The globe., June 20, 1866, Image 1

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.eording to these terms.
Onr prices for tlsa printing of ItlanlN, MllOlllO, etc.
'BTO also increased.
PROFESSIONAL & BUSINESS CARDS
DR. A. B. LIGHT,
Graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, bar.
ing located at Warriorsmark, offers his professional eer•
vices to the people of the town and vicinity. Ito will re•
cave night calls of Chamberlin's Hotel.
3.6„ 1866-3 m.
DR. A. B: BRUMBAUGH,
Having permanently located at Huntingdon, offers
profc.donnl services to the community.
. . .
. - .
(karat, the same ax that lately occupied. by Dr. Loden.
on MU street. an 10,1860
DR. D. P. MILLER,
Office in room lately- occopied by J. Simpson Af
rica, offers his service to citizens of Liontingdoß and
nol—Oms
vPR. JOHN MeCHLLOCII, offers his
professional services to the citizens of Huntingdon
au PR.
Office en Hill street, one door east of Reed's
Drug Store. Aug. 25, '25.
BOYER & GARNER, Denlors in Dry
Oonds, Grqceries, ke., Marklesburg station.
ANDREW JOHNSTON, agent fQr
the Niagara Tn4uranco Company, Huntingdon.
GEO.SH R
AEFFE, dealer ha Boots,
Shoec,Clutterc, &c., Huntingdon,
-A; SON, proprietors of
'Juniata Steam Pearl Mill, Iluntingdon.
B. BRU.NLBA.UGH. & CO., deal
• era in fancy and staple goods, Marklesburg
IiATM. LEWIS . & CO , Family Gro
ceries, Provision and Feed Store, Runt., Pa.
WW MARCH & BRO.
Dealers in Dry GOMA, ' Queens ware. Rerdivaro,
Boots, Shoes, &c.
WM. LONG, Dealer in Candies,
Nuts, Fatally Oroceriva, dc, Iluatingdon, Pa.
CUNNINGHADI & CARAION,
Herchants, Huntingdon, Pa.
WiIIARTON & MAGUIRLI'i Whole
sale and retail deniers In foreign and domestic
Hardware, Cutlery, &c., Railroad street, Liuntingdon.
CHAS. H. ANDERSON, Dealer in
nll kinds of Lumber, Iluntingdon, Pa.
TAINIES A. BROWN,
Vexler in Hardware, Cutlery, Paiute, Oils, &a., Hunt
ingdon, Po.
T_T RCOLS.N,
3 * Dealer In Ready ZUado Clothing, flats and Caps,
•
T p
.P.
7).Ter in Pry Goods,Grocaries, !Tara ware, Queens
'are, Hate and Caps, pants and Shors,.&c. Huntingdon:
SE. lIENRY & CO., Wholesale and
. Retoil Dealers in Dry Goods. Groceries, Hardware,
Queensold-e, and Provisions of nil kinds, Huntingdon.
Wlt. AFRICA, Dealer in Boots and
Shoes, in ths Diamond, Huntingdon, Pa.
tiOIIN 11. WESTB.ROOK, Dealer in
Boots, Shoes, Hosiery-, Confectionery, Huntingdon.
YENTER, Dealer in Groceries and
• Provisions of all kinds, linutindon, P.
DONNELL & KLINE,
PHOTOGRAPHER?, Huntingdon, Pa
AI3OIIIS G. STRICKLER & SON,
illannfarturersofßrougber's patent Broom Head or
Nt rapper. Huntingdon.
- r M. GREENE & F. 0. BEAVER,
Plain and Ornamental Marblo Manufacturers.
AT GUTMAN & CO., Dealers in Ready
jjk • mado Clothing, litintlegdon, Pa.
rt M. GREENE, Dealer in Musie,inu-
A3,;slcal Instruments, Sewing 3lachines, Uuntingdon.
;L:1 SHOEMAKER, Agent for the Ma
ki. g ic. Star Liniment, Huntingdon, Pa.
WM. LEWIS,
Dealer in Books, Stationery and Musical Inetrn
manta, Ilnntingdon, Fn.
R . ALLISON 'MILLER, 6 tt v
DE YTIST,
It removed to the Brick Bow opposite the Court nous°
Apr 1113,1859.
T E. GREENE,
tl c DENTIST
Office femoved to opposite the Frnn ldin
ilonse in the old bank building, 11111 street, Huntingdon
April 10, 1868.
