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rfil
HUNTINGDON, PA'
CHARITY.
When you meet with one suspected
Of some secret deed of shame,
And for this by all rejected
Asa thing of evil fame,
Guard thine every look end action,
Speak no words of heartless blame,
Tor the slanderer's vile detraction,
Yot may soil thy goodly name.
When you meet with one pursuing
Ways the .lost have wandered in,
Working out hid own undoing,
With his recklessness and sin ;
'Think, if placed in his condition,
, Would a kind word he in vain?
.a look of cold suspicion,
Win thee back to truth again?
'here bit tots that bear no flowers,
Not because the soil is bad,
But the summer's genial showers
NeVer make their bosom glad;
'Better have an act that's kindly
Treated sometimes with disdain,
Thari byjudging others blindly,
Doom the innocent to pain.
COQUETRY AND RETRIBUTION.
The south winds blew gently through
the branches of the stately old elm
and pine trees in the beautiful park
owned by Judge Auburn, whose man,
sion was situated on the outskirts of
s beautiful village in the eastern part
of Pennsylvania. On that calm, warm
evening might have. been seen, seated
in - the little summer house in the above
mentioned Park with a volume of
Tennyson's poems in her lap, beautiful
Viola Auburn, Judge Auburn's niece
and the belle and coquette of the vil
lage. She was in deep reverie. I fear
my pen would fail me if I were 'to at.
tempt to give my readers a description
.of her as she appeared in her evening
wrappir. Suffice. to say, that her jet
Meek hair, which fell in long curls
ground her shoulders, her fairy-like
form and winning ways had wrought
for her eimntless admirers. Among
the most ardent of theSe were Eugene
Montour and Harry Worthington.—
Viola was started from the reverie in
to:Whieli She hail fallen by a rustling
of the bushes on the outside, and the
next moment she was face to face with
a young lieutenant—EugeneModtour.
"Good evening, darling," said he,
taking:her proffered hand. "How is
my little one?"
"Very well, I thank you. Why, Mr.
Montour, you look like the hero of
many battles already, with those regi
mentals on." •
"No flattery, darling."
"Indeed, it is n:t flattery in the
least." •
A. few more commonplace remarks
were made, when Eugene seated him
self by her aide, and, taking her hand
in his,'said—
"Viola, the train which will carry
sne to my regiment, a few miles below
here, will be duo in a few moments,
therefore, what I wish to , say must he
said in a few words. Our regiment
leaves the day after tomorrow for
Washington, and I could not go away
and leave you without once more ask
ing you to be my wife. I have al—
ready. asked you twice, but I will ven
ture it the third time. Yomlittle dream
how dear you are to me, and what a
great pleasure it will be to me to
knew, while on the battle-field, that
when I return it will be to claim you
as a bride."
'Be paused. He saw that she was
about going to speak, but he inter—
yupted her, saying—
"l fear your answer. If you love
me as I love you, you will not blast
my future happiness."
Viola rose and, facing him, said—
" Well, Mr. Montour, I may as well
ibe frank with you, I do love you,
abut I am engaged to another."
How harshly those words grated on
the brave young lieutenant's ears; and,
just as ho was going to ask who was
his rival, a third party appeared on
iho scene. It was Harry Worthing
ton.
"I hope I do not intrude."
"Oh! not in the least. On the eon
trary;wo are glad to see you;" she
'said, advancing and taking his proffer
ed hand.
Thu two gentlemen were then in
troduced to each other, and, after a
few remarks were made about the
evening, the war, and a few other sub
jects, Lieutenant Montour wished his
companion a good night, left them
with a sad heart and downcast spirit,
and wended his way to tho village de
pot, there to get on board the train
that would carry him to regiment;
but what, was his surprise to find that
the only occupants of the train were
a few of his feliow officers, who in
formed WM OA this train was to car
ry their regiment southward. The
next driy found our hero . in Washing—
ton, awaiting farther orders.
feet us return to our heroine, whom
4^ co
. 1 00
WILLIAM LEWIS, Editor and Proprietor.
VOL. XX,
we left in company with Harry Worth
ington.
"Viola," he said, after they had con
versed for somo time, "tell mo what
Mr. Mont Our is to you?"
"Why," she said, with a laugh and
a coquettish toss of the head, "we aro
betrothed to each other !"
