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AT BEN. JACOBS'
AT BEN JACOBS'
BENJ. JACOBS has now upon his shelves a large and
full assortment of
SPRING AND SUMMER GOODS,
comprising a very extensive assortment of
LADIES' DRESS GOODS, DRY GOODS,
READY-MADE CLOTHING, GROCERIES, HATS & CAPS,
BOOTS & SHOES, &c., &c., &c.
His stock of CLOTHING for men and boys is complete—
every article of wear will be found to be good and cheap.
Full suits sold at greatly reduced prices—panic prices—
which will be very low.
His entire stock of Goods will compare with any other
iu town, and the public will do well to call and examine
before purchasing elsewhere.
As I am determined to sell my goods, bargains may be
expected, so all will do well to call.
Country Produce taken in Exchange for Goods.
BENJ. JACOBS, Cheap Corner.
Huntingdon, April 6,1859.
NEW MARBLE YARD
IN HUNT INGD ON,
ON MIFFLIN STREET, BETWEEN SMITH AND FRANKLIN.
JAMES M. GREEN informs the citizens of the county
generally, that he has opened a MARBLE YARD at the
above place, and is prepared to finish marble to order in
the best workmanlike manner.
TOMB STONES, BUREAU and STAND TOPS, &c., fur
nished ou short notice, and at reasonable prices.
He hones, by strict attention to business, to merit and
receive a share of public patronage.
Huntingdon, May 4, 18,59-Iy.
• DRY GOODS,
G. A. MILLER informs the citizens of Huntingdon and
vicinity, that he keeps constantly on band a general as
sortment of unocERIEs, Confectionaries, Sc., and that
lie will try to accommodate his customers with the best.
lie also has on hand an assortment of Dry bloods, Boots
and Shoes, llitts, and other -goods.
Thankful for past favors, he hopes to merit a continu
ance of the seine.
Dont forget the place, in the old Temperance Hall build
ing. [Huntingdon, April 20, 1559.
D. P. GIVIN'S CHEAP STORE
D. P. GWI.N bas just returned from Philadelphia, with
the largest and most beautiful assortment of
SPRING AND SUMMER GOODS
Ever brought to Huntingdon. Consisting ~f the most
fashionable Dress Goods fur Ladies and Gentlemen; Black
and Fancy Silks, all Wool Delaines. (all colors.) Spring De
lains, Braize Delanes, Braizes, all colors; Debaize, Lavelia
Cloth. Ducals, Alpacca, Plain and Silk Warp, Printed Bee
ages' 'Brilliants, Plain and Colored Gingliams, Lawns and
Prints of every description.
Also, a large lot of Dress Trimmings, Fringes, Mortiin
thine Ribbon, Gimps, Buttons, Braids, Crapes, Ribbons,
Reed and Brass I loops, Silk and Linen Eh indkerch iels, Neck-
Ties, Stocks, Zepher, French Working Cotton, Linen and
Cotton Floss. Tidy Yarn, d.c.
Also, the best and cheapest assortment of Collars and
Under:heves iu town ; Barred and Plain Jacouet, Mull Mus
lin, Swiss, Plain, Figured and dotted Skirts, Belts, Mar
sallies for Capes, and a variety of White Goods too numer
ous to mention.
A LARGE AND BEAUTIFUL ASSORTMENT of Bay
State, Waterloo and Wool Shawls, Single mid Double
Brocha Shawls. Cloths, Cassimeres, CaSniTICUS, Tweeds,
Kentucky Jeans, Vestings, bleached and unbleached Mus
lins, sheeting and pillow-case Milslins, Nankeen, Ticking,
Checks, Table, Diaper, Crash, Flannels, Sack Flannels,
Canton Flannels, Blankets, &e. Also, a large lot of Silk
and Colored Straw Bonnets, of the latest styles, which
will be sold cheaper than can be had in Huntingdon.
HATS and CAPS, BOOTS, SHOES, the largest and cheap
est assortment in town.
HARDWARE, QUEENSWARE, BUCKETS, CHURNS,
TUBS, BUTTER BOWLS, I3ROOM S. BRUSHES, &c. CAR•
PETS and OIL CLOTH. FISH, SALT. SUGAR, COFFEE,
TEA, MOLASSES, and all goods usually kept in a country
My old customers, and as many new ones as can crowd
In. are respectfully requested to call and examine my goods.