EXCHANGE HOTEL
►T`HE subscribers having leased this
Hotel, lately occupied by 11,31eNulty. are prepared
to accommodate strangers, travelers, and citizens in good
style. Every effort shall be made on our part to make all
who stop with us feel at home. J. J. 8, .T. D. FEE,
may2,lSE6 Proprietors.
MORRISON HOUSE,
i-ruaxtin.wacria.,
lIIAVE purchased and entirely
ren
ovated the large stone and brick building opposite
the Pennsylvania Railroad Depot, and have now opened It
for the accommodation of the traveling public. The Car
pets. Furniture, B'de and Sodding are all entirety new
and first class, and I am safe In saying that I can oiler ac %
.conintodations not excelled In Central Pennnyirania.
ta-I refer to nu patrons who bate formerly known
me while in charge of the Broad Top City lintel and Jack
son Ileum • JUSEPII MORRISON.
Slay 16, 1566-If.
K. ALLEN LOVELL,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
HUNTINGDON, PA.
GYFICg—In the brick row, opposite the Court Moose.
may 3.18136
J. K WADIES:I. WILLIAM A. lIPE.
MATTERN & SIPE,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
MID
LICENSED CLAIM AGENTS,
I.II3NTINGDON, PA,
°film on llill direct.
Soldiers Claims against the Government for hack Pay
Bounty, Widows' and Invalid? POUSIOM attended to with
great care and promptness. zny29-1 y
AGENCY,
POR COLLECTING. SOLDIERS
CLAIMS, BOUNTY, BACK PAY
AND PENSIONS.
ALL who may have any elaims•a
gainet the Government for Bounty, Rack Pay and
l'ensions, can have their claims promptly collected by ap
plying either in pars,. or by latter to
W. H. WOODS,
• Attorney at Law,
Huntingdon, Pa.
August 12, 1862.
1171 bcoTT, SAMUEL T. DllOll - 11, JOHN M. HAM=
•
riiho name of this firm has been chang-
X el from SCOTT lc BROWN, to
SCOTT, BROWN & BAIVErr,
tinder witch name they trill hereafter conduct their
practice
ATLORXEYS AT LAW HUNTING , DON, TA.
PEN BIONS, and all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs
epilog. the Om - ernment, trill be promptly prosecuted.
May 17, 1565-tf.
A. W. BENEDICT. 1. SMELT. ISTEIWIT. P. 11. LTTLE.
TIIE firm of Benedict & Stewart has
been changed to
BENEDICT, 13TEWA.RT & LYTLE,
under which name they will hereafter practice ra,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW, HUNTINGDON, PA
They will also giro careful attention to the collection
of military and other Claims against the State or Got.
crnment.
Office formerly occupied by .1. Sewell Etewart, adjoin
ipg tho Court Houeo. feb6,lBo
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WILLIAM LEWIS, Editor and Proprietor.
VOL XXI,
Ele 61,th.
IjIINTINGDON, PA.
Werdant Jeemes on Baste Bawl,
HuNTINanoN KoUNTY.
The Floury month of fune, of the yoar
M YSTEIL EDDITTER :—lnn my last too
yu, sum munth ago or morren that, I
prumisod if cony thing talc plaso war
thi of note I wood give my ideas fur
the believed, of the ignerint
Smuthin has takiu plase. A revorloo
shun has taken place—mon left their
bisnoes pershutts too give`pleshure her
shair of their shorts and axshuns. The
lawyer has left his musti books and his
unfortinate kliants. The marchaut
his marehandize; the groser his groser
ics; the klark his ink stan and akounte;
the printer his devil and deviltries;
the musishin his do, re, ma, fa, sas;
the dintist the jaws of his enfrerin fel
ler humans; the kar man hie trans and
kole diet; the pieter man his nigger
tives and koppies; the Wavier hie kold
wafter untaseted, all is kommoshun.
And fur what ? Kum with mo gentile
reader, yonder goes a crowd, wo will
foller em, they koriverse agerly, thai
move their bans wiolent, kern and
see. Low thai leave the town, the last
brik house has vanished, thai are on a
board walk; they are on a green fiel of
emerald green, what hes led to this
greenness? See eyri man has hung
his koat and west on the groan, to
men aro sayin, "Ile take Bilkins," "Ile
take Wilkins," "I "want Jones," "I
want Jenkins," kUrn here Tumpkins,"
"this.wai Bliuken," and so on tit they
hey too rounds. Is their 81717 ther lava
shun? Rev the wiolent Rebbils broke
luso agin ? Rev the Finnegins resod
their green flag, and air mustrin their
green follerers? No sir. This air ples
ore, this air our nashnul game, this air
Baste Ball.