"Viola, I have long hoped to win
your love, and somo day to call you
my own. I havo long loved you, and
now that I know that you can bo no
more to me ; the world will be dark at
best. Miss Auburn, I hope you *ill
allow the to see you home, as the even
ing is getting quite dark."
"No; I thank you. Ido not wish
to put you to so much trouble, and I
love to bo out after dark by myself."
"Then I will have to bid you good
evening, for I have made an engage
ment that must be fulfilled," he said,
.
rismg and taking hor hand.
"I hope we part as. friends, Mr
Worthington ?"
"Yes, as friends ; but nothing Moro."
So saying, he left hor.
"Oh ! the simpleton," she said, after
ho bad gone, "to think that I would
bind myself to a confounded husband!
No, indeed. When I want a husband,
I'll let them know. Two more lovers
struck from my long list; yet it is still
long enough. Why, I'll have a dozen
offers yet before the month is out!
But what do I care ? I can tell them
all the same tale I have told to-night.
And then, tosoe them whinee, as though
a shell had exploded at their feet. Oh!
it is so dramatical I But still, in the
long list of my admirers, I believe
that Eugene Montour receives tho lar
ger portion of my affections and if the
truth were known, I believe I love
him, and I almost wish I had accepted
of his offer instead of tolling hint
was engaged. - But....stilllUß not_ too
late. When ho comes home from the
I will tell him how I deceived
him, and then I will set my cap for
him in earnest."
So saying, she flirted out of her re•
treat and started for home. In the
garden she met her uncle.
"Ah ! you little truant! I was get
ting alarmed at your absence, and
was coming to hunt you."
"Oh! never fear me, uncle. I have
been having a splendid time with my
lovers, you know, uncle."
"Yes, I know," he said, as he re
turned to his library, while Viola pass
ed on to her bed chamber, there to
dream of her many lovers.
The following morning, as Judge
Auburn was perusing the columns of
the village newspaper, his oyo caught
sight of a paragraph headed "Sui•
cido," and at the same moment ho
heard Viola's merry voice in the gar
den. Calling her into him, he said—
" Listen to this: 'Last night, about
10 o'clock, the dead body of Harry
Worthington was found in the out
skirts of the village. He was shot
through the heart. A pistol was found
on his person, so that it is supposed
he came to his death by committing
suicide..'"
The horror that was depicted on
Viola's face on hearing this can be
bettor, imagined them described.
"What can be the cause of this?"
asked her uncle.
"indeed, icannot tell. Why, it, was
only last evening I saw Mr. Worth
ington in very good spirits." . •
No more was then said on the sub
ject. Both were too busy with their
own thoUghts on the sad occurronce
to give utterance to speech, and Vio
la soon retired to her own room, there
to give way to grief in a flood of
tears, for well she knew what was the
cause of Harry Worthington's death.
But, after the first shock was over,
she, seemed to pay very little atten
tion to the melancholly occurrence,
and was soon busy carrying on her old
tricks of coquetry.
• A dreadful battle had been fought,
and the papers containing long lists
of the killed and wounded; and, one
evening, as Viola was looking over one
of those lists, her eye cought the name
of "Lieutenant Eugene Montour, kill
ed." One - shriek was all that escaped
from her lips; and her uncle, on rush
ing into•the room, found her in a state
of insensibility.
He carried her to her room. A
physician was summoned, who pro
nounced her in a very critical condi
tion. After this, days and Reeks of
delirium followed, and the only utter
ance to which she gave vent was—
" Eugene, Eugene ! how I loved
you and cruelly' wronged you I"
She finally recovered; bqt ell of her
coquettish ways left her, and she refu
ses to receive the attention of any of
her late admirers. She says that her
love is buried in the grave of Eugene
Montour, whom she so cruelly wrong
ed; 'and she has never frequented that
summer house since the night she re
fused to accept of the offer of the only
Man she ever loped:
Writtonfor the Philadelphia Bulletin
Battle Incidents of the Scriptures.
Abigail or Female Influence,-1 et SAM
UEL; XXVI..
The government of the heart at one
time is no pledge of its subsequent sub
mission. The hero who saved the life
of Saul when anger whispered, Slay
hirh, now arms his band to make a do
scent upon Nabal to sweep him and his
household from the earth. The pro
tection extended by David and his men
to the flocks of Nabal, laid the latter
undersolemn obligations to - reciprocate
both'sympatby and benefit, and when
he proved false to duty, vengeance
awoke against him, and with justice
for its stimulant, was about to act,
when Providence overruled it. If any
class of mon are worthy of our love,
and if to any wo should extend a
princely hospitality it is surely they
whose vigilance and military skill se
cure to us the enjoyment of our fire
side comforts and the tranquil leisure
to prosecute our plans. Parsimony
toward such would be a double wrong.