CKi~All kinds of Country Produce taken in exchange fur
Goods, at the Highest Market Prices. D. P. GWIN.
Huntingdon, April 6, 1859.
LIKES PEAK GOLD!
Cannot rival in attraction the superb stock of SPRING
and SUMMER Goods now being received and opened by
FISHER & .31' 2fURTRIE.
This stock has been selected with great care, and the
Public are cordially invited to call and examine it.
It comprises all - the late styles of Ladies'
Dress Goods, such as Pon Do Chevre, Robes A'Lez, Organ
dies, Jacconets, Lawns, Challis, Plain and Figured Berages,
Critpe Maras, Plain and Colored Chintzes, French and
English Ginghams, Amaranths, Valentias, Alpaccas, De
Bage, Prints, &c., &c.
A beautiful assortment of Spring Shawls,
round and square corners, all colors. A full stock of La
dies' Fine Collars, Gentlemen's Furnishing Goods, such us
Collars, Cravats, Ties, Stocks, Dosiery, Shirts, Gauze anti
Silk Undershirts, Drawers, &c.
We have a fine selection of Mantillas,
Dress Trimmings, Fringes, Ribbons, Mitts, Gloves, Gaunt
lets, Hosiery, Handkerchiefs, Buttons, Floss, Sewing Silk,
Extension Skirts, Hoops of all kinds, ,tc.
Also—Tickings, Osnaburg, Bleached and
Unbleached Muslins, all prices; Colored and White Cam
brics, Barred and Swiss Muslins, Victoria Lawns, Nain
sooks, Tarleton, and many other articles which comprise
the line of AVIIITE and DOMESTIC GOODS.
French Cloths, Fancy Cassimers, Satinets, Jeans, Tweeds,
Denims, Blue Drills, Flannels, Lindseys, Comforts, Blank
Hats, Caps, and Bonnets, of .every -variety
A Good Stock of GROCERIES, HARDWARE, Q 1.3 BENS
WARE, BOOTS and SHOES, WOOD and WILLOW-WARE:,
which will be sold Cheap.
We also deal in PLASTER, FISH, SALT, and all kinds
of GRAINS, and possess facilities in this branch of trade
unequalled by any. We deliver all packages or parcels of
Merchandise, free of charge, at the Depots of the Broad Top
and Pennsylvania Railroads.
COME ONE, COME ALL, and be convinced that the Me
tropolitan is the place to secure fashionable and desirable
goods, disposed of at the lowest rates.
FISHER A: M'MURTRIE.
Huntingdon, April 6, 1859.
MOS W ES STROUS,
Will risk the above sum that he can Sell Goods, to every
body, at prices to suit the times. llis stock has been ie
newed for SPRING and SUMMER, and he invites all to
call and examine for-themselves.
His stock consists of every variety of
LADIES' DRESS GOODS,
DRY GOODS, OF ALL HINDS,
Such as Summer Coats, Frock Coats, Dress Coats, Jackets,
BOOTS and SHOES, HATS and CAPS, of all sizes, for
old and young.
GROCERIES, of the best; QUEENSWARE, Sze., &c.
The public generally are earnestly invited to call and
examine my new stock of Goods, and be convinced that I
can accommodate with Goods and Prices, all who are look
ing out for great bargains.
All kinds of Country Produce taken in exchange for
Goods. MOSES STROUS.
Huntingdon, April 6,1859.
(71,,ROCERIES, &c., &e.—Call at the
IL:A cheap store of BENJ. JACOBS. All kinds of coun
try produce taken in exchange at the highest market pri
Old Books. Magazines, or publications of any kind,
ound to order, if left at
LEWIS' BOOK c STATIONERY STORE.
QT, VINCENT AND VISITATION
MANUALS, for sale at
LEIVLS' 1300 K, STATIONEBN AND MUSIC STORE.
'3 months. 6 months. 12 months.
....,$l. 50 $3 00 e 5 00
.... 3 00 500 700
.... 5 00 8 00 10 00
.... 7 00 10 00 15 00
....900 13 00 20 00
....12 00 16 00 ...... ....24 00
WILLIAM LEWIS, •
TO A DRUNKEN HUSBAND.