Wun fbller talks a spoiled bruin still
and stans near an iron kittlo kover.—
Another feller with floin loks, thorws
a bawl at him with wiolenco ; he dont
like it, and hits it with his stik. Ho
is goin to run to keep that feller frum
throwin that bawl at him agin But
wale. Not so fast, my freu. "Fowl,"
sais a feller with a primmer in his
hand. Now thinks I, ole feller, yer
better not pitch that bawl at that man
agin. Immagine my surprise • that
poor cus talks his bruin agin, lookin
warm and savage; a g in the bawl is
throne at his bed, h o dodges, and
pokes her hard with his stilt. Orf she
goes up inter the air, down she kums;
a man rushes alit with his hands and
mouth open; thinks 1 which of them
things does ho xpect to ketch it in—
not with neither, he uses Ins'nose, and
sets down on his back to see ,wair its
agoin to lite. Anouther feller goes
with a run furit and pitches it back
to the man what, pitches it at falks.—
Inn the meantyme the feller what did
hit it has been agoin like mad. Lord!
how he runs; sum of his fiunily is talc
sik Units sertin. "Go to that third
beast," says a feller that kall Captir,.
In vain I looked fur a beasto; thair
wair nun in wiew; that feller wair
pussiled too, cos arter runniri a spot,
he stopt short, a breathin bard and
lookin all round. Another feller hunts
out a normus big stilt, and whiz 'corns
that bawl at him, he hits her wishus.
Their agoes a feller a runnin a fut rase
with it. Sea he - katches it—no he dont
dont like to hole it—ens he is a
wringing his bans awful,and furst puts
wun finger in his mouth, and then
another. I goes to him. Sez I "my
fren, is that bawl maid of the sweets
of this airth?" Saiz he "what meen
you ?" " For why doo you lik yer fin
ger ?" sez I. "You be —." • Well, it
wair cussin. I lied tLat feller fined
fur perfanity. Another feller talks
his stilt. Up she goes—(the bawl,)
down she kums, (the bawl,) she is
cetehed. "Out," . sez the feller with
the primmir, "kaut on a fly." That's
a humbug, no fli cud sustain that bawl,
thair nun round cot on flys—No sir, it
wair taut in the air. No fli bout that.
Then nuther feller tuk holt, three times
he bangged at it, when he went orf
like a rockli• like a werry lain roeltit,_
holdin wun leg strate, and makin awl
wurk fur the other. Well, they put
three fellers out. I don't no how, (the
feller with the primmir dons,) but thai
put cm; then the other fellers cum in
and. did like the fellers what was out:
same thing ovir.
The 'Result. Canes hes hokum Lash
unble,limpin the stile, brims and can
kuskins duly ockurancos,linnimint isin
evri wuns bans, It air a bootiful play
fur bisnis. Mom inshore thair lives in
the travlers and runners compinies, if
that hey the neadful. Wun poor sole
I seed with a rustick kane, a boot and
slipper, and a pokkit ful of bruse corer.
Sez I "nil man,
how long hey yeo been
frum Bort Eri ? I plainli see yu air a
wettorin !" "No," sea ho, "Im a wie
tim." "800 you plai bawl?" "I doe,
sea he, lookin leminkolly." "Nuff sod,"
I past on. Sez ho "talk a bier," sez
"yes"—wee took it. Ho wants me to
join.
• Mister Edditer amusement is amuse
ment, work is work, but of awl the
hard work, and poor fan I over did see,
that air Bawl of the Baste is the bas
est attempt attompted—whi I wood
rethorjone a sirens 'timpani and throw
summersets thro pains of glass.—
As over yurn,
WEIWANT JEEMES.
N. B.—Providin my breeches wair
of buck skin, As above,
TUE following toast was given at a
printers' dinner out West: "George
Woodcock—The of his profession,
the type of honesty, the 1 of all; and
although the /kir ofdeath has put a .
to his existence, every § of his life wee
without a ti."
Shoemaker, Stick to Your Last.