This however, Nabal inflicted. Abi
gail, his wife, when apprised cf it and
also of the hostile demonstrations of
David, advanced to meet him with an
abundant supply of the choisest food ;
timid, indeed, but still hopeful and
building much for her final success in
the known chivalry and gallantly of his
character to appease whose anger was
her prayerful aim. In this generous
supply prepared by the good Abigail,
for the hungry and thirsty soldiers of
David, we have almost a foe-simile of
that care for the bodily wants of the
patriot soldier which has characterized
woman in all ages, and never more
than in the.presout gigantic war. Ten
der by nature, and moulded in the
school of sensibility, the desolate con
aitawa soldi er, whether in ser
vice or in the hospilil al sv2tts—te trot
heart and enlists her feeling most
profoundly. The manhood too, which
perils all for country, develops that
veneration which some might call a
romantic ardor of interest, but which
the physchologist knows to bean integ
ral sentiment of womanhood, fatal,
sometimes, when it prompts her to lose
sight of the vices of the man in his
palpable heroism, and to link her fate
with one who is unworthy of her alli
ance. As we see Abigail spreading
out her profuse gifts, her broad and
corn, and sheep all dressed, and figs
and raisins and skins filled with wine,
wo seem to be transported to an ori.
ental refreshment saloon, where a good
Jewish female has anticipated a mod
ern invention and antedated our own
beneficence. The bustling scenes which
must have followed the stir of distrib
uting the food and drink, her servants
moving about and acting as waiters
and almoners, the glee and harmony
which prevailed among the soldiers
where the banquet was enli , oned by
the presence of a beautiful and cultur
ed woman amid her galaxy of female
servants, each fascinating and courte
ous, anxious to please and gentle in
active ministrations, all this must have
formed.a tableau beneath that Syrian
sky only to bo surpassed when regi
ments of hungry men have filed from
the steamboat or the car into the ca
pacious saloon where the. women of
Philadelphia have emulated their Jew
ish sister Abigail, and proved that the
female heart in every clime and in all
ages is turned to one common key of
disinterested love and prompt and will
ing sympathy. We have drawn this
picture to fill out the Bible vacum, for
although wo are told that David dis
missed to her .abode, Abigail and her
train after his polite reception of her
gifts, we aro not unwarranted in the
belief that the brevity of Bible sketch
es is the only cause for the omission of
this pleasant episode. Apart from this
hospitality of woman we have to look
upon her as the persuasive agent to
moderato the auger of the soldier and
to inculcate clemency even in the be
half of the offending. As among the
ancient Germans we are told by Tami
-1 tus that the presence of the females in
the army stimulated their husbands
and sons to barbaric war, - and men
fought like demons When urged for
ward by the cries and exhortations of
the visible corps of wives and sisters
who loomed within sight from first to•
last, nor intermitted their shrieks and
wailings till the die was thrown which
•
consigned them to slavery or gave
them back to the arms of those they
dearly loved; so now our women both
act as stimulants to the patriotism of
our soldiery, and on the other and
moderate t.he vengeance which wa,r
would inflict on the foe. The tender
voice of Abigail kept back David from
a deed . of indiscriminate retaliation
which would have involved her whole
innocent household along with pars
onions and churlish Nabal, her napon
gonial• mate. Reasoning and argii-
sto ,
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 1865.
-PERSEVERE.-
mont from a man would not have our
bed the fiery soul of David. It re
quired the soft hand of Abigail as in
the case of the Corsican Napoleon it
demanded the heavenly influence of
Josephiae,that angel in mortal drapery,
to tranquilize the maddened 'Mho of
that usurper of the universe. And
well is it arranged by Heaven that for
every Hector there is an Andromache
and that female dissuasion can rebut
the precipitancy of manhood. The
whole barbaric character of the South
in its treatment of_, the wounded, its
insults to the dead, and its demonism
to the defenceless and the NV, e ak has boon
the on tgrowth of female influence. Had
that influence been on the side of hu
manity, no sectional antipathy could
have withstood her omnipotent appeal
for clemency. Pride, vengeance, scorn,
malignity, would have melted into mist
before her one tearful look 61 kind re
monstrance, her one appealing gesture
of deprecation and of entreaty. And
that she did not so act proves how de•
basing is the influence of slavery, how
it dwarfs our interest in humanity,
how it robs the female soul of its most
characteristic feature, the lenity that
shields - even a foe, when that foe is
disarmed and helpless:. We cannot but
think that the unparalleled atrocities of
the South have resulted from the fact
that not one gentle Abigail has blest
their clime. A cause which can thus
metamorphose the gentler sex and take
them from the sweet calm temperature
of mercy to plunge them into the tem
pestuous depths of partisan malignity
is a cauve the espousal of which is
enough to shame the most unblushing.