My husband, 'twas for thee I left
My own, my happy home;
For thee I left my cottage bowers,
With thee in joy to roam:
And where are all thy holy vows,
The truth, the love, the trust,
That won my heart ?—all scattered now,
And trampled in the dust.
I loved thee with love untold,
And when I stood beside
Thy noble form, I joyed to think
I was thy chosen bride.
They told me ere I was thine own,
HOW sad my lot would be;
I thought not of the future, then—
I only thought of thee.
I left my home, my happy home,
A sunny-hearted thing,
Forgetting that my happiness
A shadowing cloud might bring.
The sunny side of life is gone,
Its shadows only mine—
And thorns are springing in my heart,
'Where blossoms used to twine.
I do not blame thee for thy lot,
I only pray for thee,
That thou may'st from the tempter's power
(Oh, joyful thought!) be free;
That thou may'st bend above my grave,
With penitence sincere, .
And for the broken-hearted one,
Let fall a sober tear.
Senator Douglas in Ohio---His Passage
Through Ohio and his Receptions by
[From the Chicago (Ill.) Times.]
Senator Douglas having snatched a few
days' time from the cares of his family in
Washington, he consented, in response to the
invitation of the Democratic Executive Com
mittee of Ohio, to make a flying visit to that
State, where as our readers already know, he
has delivered a speech at Columbus and one
at Cincinnati; and met the people in hundreds
and thousands at other points on the line of
the railways. He has availed himself of this
brief absence to pay a hurried visit to Chica
go. He arrived here on Sunday morning. It
was reported throughout the city on Saturday
that he was expected to arrive that evening;
and at about the time of the arrival of the
train from Cincinnati, the people had assem
bled in crowds at his hotel to give him wel
come. And as soon as it was known that he
was actually here on Sunday morning, hun
dreds of his old friends and numbers of stran
gers in the city collected, completely filling
the Tremont House. The Senator looked in
fine condition—lie appearing • even younger
and more buoyant than ever—and received
the spontaneous greetings with all his accus
tomed ease, and in turn greeted such as called
on him with all his habitual freedom and
cordiality. All day yesterday the Tremont
House was thronged with people anxious to
pay him their respects and to express their
entire approval of his public course, and
their confidence of the success that is sure to
result to him and to the good cause. We
understand that he has declined to receive
any public demonstration, although he has
been importuned to appear formally before
the masses—he preferring to rest from his
labors for a few days preparatory to keeping
his appointment at Worcester, in Ohio, where
lie will speak on Friday next. But little rest
he will get, judging from the course of things
yesterday. As we have already intimated,
he has thus far been obliged to hold one con
tinued reception, night and day, speaking
almost literally, since his arrival. But as no
man can do this better than he, so he does it
with less effort and less fatigue. lie is al
ways glad to see the people—as the people
are delighted to see him and shake him by
the hand—so true is it that he who cham
pions the rights of the people will always
have the people's support.
And what we see here, has been witnessed
everywhere along the route from Washington.
Our readers are already familiar with what
demonstrations of respect and affection await
ed him on his arrival at Pittsburg; they have
read of the crowds that met him at the depot;
how they carried him, as if by force, to a
hotel, and demanded a speech ; and he spoke
to them the words of a patriot and a states
man. Pittsburg, a Pennsylvania city, was
ablaze with excitement. It was the same
everywhere else on the line of his travels.
The Democratic Executive Committee, of
Ohio, bad announced him to speak in Colum
bus—the capital of that great State—on
Wednesday. On his arrival he was met by a
committee of hundreds of citizens, with com
panies of the military and bands of music,
and escorted to his hotel. The multitude as
sembled to hear and see him was immense.
All the towns in the vicinity appeared to
have poured for the -occasion all their popu
lations into Columbus. This demonstration
was most complimentary to Senator Douglas;
and, considered other than in its personal as
pects, was most cheering to the cause of
sound Democracy. And the people of Co
lumbus responded to the sentiments of Sena
tor Douglas' speech in a manner that showed
that their hearts were in the work. The.
speech has been widely published already,
and is being answered from all sections with
the applause of a convinced and ready peo
ple. From Columbus, Senator Douglas star
ted for Cincinnati, where he had an appoint
ment to speak on Thursday. But the people
would not permit him to pass thus rapidly.
At every station on the Little Miami railway
crowds had assembled, and he was called out
with cheers, and at several places, where the
delay would admit of it. he was compelled to
make brief addresses.