A STORY WITH A MORAL, FROM VON HORN
Who of us kind readers, has not
heard and probably made use of the
quaint motto constituting cur caption,
when any ono was known to have at
tempted the performance of that which
be was plainly unfitted . by natural
talent or acquired skill ? There is a
certain tact required in every under
taking, trade or profession, natural or
acquired; without which the man who
attempts the performance of the duties
of either, however apparently insig
nificant, will invariably fail in the
proper accomplishment thereof. Tho
truth of this declaration was onto
most amusingly established in the
ease of a royal personage who possess
ed si kindly disposition towards, and
was, in turn, highly esteemed and
much beloved by all his subjects, viz :
Maximilian Joseph, King of Bavaria,
the grandsire of tho present ruler of
that Kingdom. During the summer
of a certain year of his reign ho sat one
day iu a plain, undistinguishable dress,
in the royal garden, reading a book.
The heat was so groat, and such per
fect quiet rested upon the place that
the King became drowsy and his eyes
showed signs of a desire to sleep. Tie
laid his book on the bench and fell into
a comfortable sleep. The snooze did
not contititio very long, however, and
waking up, he started upon a short
walk for exercise. The book, in the
meantime, lay upon the bench, having
been forgotten by the King. Farther
and farther continued tho pleasure
walk, until Royal Palace and garden
wore left quite in the rear, and the
King strode out upon the beautiful
green plats of grass, which extended
hither and thither towards the sea
shore.
M. Joseph now remembered the
book he had loft upon the bench in the
park. Should any ono pass by that
spot, he felt convinced the book would
disappear, and yet he was very loth
to part with it. Neither did ho desire
to return to the Castle by the way ho
came, but intended to go borne by ex
tending his walk along tho coast. He
therefore looked all around and about
himself to find some ono whom he
might send for the book, upon point
log out the exact spot where ho had
left it. Par and wide, howovor, the
King could behold no human being
except a young lad, who was herding
a large flock of geese.
The King now bent his steps towards
the boy and said :
"Soo here, youngster, wouldn't you
go to a certain place, which I will
paint out to you, and bring mo a book,
you shall have two 'Zwanzigers' (Ger
man coin) for the job ?"
The lad who did not know the King,
looked unbelievingly at the corpulent
person before him. Two Zwansigers
for such a trifling errand ! the thing
seemed so much like a hoax to the
boy.
"I'm no fool, said the youngster,
turning away.
"What makes you think I take you
to be a fool 7" said the King, smiling';
and who. at once seemed interested in
the fresh looking, bold little fellow,
perceiving plainly that the boy did not
know who he was.
"Because yott offer such a' sum of
money for such a trifling job," replied
the lad. "Money is not made so
easily !"
"I see, now, that you are really a
simpleton!" said the King. laughing.
"Why do you not believe me ?"
"Thoso in there ,
said the boy, point
ing to the distantOastle,•"like to make
a fool of such as I am, and, in all like
lihood, you are also ono of them !"
"And suppose I should be," said the
King. "Here's your money in ad
vance! Now go and bring me the
book."
The lad's eyes glistened, as ho be
held the money, and even held it in
his own hand; knowing, as ho did,that
for very little more than that sum he
watched the farmer's geese a whole
year. Ile hesitated.
"Well," said the King, "why don't
you go ?"
The lad pushed his cap to one side,
and scratching behind his car, said,
"1 would most cheerfully do it but I
dare not! If the fltrnmrs beard that
I had left the destructive geese, they
would discharge me, and then I would
have no way to earn my bread any
longer."
"Foolish fellow !" said the King, I
will mind the geeSo till you return."
"You." cried the boy, sarcastically,
looking rather surprised at the King;
"You , would make a nice sort of a
gdose-herd ! You are too fut and stiff;
Fine work you would make for mo !
Tho geese would all break loose and
scatter over the fine fertile meadoWs;
and I would bo compelled to pay moro
than a year's wages for the damage.
Do you see that lordly looking old
plan tor, wi th the black head and wings.
He is a deserter, a villanious fowl, a
real scoundrel, he is of royal stock,
that is all good for nothing, ho would
make a pretty mess for me; it won't
do!"
The King was ready to burst with
laughter, but repressing his risibility
with all force, ho said, "why should I
not be able for a short time, to keep
flock of goose in order, whilst I do the
same daily with many people?"
"You inquired the lad, again eying
the King from head to foot. "Well,
they musk bonset, of real blockheads !
You ar&a school-master probably.—
I tell you, such a set of boys are more
easily governed than a flock of geese."
"That may be so," said tho King; but be short ! Wil yyou go for the
book ?"
"I Would—but—"
JEE 11 S
"I'll stand good for all, and will pay
the damage, if the landguard come,"
soid the King.