Say not that men will spulln this con
trol of woman, Soo David in his
phrenzy sheathe his sword, because
grace and beauty and pet snasion wove
his silken not of thralldom. And never
would men in a civilized clime have
- cfrrod ttottn-cottrttev-t-o4fle4hx- ii .
mas of military courtesy and human
ity had the leaven of combined female
influence been more salutary in its
character. Ediets of the State might
have enforced the most hellish cruel
ties, pulpits haVe - desecrated the sweet
spirit of the gospel by giving to cold
blooded persecution the garb of equity,
poetry might have wedded the lyre to
a deification of all that was vindictive,
but woman even now has only to lay
her soft hand vn all such agencies and
say to man, "For my sake repudiate
their adoption, for iny sake break fro in
their control," and like the clay in the ,
hand of the potter, he would bear her
impress before ho had felt the weight
of the gentle seal which had produced
it, and burst forth as a hot•house plant
in an efforesconce of warmth and geni
ality, while scarcely conscious of the
sun of beauty whose ray had been so
I silent yet so morally potential.—Rev..
Edward C. Jones, A. AL'
Learning the Currency.
Of all the close dealers among us,
the Dutchmen live on the least, and
shave the' closest. It is astonishing
how soon they learn our currency. A
good thing occurred, however, a few
days since, with a keeper of a small
"Lager Peer" saloon, in this neighbor.
hood, who undertook to teach hi 3 as
sistant, a thick-headed sprout of "Pad
erland," the difference between "five.
pence".and "six-pence."
"You see, John, do piece mit de vo
mans ish de five ponce, and do piece
mitout de vomans ish de six-pence."
"Yah !" said John, with a dull twin
kle of intelligence.
A wag of a loafer, who overheard
tho lecture, immediately conceived the
idea of a "saw" and "Lager Bier"
gratis, for that day at.loast. Procur
ing a three cent piece, ho watched the
departure of the "boss," and going up
to John, he called for a mug of "bier,"
throwing down the coin and looking
as if he expected his change. John
who remembered his recent lesson,
took up the piece, and muttering to
himself :
"Mitout de vomans—'fish von six
pence," handed over three coppers
change.
How often the aforesaid wag drank
that day, we know not, it depended
upon his thirst and the number of
Limes he could exchange throe cop.
pers for three cent pieces; but, when
the "boss" came home at night, the
number of small coin astonished him.
"Vat ish dose, John; you take so
many ?".
"Six-pence !" replied John, with a
peculiar satisfied leer.
"Six-pence! Dander and blitzen !
You take all deao for six-pence ? Who
from ?"
"Do man mit,p,oard liko Kossuth; ho
dhilink all day mit himself."
' "Der teufoll You give change evo
ry time?
• "Y
-a-h !" said John, with a vacant
stare.
"Der teufelc atch de Yaukoes," was
All the astonished Dutchman could
i
i
~
I
:
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ME
A Rebel Editor on Northern Polities.