At Dayton, being ill, be was obliged to
stop—but notwithstanding the state of his
voice and severe cold, he was not allowed to
depart until he had spoken here also. He
here surrendered himself into the hands of
the Democratic Executive Committee of Cin
cinnati, and left on Friday. The progress
thence to his place of destination was one
continued scene of triumphal reception. At
Hamilton, companies of artillery and bands
of music, with upwards of fifteen hundred
people, met him•at the station house, called.
him out, and he made a speech. And at
every railway station between Dayton and
Cincinnati, this, or something like this, was
At Cincinnati, Senator Douglas was re
ceived with a noble salute and a splendid
discharge of rockets. There was collected at
the depot, and in all the streets leading to it,
tremendous crowds of citizens—so dense, in
deed, was the multitude that it was next to
impossible for the committee and their dis
tinguished guest to make their way. A mag
nificent barouche, drawn by four horses, was
in readiness to receive Senator Douglas, and
soon he was moving towards the Barnet
House. He addressed the people in Court
square, which is fine and large, capable of
holding forty or fifty thousand persons.—
This immense space was filled and packed
He spoke for an hour and a half, eliciting at
frequent intervals the most enthusiastic shouts
of applause. At the close, rockets were sent
up, cannons were fired, and music was heard
throughout the city. Afterwards he was
given a serenade at his hotel. The next day
he visited various parts of the city, attend
ing the Mechanical and Horticulture fairs.
On Saturday night he left for Chicago.
At Lawrenceville, in Indiana, though it
was dark, hundreds of people bad assembled,
and he was greeted with music and a can
nonade. Bonfires lighted up the scene. At
Greensburg the people were all out, and not
withstanding it was raining at the time, he
made them a speech. When the train was
again in motion, cheers went up, and lasted
till it was out of sight. He reached India
napolis at midnight, and it was raining still;
but the crowd, which was dense and excited,
seized him and literally carried him out of
the cars to the American House, when he
spoke to;them•for ten minutes. When he was
again in the cars, the cheers, as in the other
cases, followed him till- he was beyond the
reach of the voices, which were indeed mul
Such is the account, unexaggerated and
simple, of the passage of Stephen A. Douglas
from Washington through Ohio to his home
in Chicago. Can there be any mistake as to
how the people feel ?
I am told you remember the late Lord Ers
" I remember him well, sir," was his reply.
"I knew him long before he was the great
man that he became. He was about nine or
ten years my senior. For a long time no one
knew who he was, and he used to go by the
name of the Rampant Madman. Most peo
ple were frightened at him, and the mothers
used to make a sort of Bogey of him to fright
en their refractory children."
" I'll send for that mad gentleman," they
would say. Ile staid in this very place where
you now are. lle never staid long at a time,
but he paid us a visit pretty often."
"What did he do that peoplethought him
" Do, sir ? Why he would stand at the
very edge of the cliff where the flag-staff now
is, and talk by the hour—sometimes for two
or three hours together ; and so loud would
he speak at times, that you might hear him
a quarter of a mile off, his right arm moving
above his head, and his left arm clenched
(The old man stood up and imitated the
great orator's attitude.)
" At low water he would go and stand on
those black rocks out yonder, and talk, seem
ingly to the waves. When he began he never
stopped till it was all over, and I have seen
the perspiration rolling down his forehead
even in cold weather. lie never kept his hat
on while he was speaking, but as soon as he
was done he would put it on, and sometimes
laugh heartily.. Ile used to talk like a man
who had something on his mind which he
could not divulge to his fellow-creatures ; and
yet he did not seem to care who heard him
speak. I and several otheryoung men have been
within six or seven yards of him, and although
he saw us, he took no more notice of us than
if we had been a parcel of sticks or stones,
and went on talking just the same. He had
been down here off and on for more than three
years before it was known that he was the fa
mous barrister, Erskine, and then it was only
by accident that we knew he was not mad."
" How ?"
