" Woman overboard 1" cried a passing sail-
" Stop that White Coat—breach of prom
ise—reward—Herald—publisb," shrieked the
wilder in tone of mortal agony, while tears
of blood streamed from her beautiful pug nose.
"Drive on ! drive on !" I shouted
" Where to ?" asked the driver.
"To the devil—to Harlem—to Macoznb's
Danz—anywhere, so we escape matrimony
and the widder."
" lie started, so did the widder i and then
we had it up the avenue, the buss having the
start of about a hundred yards. Foot to foot
the widder gained. Thinks I, Jehuel, you
are a goner, I thought it best to lighten ship.
So first I hove overboard the straw. Still she
gained on me. Then overboard went the
cushions. But still she gained.
" More steam driver, for mercy's sake !" I
" We arc going faster than the law allows
now" he answered. " Thirteen miles an
Jehosaphat, how the widder run; she hove
off her bonnet and came up hand over hand.
A thought struck me, and so I off' with my
white coat and flung it right down in her
path. She sprang on it like a she panther,
and tore it to pieces. Oh, how they flew. I
wept to see it go but life is sweeter than a
coat, and my tailor is making me a new one.
Here we gained full two hundred yards, but
on she came again. Once more I could see
the green in her eyes—Merciful Moses how I
" Driver," said I, "kill them horses or get
another tulle out of them."
" Will you - pay for 'cm?" he said.
" Yes, yes," said .1 . , "only save me from the
By crackey, we did slide; the widder no
longer gained, but she held her own beauti
fully. Thus we had it—out past the Red
House—through Harlem—whore Capt. Gra
ham, with three mounted policemen, in vain
attempted to catch us, he probably supposing
that we were running away with some bank
14Iy only hope -was in reaching Degroot's
ahead of her, for I knew they would hide me,
We were on the bridge, and oh, Moses, the
draw was up, and a sloop going- through."—
" Driver," said I, "Jump that bridge and I'll
make your fortune for life r sure as you're
" I'll do it or die," he cried. And be did
it. The widder jumped after us, fell into the
Harlem river, and has'nt been heard of since.
ic:W A poor sailor ; wrecked on an un
known coast, wandered about in momentary
apprehension of being seized by savages,
when he suddenly came in sight of a gallows.
"Ah," said he, " thank God, Tam in a civ
le-Were but human beings always that
which they are in their best moments, then
should we know here already on earth a
kingdom of heaven, of beauty and goodness.
ger " I say, Mr, Editor ; do you take Phil
adelphia money?" " No." " What's the
reason—ain't it good?" "Yes." Why don't
you take it, then ?" "Can't get it."
feirA pretty definition of a good wife—
one who always takes care to have herself and
dinner nicely dresAed.
Dar Peace is the evening star of the soul,
as virtue is it's sun; and the two axe never
gEir. Hard words havo never taught wis
dom, nor does truth require them.
sam.A Sheriff's officer is a man who never
leaves another in distress.