Mr. Edward Pollard, of the Rich
mond Examiner, who was for a long
time a prisoner at Fort Warren, sub
sequently released on parole, and fi
nally exchanged, publishes in that pa
per, a long account of what ho saw and
heard in the North, while at large in
Now York and elsewhere. Mr. Pol
lard declares that the radical peace
party at the North has never been
considerable in numbers or influence,
although there are very many who
wish the war to, be stopped. Many of
the leaders of the democratic party
are at the bottom pence men, but find
it necessary to maintain their influ
ence "to use the pretence of 'Consti
tutional Union' to catch the fools who
believe in the possibility of such a
thing, an example," Mr. Pollartl adds,
"not only of Yankee newspaper mor
al, but a damning evidence of the in
coherence and rottonnessof the so-call
ed Democratic party in the North,
which finds each base equivocation
necessary to sustain it."• While this
is true, however, Mr. Pollard thinks
there can be no doubt whatever that
at the Lime of the Chicago Convention
"the Democratic party in the North
had prepared a secret programme o
operations, the final and inevitable
conclusion of which was the acknowl•
edgment of the independence of the
Corfederate States." Ho says:
It was proposed to get to this con
clusion by distinct and successive steps,
so its not to alarm too much the Union
sentiment of the country. The first step
was, to bo the proposition of . the "Un•
ion as it was," in a Convention of, the
States; if that was voted down, then
the proposition of a new principle of
federation, limetod to the foreign re
cations and to the revenue; if that was
rejected, then the proposition of an
p rose rye,
as far as possible, by an extraordinary
league, the American prestige; and if
all these propositions, intended as suc
cessive tests of the spirit of the South,
wore to fail, tlien at last the indepen
dence of the Confederate States, made
sine qua non,was to be conceded by the
Democratic party of the North, as the
last resort of pacification, and the one
of two alternatives_ where their choice
could no longer hesitate. It will be
seen from this sketch of the program
mo that the design of the Democratic
party was to get the North on the
naked issue of war and separation.
This plan, as everybody knows, ut
terly failed; the Democratic party went
to pieces, and may now be considered,
according to Mr. Pollard, as having
practically disappeared from the polit
ical arena. The disclosures he makes,
however, as to the purpose of the par
ty are no less valuable because of past
failure ir. their execution. We see
that the pretence of devotion to the
Union, so ostentatiously maintained
by the leaders and managers of that
party, was a mere cover for a policy
contemplating an abandonment of the
vital objects of the war. and in that
discloseure may find a warning
against committing power in the fu
ture to the men thus engaged in plot
ting the downfall of the national hon
or. •
Mr. Pollard is very severe upon
those professed friends of the South
who, with all their expressions of
sympathy, sit indolently in cushioned
chairs and do nothing. Tho South, ho
says, does not want any - such "vague
and fruitless commisreation;" she asks
for her rights, not "for the half-peace
and broken dishes of Northern phil
anthrophy." Mr. Pollard is 'equally
severe upon the Southern refugees
who throng our Northern cities,
characterizing them as "the most con
temptible of creatures." He says upon
this point, and his statement in ref
erence to the operations in gold of this
class of people, is worthy of attention:
"There are hundreds and thousands
of these symphathetic absentees who in
the spirit of the sheerest cowardice
and the grossest selfishness exploit
their Southern 'patriotism' in the gar
ish hotels of New York, and are try
ing to pass their time pleasantly
among the creature comforts of Yan
keedom, while the beloved people of
the Boutb are left to take for them
selves all the privations of the war.
Many of them live extravagantly; not
a few gamble in the gold rooms. And .
thesorefugees, doughfaced adventures,
fugitives from the conscription, and
cowards of every stripe, who are bloat
ing and pampering themselves in Yen
-499c10m, talk 'secesh' as loudly and as
bravely in the New York Hotel as in
the Spottswood at Richmond." •
These vagabond refugees, Mr. Pol
luyd observes, are invariably the tru
peters of Jeff. Davis, and. aro it is inti
mated, his agents and emissaries.
was these men, doubtless, Who stimii
lated tlio late' attemvt to burn down
TERMS, $2,00 a year in advance.
New York;:whe helped to foment the
terrible riots in that city A year and
a half ago,. and who are constantly
engaged in movements of one kind
and another for promoting the rebel
cause. Notwithstanding these varied
services, heWever, the fact• that they
are' avoiding the hardships of life
within the rebel lines, and living
sumptuously while their fellow rebels
are suffering every privation and
want, appears to offend Mr. Polard's
scrupulous tastes, and he menacingly
declares•
The "sympathizers" the - writer has
described may well dread a party in
the South sworn to uphold the stand
ards of citizenship and society in the
Confederacy, pledger: to disown thorn
when their tardy steps shall be turned
toward our liberated country, and
jealously resolved to preserve the
fruits of our independence for those
who have watered them with thier
blood, or brought them to their per
factions, by unwearied labor and sin
cere solicitude.
Sizing Down the Ages of Mai.