"On one Sunday afternoon he brought
down with him a young gentleman, of about
twenty years of age, who walked about the
pier while Mr. Erskine was making a speech
out upon the rocks. One of the men on the
pier remarked to this young gentleman,
" What a pity such a fine man, and such a
pleasant man when he is calm, should be so
mad." Whereupon the young man roared
with laughter, and then let the cat out of the
bag, by saying who his friend was. It was
afterward that I and several others then here,
but gone to their account, came to know him
so well. And a right merry gentleman he
could be, too. Lord bless us, sir, swift as
time flies, it seems only as yesterday that he
would come done here say to us as he made
his way to the cliff, with his hands in his
breeches' pocket, and walking like a sailor,
(he had been in the navy, you know, sir,)
Come along, my lads, and be the jury ! I
am going to make another speech.' And a
most beautiful thing it was to listen to him."
" One minute he would make you laugh
heartily, and the pest moment he'd bring the
water into your eyes, .by the tender way . in
which he'd allude to a fading flower, or a sick
" There was one case in particular I re
member. It was an action brought against
a Mr. Somebody or other, by a lord's eldest
son, for carrying off his wife. It was most
beautiful—as we told him when he asked us
how we liked it. Blest if he didn't make out
as bow the defendant was the ill-used party,
and not the man as had lost his wife. Es
pensive-as traveling was in those days, five
of us went up to London to hear him deliver
that speech in court beforo the judps and the
HUNTINGDON, PA., SEPTEMBER 28, 1859.
A Reminiscence of Erskine.
regular sworn jury; and such a crowd as
there was of lords and gentlemen, to be sure !"
" And did he deliver that same speech ?"
" Yes. In parts it was a little different,
and some things were added ; but it was, in
the main, just what he had said standing out
on them rocks yonder. There was no silly
pride about Mr. Erskine, sir. As soon as
the case was over, and he was coming out of
court, his quick eye caught sight of us ; and
up he comes, puts out his hands to each of us,
and says, 'What ! you here my lads ? Well,
follow me.' And he walks off to an old pub
lic house near the court, called the Chequers,
and orders two bottles of port wine for us;
and while we were drinking it, explained to
us how it was not possible for him to win the
day ; and that all the effect his speech would
have, would be to reduce the damages. lie
was mighty pleased to hear himself praised,
and seemed just as proud of our approval as
anybody's else. I don't think, sir," contin
ued the old man, "that Mr. Erskine felt any
of the fine things he said in his speeches. It
was all acting with him; and Dr tell you
why I think so."
" One day he was walking along the sand,
spouting of poetry out of a book—he was
learning of it, for he read it over and over
again—and while he was doing so, he turned
up his eyes, shook his head and stretched
fortiais hand, in such a way that you might
have taken him for a street parson. It was a
most serious part of poetry. It was some
thing about 'Farewell the drums and fifes,
the banners and the big guns—and the plumes
and feathers, the cocked hats and swords, and
the virtuous wars and fair women—honors,
decorations and rewards. 0, farewell, every
thing I Alas, the poor fellow's occupation's
gone All of a sudden, sir, he shuts up the
book, claps it under his arm, whistles a jig,
and dances to it, and remarkably well, tuo,
did he come the double shuffle. Another
time, when he was reading poetry, I saw him
work himself up till the tears actually rolled
down his cheeks—and not two minutes after
wards he was playing at rounders with all
the little boys on the beach."
" And did Mr. Erskine know," I asked the
old smuggler, "that at first you all thought
he was mad I"
" Yes, and was very much amused at it."—
There is a man, a very strange man, among
the Sikhs of India, a Fakir or Faqueer, too
—one who gains his livelihood by putting on
the appearance of death, and suffering him
self to be buried for three, six or twelve
months, according to the Compact or agree
ment he enters into with his employers.—
This man, far from being a mountebank, is
held in extraordinary respect and veneration
by the Sikh people. The stories that are
told of this man are truly wonderful, and
try to sift the matter how you will, the mar
vel only increases. Both natives and Euro
peans are alike perplexed; every one in the
East has heard of his extraordinary powers
every means that the skeptical could employ
has been tried to detect the imposture which
has been suspected; but still his credit re
mains unshaken to the last. One of those
who have witnessed his prodigious feat, is
the political agent Loodianah,
who stood by when he was disinterred after
a burial of ten consecutive months, and his
body seemed then as it had seemed at first,
to be in a' state of suspended animation. In
this country it was considered a most won
derful thing, and very justly, when a dozen
years ago, a young Irishman allowed himself
to be locked up in a chamber for three weeks
and seals to be placed on the door and win
dow, and agreed to stay there in that confine
ment without meat or drink. This feat, as
far as could be seen, he did perform, accord
ing to the attestation of several medical gen
tlemen, writers for newspapers, and others.