HUNTINGDON, PA„ WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20, 1866:
-PERSEVERE.-
This seemed to satisfy the lad, and
he charged the King to keep his eye,
porticularly, upon that royal looking
old gander; for ho was always ready
to break loose, and induce the whole
flock to Hollow. Tho King promised,
and taking the long lash from the boy's
hand, saw the latter start for the book.
But he had not gone far, when.he
again turned back and came to the
King.
"What now ?" said the king.
"Crack the whip," said the boy. The
King male the motion, but there was
no crack!
"I just thought as much," cried the
boy. "He pretends to be a school
master, and oven a goose-lterd, and can't
as much crack with a lash." He now
tore the lash from the King's hand and
instructed him how to crack. The
King could scarcely hold in any long
er, but, yet, made every effort to learn
from the lad, the art ti cracking the
lash; and having measurably succeed
ed in bringing forth the proper sound,
the boy once more charged him to be
very careful in watching the geese,and
again started for the book. The King
now gave full vent . to his laughing
mood, and enjoyed himself amusingly.
It soon appeared, however, as if the
geese really know that their usual
watchful commander bad given the
reins into other hands. Tho old gan
der, to which the boy had given the
name of ''Barn-yard Lord," stretched
up his long neck, looked all about;
blow his shrill trumpet twice or thrice,
and, immediately, as if a whirlwind
had seized a pile feathers, all the geese
flapped their wings, sounded a shrill
note',''and before the King knew what
he was about, they were all flying as
a rushing storm to the two and thirty
winds of heaven, over and upon the
nice fat meadows along the sea.
The King called after them in vain.
He tried to crack the lash, but could
produce but a feeble sound. He ran
hither and thither, but all in vain.
With the sweat pouring over his face.
he Aat down upon the trunk of a tree,
the seat of the young lad, and laughing
heartly, he lett the geese to go where
they pleased. "The lad is verily right,"
said the King to iiim.oll; "in sums
that it is easier to rule over a million
of people than a flock of geese. And
that scoundrel of a gander is the cause
of all this trouble,"
The lad hail in the meantime, gone
according to direction, found the book,
and was returning in great glee. As
he approached tho Kin , ,.looking for
his flock, he dropped the book to the
ground, through slicer fright, and star
ed in amazement upon the damage
done through the inefficiency of his
royal substitute.
"There it is said he, almost crying
with rage and anxiety. "Did I not
toll you, you know nothing ? What is
now to be done ? I can't bring them
together again alone! I hope you will
help me now."
Ile instructed the King how to
stand, and how to raise and lot fall his
out stretched arms, and how to halloa,
and then wont himself to gather the
most distant of the scattered flock.
The King did all he could, and after
considerable laborious effort, the flock
of geese was again united. -
The lad now abused the King round
ly, because ho had so illy performed
his promise, and concluded thus, "in
all my life shall no such follow got my
lash from me again, and deceive me
with two "Zwanziger," to forsake my
flock. Not oven to the King would I
entrust them."
"You are right there, my lad," said
the King; bursting-forth with a fresh
fit of laughter, "he knows just about as
much of the matter as I. '
"Pshaw, nonsense!" says the boy,
looking angrily at the King.
"Why my little man; I am the
Icing "
"You ? rillalco a tool believe that,
not Inc," cried the lad. "Go, get your
book and got yourself back to your
house."
,The King quietly went for his book,
and handing the boy four additional
"Zwatizigers," said : Here, my lad,
take these, and do not be angry with
me. I'll give you my word, that I.
will no more undertake Co watch a
flock of geese."
The boy took the money ; thanked
the _Kindly, and said, "whoever you
may be, a very kind gentleman you
aro; but for a goose-herd you will nev
er do. The proverb stands true:
"Shoemaker, stick to your tact I"
A BEAUTIFUL SENTIMENT.--Shortly
before the departure .of the lamented
Heber for India, he preached a sermon
which contained this beautiful senti
in on t
"Life bears us on like the stream of
a mighty river. Our boat at first
glides down the narrow channel—
through the playful murmurings of the
little brook and the windings of its
grassy borders. The trees shed their
blossoms over our young bends; the
flowers seem to offer themselves to the
young hands, wo are happy in hope,
and grasp eagerly at the beauty around
us—but the stream hurries on,and still
our hands aro empty. Our course in
youth; and manhood is along a wilder
and deeper flood, amid objects more
striking and magnificent. We are an.
imated at the moving pictures and our
joyine»ts and industry around us; wo
are excited at some short lived disap
pointment. The streams boar us on,
and out joys and griefs are Once loft
behind us. We may bo shipwrecked,
but we cannot bo delayed; whether
rough or smooth, the river hastens to
its home, till the roar of the ocean is
in our ears-, and the tossing of the
waves beneath our feet, and the floods
are lifted up around us,
and we take
our leave of earth and its inhabitants,
until of our future voyage there is no
witness save the Infinite and Eternal."