The man that dies youngest as might
be expected; perhaps, is the railway
bralresman. His average age is only
27. Yet this must be taken with some
allowance, from the fact that hardly
any but young and active men are
employed in this capacity. At the
same age dies the factory workwoman,
through the combined influence of con•
fined air, sedentary posture, scant wa
ges and unremitting toil. Then comes
the railway baggage man, who is
smashed on an average at 30. Millin
ers and dressmakers live but very lit
tle longer. The average of the one
is 32 and the other 33. The en
gineer, the fireman, the conductor, the
powder maker, the well digger and the
factory operative, all of whom aro ex
posed to sudden and violent deaths,
die on an average under the age of
35. The cutler, the dyer, the leather
dresser, the apothecary, the confec
tioner, the cigar maker, the printer,
the silv . ersmith, the painter, the shoo
cutter, the engraver and the machin
ist, all of whom load confined lives, in
an unwholesome atmosphere do net
reach the average age of 40. The musi
cian blows his breath all out of his
body at 40.
~T hen comes trades that
are active, or in a pure air. The baker
lives to an average age' of 43, the
butcher to 49, the brickmaker to 47,
the carpenter to 49, the furnace man
to 43, the mason to 48, the stone cut
ter to 43, the tanner to 49, the tin
smith to 41, the weaver to 44, the dro•
ver to 40, the cook to 45, the inn-keep
er to 46, the laborer to 44, the domes
tic servant [female] to 43, the tailor
to 43, the tailoress to 41. Why should
the barber live till 50, if not to show
the virtue there is in personal neat
ness and soap and water? Those
who average over ludfa century among
mechanics aro those who keep their
muscles and lungs in health and mod
erate exercise and not troubled with
weighty cares. The blacksmith ham
mers till 51, the cooper to 52, and the
wheelright.till 50. The miller lives to
be whitened with the age of 61: The
ropemaker lengthens the thread* of
his life to 65; merchants, wholesale
and retail, to 62. Professional men
live longer than is generally supposed.
Litigation kills clients, sometimes, but
seldom lawyers, for they average 55.
Physicians prove their usefulness by
prolonging their own lives to the same
period. The sailor averages 43, the
caulker 64, the sailmaker 52, the ste
vedore 55, the ferryman 65, and the
pilot 64. A dispensation of Provi
dence that "Maine, Law" men may
consider incomprehensible is, that
brewers and distillers live to the ripe
old age of 64. Last and longest liv
ed come, paupers, 67, and "gentlemen,"
68. The only two classes that do
nothing for themselves and live on
their neighbors, outlast all the rest.
" HERE'S YOUR MULE 1"--11 was in
the battle of - Stone River a raw Hoos
ier recruit in one of Grose's regiments
got very much interested in the fight.
He had been long enough in the army
to learn its slang; and he used, it zeal
ously. The fellow fought like a tiger.
He loaded in a good deal less than
"nine times," and fired wherever ho
could see a head. His whole soul was
in it. Every time he leveled and fired
lie. shouted ; "Here's your mule," snap
bang, "here's your mule I" At about
the 'twentieth round a rebel aharpshoo
tor struck him in the left arm, Be
looked at the Troutidwith einanefnent,
and, with a sort of spasm, ejaculated,
"they've shot me!" Laying down his
musket carefully, and stripping off his
accoutrements, he also laid them down
deliberately, and ran to the rear with
frantic opergy.. It was evidaut. that
"here's your naulc" had. stampeded.
1 1".1 -IM
JOB PRINTING OFFICE,
rip.H.E• "GLOBE JOB - OFFICE!' is
the inoat corcibliste
reggae tho moat ample facilities for promptly exert:Milt .;*
tho bed 'kilo, ovary rarloty of Job Printing, ouch no;
RAND BILLS„
• . •... - •
_ 'PROGRAMMES, • ••
BLANKS. •
CARDS,
CIRCULARS;
BALL TICKETS,
' LABELS, &0., &C.,. 840
CAL?. ANA ELLIS= OPECMIEPO OP 'WOOS,
AT LEWIS' SOON, STATIONERY k MUSIC STORE
NO. 3L
How the Chinese Dig Coal.
It is always curious:to' ltnbw how••
they do thingsin the Celestial Empire,
the land of pig-tails, little feet and al
mond eyes. They are not a sloiv peo-.
pie; but - ingenious,i foxy, patient,--en
during and industrious; they achieVe.
wonders for an Oriental `nation, and a.,
race hampered by iron conventional
ities. The manner of their* coal inim:
ing is well describeclin the appended
article from an Anglo-Chinese paper :.