But look at the difference. In the case of
this Indian, instead of the confinement in a
spacious room, the body is put into a bag is
tied up and sealed with several seals by men
of the highest credit and distinction. Then
it is put into a box, and the seals are again
applied to the •box. This, one would sup
pose, were test enough in all conscience. Not
at all. The box is put into a stone grave or
vault, then over that stone vault the earth is
completely thrown, and grain is sown in the
very sod which covers the living body of this
bold and marvelous experimentalist.
Reader, do you marvel ? What think you
of this ? If this be a really cunning man,
who fences with the sharp eyes and looks and
thought of five millions of people, and does
this for fifteen or twenty years without being
caught tripping, it cannot be denied that be
does his feat in a workmanlike way. Buried
for twelve months under ground, with corn
growing over his body ! How is he to enter
into collusion with his confederate in the trick,
if trick there be ? Men of the highest rank,
doubtful of his powers, and among these the
celebrated Runjeet Sing, have seen him buried
at the commencement, and have afterwards
been present when the body was taken up
after a suspended animation of twelve months'
continuance. As far as all human observa
tion could go, that extraordinary man had
lived without food, without drink, without
air, for the space of one entire year ; and
there he was, at the end of this singular ex
periment, alive again and hearty
This wonderful man is now about forty-five
years old, and enjoys all the ruddy health
that a vigorous body and sound constitution
can bestow. He is • always ready to repeat
his surprising performances—in fact he lives
by them. He gains his bread by living un
der ground in a close grave.
He says, that during the time he lies thus,
in a state of suspended animation, he has the
most beatific dreams that can be conceived.
These dreams are not like those of ordinary
men, but they are long, durable and contin
uous, full of incident and ramified intrigue,
like a well-written romance of many good
ly volumes. But those beautiful dreams are
never completed and brought to a close, be
cause he is in the very midst of them, when
the term of his probation comes, and the
earth is opened to restore him to the world.
.A Marvelous Story.
Editor _and Proprietor.
He does not regret the time he looses by
these interments, for the fictions of his teem
ing brain which pass through his fancy have
to him a far greater charm than real life.—
One day when the great Runjeet Sing, with
his favorite minister, and the several gran
dees of the Maharajah's court were convers
ing with him upon the subject of these extraor
dinary dreams and trying to form some idea
of a thing so marvelous, he described it very
happily by comparing it to one of those
musings, which every one has at times, when
the mind in full vigor indulges in the flow
of its inventions, and which are so agreeable
to the patient, that the most amiable and
kindest men are ready to denounce the offi
cious friend who rouses them from so ageea
ble a state of half-suspended consciousness.
• When the Fakir is taken up after a burial,
no pulsation can be felt t once the heart,
the wrist, and the templ." . re still ; there is
no breathing ; the body is not cold as a
corpse would be, but is cooler than that of
other living men, except over the seat of the
brain, which is feverishly hot and burning.
All the secretions are fully stopped, the nails
have ceased to grow, so have the hair and the
beard. He feels great dizziness at first, and
for a few hours cannot stand up without sup
port, and for several days he continues to
experience the sensation of a swing, or of
one just landed after a long voyage. But
gradually he recovers his health and good
spirits, and enjoys amazingly the wonder and
admiration he has excited.
The Sikhs look upon this man as a superi
or being, gifted with a supernatural faculty,
and they take great pride in his powers of
bodily endurance. After the disinterment,
they always exhibit the greatest joy, and cel
ebrate the occasion by the discharge of guns
and letting off fireworks.
The Rajahs and Sirdars, and other men of
state load him with presents. They do not
distrust him as we should do, but rather glory
in him as a specimen of the miraculous,
vouchsafed to their own privileged country.
He is said to be very rich, and is the only
rich man among the Sikhs who would dare
to be so long away from court, for fear of his
place being filled up durin,g , ..his absence.—
He is also the only one who does not suffer
the baleful effects of slander and calumny
when out of view; for, as his peculiar merit
does not interfere with the progress of
other men, they leave him unmolested in his
One sleeper corrupts the atmosphere of the
room by his own breathing, but when two
persons are breathing at the same time,
twelve or fourteen times in a minute, extract
ing all the nutriment from a gallon of air,
the deterioration must be rapid indeed, es
pecially in a close room. A bird cannot live
without a large supply of fresh air. Many
infants are found dead in bed, and it is at
tributed to having been overlaid by its pa
rents ; but the idea that any person could lay
for a moment on a baby or anything else of
the same size, is absurd. Death was caused
by the want of pure air.