The Art . of Printing
RY BAYARD TAYLOR
Perhaps there is no department of
enterprise whose details are less under
stood by intelligent people than the
"art preservative"—the achievement
of types.
Every day, their life long they are
accustomed to read the newspaper, to
find fanit with its statements, its ar
rangement, its looks; to plume them
selves upon the discovery of some ro
guish and acrobatic typo that gots in
to a frolic, and stands upon its head;
or of some waste letter or two in it;
but of the process by which the news
paper. is made, of the myriads of mo
tions and thousands of pieces necessary
to its composition, they know little
and„think less.
They imagine they discourse of
wonder, indeed, when they speak of
the fair white carpet, woven for
thought to walk on—of the rags that
fluttered upon the back of the beggar
yesterday.
But there is something more won ,
derful still. When we look at the•
hundred and fifty-two little boxes,
somewhat shaded with the touch of
the fingers, that compose the printers'
"case"—noiseless, except the clicking
of the types, as ,one by ono they take
their places in the growing line—WO
think we have found the marvel of
the art.
We think how many fancies in frag
ments there are in the boxes,
how ma
ny atoms of poetry and excellence the
printer can make here and there, if ho
only had a little chart to work—how
many facts in a small "handful"—how
much truth in chaos.
Now he picks up the scattered ele
ments, until he holds in his hand a
stanza of "Gary's Elegy," or a mono.
dy upon Grimes " all buttoned up be
fore," and now "Paradise Lost;" be
arrays a' bride in " small caps," and
a sonnet in "nonpareil;" he announces
that the languishing, "live," in one
sentence— transposes the words, and
deplores the days that are few and
"evil," in the next.
A poor jest tricks its way slowly in
to the printer's hand like a clock just.
running down, and a strain of elo
quence marches into line letter by let
ter. We fancy we can tell the differ•
mice by ,hearing of the car, but per
haps not.
The types that told a wedding yes
terday announce a buirial to-morrow
—perhaps the self-same letters.
They aro the elements to make a
world of—these types are a world with
something in it as beautiful as spring,
as rich as summer, and as grand as au
tumn flowers that frost cannot wilt—
fruit that shall ripen for all time.
The newspaper has become the log
book of the age; it tolls at what rate
the world is running; we cannot tell
our reckoning without it.
True, the green grocer may bundle
up a pound of candles in our last ex
pressed thoughts, but it is only coming
to base uses, and that is done times
innumerable.
We console ourselves by thinking
that one can make of that newspaper
what he cannot make of livirig oaks_
a bridge for time; that ho can fling it
over the chasm of the dead years, and
walk safely back upon the shadowy
sea into the fair Past. The singer
shall not end his song, nor the true
soul be eloquent no more.
Thd realm of the Press is enchanted
ground. Sometimes the editor has the
happiness of knowing that ho has de•
fended the right, exposed the wrong,
protected the weak ; that ho had given
uttorence Ito a, sentiment that had
cheered somebody's solitary hour,made
somebody happier, kindled a smile
upon a sad face, or hope in a heavy
heart.
He may moot with that sentiment
many years after it may have lost all
charm of its paternity, but' he feels af
fection for it. He welcomes it as a
long absent child. Ho reads it asif for
the first time, and wonders if, indeed,
he wrote it, for he has changed since
then. Perhaps he could not give ut
terance to the sentiment now—per
haps ho would not if he could.
It seems like the voice of his former
self calling to its parerits, and there is
a something mournful in its tone. Ho
begins to think—he remembers why he
wrote it, where were his readers then,
and whither they have gone—what he
was then, and how much hp has
changed. So ho muses, until he finds
himself wondering if hat thought of
his will continue to float after he is
dead, and whether he is really looking
on something that will survive him.—
And then comes the sweet conscious
ness that there is nothing in the sen
tence that be could wish unwritten—
that is a better part of him—a shred
from the garment of immortality ho
shall leave behind him when he joins
the "innumerable caravan," and takes
his place in the silent halls of death.
Xle - The following advertisement,
we clip from a daily paper, exhibits a
good specimen of the arrangement of
words ;
"Lost ! A small lady's watch with
a whito face : also two ivory ladies'
work boxes. A mahogony gentleman's
dressing case, and a small pony, be,
longing to a young lady with one eye.