" The only coal mines in China of
which wo httve any account 4r.e. - lina - 7
ted about five mileanorth of .1.61r-affarts.:
kau; and not far 'from the city.Of Pe- •
kin The editor of the Chinese' Mail
recently visited these mines, and•reakee,
the following report,whicliWill , be
teresting, as • showing the natinner''lrc
which the Chinese carry 'err • Mining
operations•at home. There's:re: but
fifteen shafts o_ pen; each en=.
trances being enlarged into a'..rocim,,
where the colliers eat and eleep, at
times, though more comfortable dwe . l 7
Tinge have been built for overSeeraand!
contractors. We engaged a miner to.
show us down the large shaft, - which
measured on tho average only form wait
half feet high by five feet wide; it
cased with willow weeds in a • Baehr°
manner, and the roof is particularly
well guarded: Tho bottom is lined
with the same to form a ladder,, up
and down which the miners travel iu
their daily labor. This shaft isabont
150 feet deep, and the ladder down to.
the diggings, perhaps, 6000 feet
long. Tho coal is secured on smell
wooden 'sledges, and drawn as tho
nor slowly crawls up,along the_ - narrow
and slippery steps, by a strap passing
over his forehead, each load weigh
ing eighty eatties. One workman
brings up six loads as his day's work..
The sides of this shaft showed the
width of the veins of Coal, but the top,
and bottom were not dug out.
whole was very dry, owing probably'
to its elevation up the hill; but' some
shafts had been abandoned from wet
and bad air, and their mouths closed,.
The laborers ifre hired out by. the
contractors, who sell the coal to the:
dealers from Pelcin and elseivhere; it
is all carried away on the backs of
camels or mules, and it is a painful
sight to see the unwieldy camels
coming down the rocky, uneven'
roads, bringing their loads of coal, -
It is delivered at Pekin at about three .
piculs for a dollar, and a large part of
the price is for carriage. The coal is
hard, bat such examination as • the
time afforded, disclosed not a vestige
of a stump or leaf to compare with
the fossils, of other coal regions; more
careful research will doubtless bring
to light some indications of this kind s .
enabling scientific men to compare:
the numerous deposits ofsoft and hard
coal in this part of China with. the
European coal measures: .
LIST OF CHIEF J trancEs,--I,nefollow
ing is a Complete list of the Chief ,Tue_
tires of the Supreme Court of the trii
ted States since the
.);ear 1789: •
John Jay, Comminsioned September
27, 1789.
William Cushing, of Mapachusotts,
January 27,1796.
Oliyer Ellsworth, of Cormecgcut..
March 4,1796.
John Jay, of New York, December
10, 1800. (Mr. Jay declined .the appant.
ment..) •
John Marshall, of Virginia, January
31, 1801.
Roger B. Taney,. of Maryland,
March 15, 1836.
Salmon P. Chase, of Ohio, December
6, 1864.
PRESENT ORGANIZATION OF THE COJJR_T•
The appointment of Mr. Chas& as.>
Chief-Justice, 'completes the organizal.
tion of the' Supremo Court of tbb - IMP.
ted States. The Court is now c.on4
posbd of the following Judges: • .
SalaMn P. Chase, of Ohio, • Chief
justice; salary 86500. ' •
Nathan • ("afford, of Maine, Ass&
date Justice; salary 46000,
Robert C. Grier, of Pennsy•lvania,=
Associate ,lustico ; salaiy $6OOO
James 11. Wayne, of Georgia, Asiso'-'
ciate Justice ; salary 86000.
David Dauls, of Illinois, Associato: ,
Justice ; salary $6OOO. •
Jol4l Carson, of Tennessee - , Asobi•
elate Justi3o ; salary $GO(}O..
Noah H. Swayne, of Ohio;
gasooi
ate Justice; salary MOO.
Samuel F. Miller, of to•Wa, AssoCiate
Justice • salZry $6OOO. .
Stephen J. Field 1 of California, .41s.
sociate Justice; salary 86000.
The Court meets on the first Mon
day in December of each year at,
Washington.
/kr A man came into a printing
office to bog a paper. "Because," said.
he, "we like to read newspapers very
much, but our neighbors are: all too'
stingy to take one."
POSTBR%
BILL HEADS,