The most destructive typhoid and putrid
fevers are known to arise directly from a
number of persona living in the same small
Those who cannot afford it, should there
fore arrange to have each member of the
family sleep in a separate bed. If persons
must sleep in the same bed, they shoAk be
about the same age, and in good health. If
the health be much unequal, both will suffer,
but the healthier one the most, the invalid
suffering for want of an entirely pure air.
So many cases are mentioned in standard
medical works, were healthy, robust infants
and the largest children have dwindled
away, and died in a few months from sleep
ing with grandparents or other old persons,
that it is useless to cite instance in proof.
It would be a constitutional and moral good
for married persons to sleep in adjoining
rooms, as a general habit. It would be cer
tain means of physical invigoration, and of
advantages in other directions, which will
readily occur to the reflective reader.
Kings and queens and the highest person
ages of courts have separate apartments. It
is the bodily eminations collecting and con
centrating under the same cover, which are
most destructive of health, more destructive
than the simple contamination of an atmos
phere breathed in common.—Hall's Journal
TUE VALUE OF A LOTTERY PRIZE.-A New
Orleans letter in the Charleston (S. C.) Cour
ier, relateS an incident which illustrates in a
striking manner the evil that may be pro
duced by ono lottery ticket. A young man
of good family in New Orleans, who is pas
sionately fond of gambling, was playing cards
with considerable ill-luck, and as a last throw,
having lost all his money, staked a lottery
ticket. He lost. After the game was over,
the winner having no faith in lotteries, pro
posed to throw dice for it, at twenty-five cents
a chance. A bystander, "a poor fellow who
never owned a hundred dollars in his life,"
accepted the offer and won the ticket. A few
days afterwards the Havana steamer arrived,
and lo I the ticket had drawn $25,000. The
original owner, who had thus thrown away a
fortune, on hearing the news was taken with
an attack of brain fever, and is even now in
a sad condition; it is feared he will remain
an idiot. The lucky drawer of the prize im
mediately infested -a round sum in an assort
meht of flashy jewelry and garments, and has
been leading ever since a life of continued
revelry ; he has become a fast man, and is
following fast the road to ruin. The disbe
liever in lotteries cannot forgive himself, and
whenever he meets a friend stops him and
tells him the story. It has become such a
mania with him that his friends avoid him
and turn the corner as soon as they see him
coming. He has had several quarrels at the
gaming table, where the sight of the cards
inevitably brings the oft-told tale to his lips.
This one prize in a lottery has made one man
an idiot, started another on the road to ruin,
and crazed a third. *terrible price far one
As a little boy sat looking at his mother
one day, he said,
" Grandpapa will be in heaven I Mary
will be in Heaven ! Baby is in heaven I"-_
Here the child paused and looked very sol
" Well, dear," said the mother, " what
about mamma ? Will not mamma be in
" Oh I no, no."
"Why do you say so ?" asked the mother,
" 0, you do not pray, so you will not go to
" Yes, my dear, I do ; I often pray for
you when you do not see me—very often, in
" Ah," said he, " I never saw you ; then
kneel down, and let me hear if you can
The mother knelt by her child, and prayed
aloud for herself and little one, and that day
learned a lesson she never will forget.
Mother I are you going to heaven ? Do
your little ones think you are going, by all
they observe in your conduct ? Are you
leading them in the way to heaven ? Do
they often hear your voice going up to the
throne of God for them ? Those who do not
pray on earth, may pray when the earth has
passed away, and their prayer then will not
be answered. The rich man prayed for one
drop of water—a very small request—but he
did not obtain the boon he asked. May you
be anxious to pray now that your prayer
may be heard and answered.