IleV" PronCiee, of the Louisville Jour
nal, makes a wicked lunge at the very
underpinning of society. Ho says
"tilting hoops enable the common peo
ple to see a
great deal moro of good
society than they eypr say before,"
tca., 4 learned coronor being asked
how ho accounted for the groat mor
tality, exclaimed :
"1 cannot toll; people seem to die
this year that never died bespro,"
TERMS, $2,00 a year in advance.
An old man was shaving himself one
day before the fire, but suddenly ex
claimed in a great rage to the maid
servant: "I can't shave without a
glass I why is it not here." "Oh l" said
she, "I have not placed it there for
many weeks, es you seetned to got
along quite as well without it." The
crusty old bachelor (of course he was
an old bachlor, or he would not have
been' so crotchety and crusty) had, for
the first time, observed that there was
no glass there and his inability toshavo
without one, was "in the mind" only
it way imaginary.
A Dutch thriller who measured a
yard through, was one day working
in the harvest field with his littlo son,
and was bitten by a snake. He was
horror struck: When he recovered
himself a little he snatched up his out
er clothing, and made tracks for home,
at the same timo busying 'himself in
putting on his vest; but it would not
go on. Ho looked at his arm, and it
seemed to be double its natural size;
but tugging at it with greater despe
ration, ho finally got both arms in.
But his blood fairly froze in his veins
when he discovered it wouldn't meet
by about a fool. By this time he had
reached his house,•and throwing him
self on the bed, exclaimed in an agony
of terror : "0 mine frow 1 I'm bn alcp
bite I'm ! 0 mine Cot !" But
his little bit of a wife,.standing a kim-.
bo in the middle of the floor,burst into
a fit of laughter to uncontrolablo that'
she was likely to suffocate, and 011ie
beat her husband in dying. The poor
man's in his alarm, had endeavored to
put on his little boy's vest; and was
not swollen at all, except "in the
mind."
Many a mother feels fretted and jad
ed and worn out 'with the cares of
housekeeping, and is almost sick. But
at the momenta welcome visitor comes
in full-of life and cordiality and cheer
iness and in less than five minutes that
mother is a different woman ; the sky
has - cleared; the face is lighted up
with smiles ; and she feels as well as
site ever did in her life. Her discour
agement, her almost sickness was not
" in the mind," it was a reality, but
the excitement of conversation droVe
oul;the wearying blood, which was op.
pressing the heart, and made it fairly
tingle to the finger points. Morn. ta—
diesl when you go a visiting, carry
smiles and gladness and a joyous na
ture and a kind heart with you, and
you will do more good than a dozen
doctors. Most persons have a variety
of uncomfortable feeligs at times, but
they disappear on some exciting occur
rence, not because they are merely-"in
the mind," only imaginary, but be
cause the excited heart wakes up to a
now propulsive power, and drives for
ward tho stagnating blood from points
where its sluggishness was producing
oppression, or actual pain. Mem. 2.
For all, when you are grumpy, bounce
up, go ahead, and dp something.—[Dr.
Put a Good Face Upon It.
If you wish to succeod in life, if you
wish to find friends, if you wish your
relatives or associates to enjoy your
company, wear a cheerful face; every
body dislikes and shuns a sad one, if
it is habitually sad, Everybody but
God grows weary of being 'reminded
of sorrow, and the heart that is always
full of bitter waters Will be left alone.
Pretend to be happy if you can do no
more. Coa.IE sunbeams to your eyes,
smiles to your lips. Spoak hopeful,yea
words as ofton as you can ; make fan
if you never feel it. Get the name of
being cheerful, and it will bo as in
cense to you. Whenever the glad face
goes it is' welcome; whatever the latigh:
ing lips ask is apt to be granted.. If
you are starving for either food for
body or spirit it is better to laugh than
to cry as you tell the tale. There was
one once who, with a face like a tomb
stone, told and told her wants, and met
with repulse alter repulse from those
whose faces fell at sight of her; but at
last, laughing in strange mirth at her
own inisory, she told it once again.—
Tears started into the eyes of her
bearers, and instant relief was given:
Men are impatient of tears,_and wo
men are weary of them. Don't give .
way to them, no matter what the caso
may be, get back the smiles as quickly
as you can. Lot them bo but "hollow
smiles," if that's the best you can do.
Keep at that. By and by you will do
better. Laugh to keep from crying.—
Never give up to gloom ; it is a wrong
to those about you. Sad faces add to '
the weight of troublo that life lays
upon every heart. Woo to us if we
cannot look about us and see bravely
cheerful faces to encourage our hearts.