The article on " Death," in the New Cyclo
pedia, has the following
As life approaches extinction, insensibility
supervenes—a numbness and disposition to
repose, which does not admit to the idea of
suffering. Even in those cases where the ac
tivity of the mind remains to the last, and
where nervous sensibility would seem to con
tinue, it is surprising how often there has
been observed a happy state of feeling on the
approach of death. "If I bad strength
enough to hold a pen, I would write how easy
and delightful it is to die," were the last
words of the celebrated William Hunter, du
ring his last moments. Montaigne, in one of
his essays, describes an accident which left
him so senseless that he was taken up for
dead. On being restored, however, ho says
"Bethought my life only hung upon my lips;
and I shut my eyes to help to thrust it out,
and took a pleasure in languishing and let
ting myself go."
A writer in the London (hear/crib, Review,
records that a gentleman who had been res
cued from drowning, declared that he had
not experienced the slightest feeling of suffo
cation. The stream was transparent, the
day brilliant, and as he stood upright be could
see the sun shining through the water, with
a dreamy consciousness that his eyes were
about to be closed on it forever. Yet he nei
ther feared his fate nor wished to avert it.--
A sleepy sensation which soothed and grati
fied him made a luxurious bed of a watery
EXPERIENCES OF I3IPRISON3IENT.—The fol
lowing is an extract from Count Goulfallco
nier's account of his imprisonment :
" Fifteen years I existed in a dungeon ten
feet square ! During six years I had a coin
panion ; during nine I was alone ? I never
could rightly distinguish the face of him who ,-
shared my captivity, in the eternal twilight
of our cell. The first year we talked inces
santly together; we related our past lives our
joys forever gone, over and over again. The
next year we communicated to each other our
thoughts and ideas on all subjects. The third
year we had no ideas to communicate ; we
were beginning to lose the power of reflection,
The fourth, at an interval of a month or two,
we would open our lips to ask each other if
it were possible that the world went on as gay
. as when we 'formed a portion
of mankind. The fifth we were silent. The
sixth he was taken away—l never knew where
—to execution or liberty. But I was glad
when he was gone ; even solitude was better
than the pale, vacant face. One day (it must
have been a year or two after my companion
left me) the dungeon door was opened; whence
proceeding I know not, the following words
were uttered : "by order of his imperial
majesty, I intimate to you that your wife died
a year ago." Then the door was shut, and I
heard no more ; they had but flung this great
agony upon me, and left me alone with it."
A FAMINE AMONG THE BEARS.—The fact
that an unusually large number of bears
have made their appearance in many sections
of Virginia and Pennsylvania this season has
heretofore been referred to. The Rocking
ham (Va.) Register says : There is said to ba
little or no mast in the mountain this season,
The consequence is that bears are becoming
exceedingly troublesome in the settlements,
They have come down from their retreat in
the mountains, and are playing sad havoc;
with corn fields, cattle and sheep. Mr. Seri
ger, living near Mole Hill, in this county,
had several cattle killed by the animals near
the Richlands, a few days ago. Mr. Joha
Miller, living near Hoover's Mill, on the
South Fork, in Pendleton county, also had a
number of sheep—about half his flock—
killed in the same way a short time since.—
They are also destroying the corn fields with
in their range. The fields of Messrs. David
Gladwell and Peachy Gordon, three or four
miles from Rawley Springs; show marks of
the teeth of the half-starved bears coming
down into the settlements.
THE TONGITE.—Let us often deny the tongue.
"No man speaks safely," says a great saint,
"but he who is silent willingly." It is im—
possible for persons to talk as fast and as much
as they do without folly and sin. We talk
too much. If we doubt this, let us think far
a moment how little we say which is worth
saying, how much that does harm to others
or ourselves, and then we cannot doubt it
again. We talk too much. When, then,
we are incited to talk rapidly, let us cheek
ourselves, partly to prevent our saying what
we should afterwards repent of, and partly
to give ourselves perfect command over any
motion unless we can bid it stop as well as
go on. It is quite as needful in taming a
horse, to teach him to pause at our bidding
as to move on. Let us learn then to com
mand our tongues by denying them, by not
speaking at times when we are tempted to
do so, and thus obtaining a victory and pow
er over this unruly member.
gar A Brooklyn lady accompanied a lit
tle beggar girl to her home and left five dol
lars to help to pay the funeral expenoes of
the child's father, whose coffin stood in the
corner of the room ; but coming back una
wares to get her handkerchief, she found that
the dead man had revived, and was scrutini
sing the bill to make mire that it was a good
OAT' True modesty is a discerning grace,
hints to a Prayerleas Mother.
The Approach of Death.