Let us bo careful that each ono of us
has one of these faces. A man ivho
carries a glad face does an amount of
good in the world impossible to com
pute, oven if he be too poor to give ono
cent in charity, and a man whose fiice
is generally sad does, every day of his
life, more harm than can bo reckoned.
This is a hard world, full of all manner
of troubles; but evory one of them can,
for much of the time, be wrestled out
of sight; and ovory living man and
woman, as soon as the first distress is
a little paSt, at the very least, assume
cheerfulness,.This is decent. lae
than this, 'tis m
uty. Nobody has any
right to go about a perpetual darnpon
or of enjoyment. And no ono has just
reason for habitual sadness till he has
lost his soul. • •
.4' 'An innkeeper observed a poetil ,
lion with only ono spur, and inquired
the reason. "What would be the use
of another?" said the postillion, "if one
side of the horse goes, the other can't
stnnd
Da - The most dangerous bats that
fly. Brickbats ; ~
NO. 51.
La The Mind,
THE .c 1 - iOBF
SOB PRINTING OFFICE,
PPE "GLOBB JOB OFFIOB' fr h.
am most complete of any In the country, and pos.
sesses the moat ample facilities for promptly executh3g
tho best style, every variety of Job Printing, such.
HAND BILLS,
PROGRAMMES,. -
BLANKS,
POSTERS,.
BILL BEADS,
CARDS,
'CIRCULARS,
BALL TICKETS,
LABELS, &C., &O.
CALL AND EXAMINE SPECIIDENS OP WORE,
LEWIS' BOOR. STATIONERY & 'MUSIC STOREi
A Capital story,
Some years since, an eccentric old:
genius, named Barnes, was employed'
by a farmer living in a town some six
or seven miles westerly from the Pe
nobscot river, Maine, to dig a well..
The soil and substratum being mostly
of sand, old Barnes having progressed
downward about forty feet, found one
morning upon going to work that the
well bad essentially caved in, and was
full nearly to the top. So, having the
desire which men have of knowing
what will be said of them after they
are dead, and no , one being yet astir,
he concealed himself in a rank growth
of burdock by the side of a board fence
near the mouth of the well, having
first left his frock and bat on the wind
lass over the well. At length break
fast being ready, a boy-was despatch
ed to call him- to his meal, when lo
and behold ! it VMS. seen that . Barnes
was buried in a grave unconsciously by
his own hands. The alarm being giv.-
en,' and the family assembled it was
decided to eat breakfast; and then to
send for the coroner, the minister, and
his wife and children. Such apathy
did not flatter Barnes' self esteem a
bit, but he waited patiently, determin
ed to hear what would be said and see,
what was to be seen. .
Presently all parties arrived and be
gan "prospecting! tbe scene of the ca
tastrophe, as people usually do in such
cases. At len,gth they drew together
to exchange opinions as to what should
be done. The minister at once gave
his opinion that they bad better level
up the Well and let Barnes remain; "for"
said he, •'he is now beyond the temp
tation of sin, and the day of judgment
it will make no difference whether ho
is buried five feet under ground or fif
ty, for he is bound to come forth in
either case." The coroner likewise
agreed that it would be a needless ex,
pause to his family or to the town to
disinter him when ho was effectually
buried, and therefore coincided with
the minister.
Ifis wife thought as ho had left his
hat and frock it was hardly worth
while to dig him out for the rest of his
clothes, and so it was decided to let .
him remain. But poor , old Barnes,who
had no breakfast, and was not at all
pleased with the result of the inquest,
lay quiet until the shades of evening
stole over the landscape, when ho dc,
parted to parts unknown. After ra,
redining incognito for about three
years, one. morning he suddenly apt
peared (hatless and froekless as ho
went) at the door ofi the old farmer,
for whom he had agreed to dig the un
fortunate well. To say that an aval
anee of questions were rained upon
him as to his mysterious re.appearance,,
etc., wonld convey but a feeble idea or
the excitement which his bodily pres-.
epee created. •
But the old man bore it quietly, and
at length informed thorn that on find
ing himself buried, he waited to be dug
out again, until his patience was ex
hausted, when he set to work to dig
himself out, and bad only the aay be
fore succeeded, for, his ideas being very
much confused, he had dug• very much
at random, and instead of coming di
rectly to the surface, he came out in
the town of Holden, six miles east of
the Penobscot river.
No further explanations were asked
for by Wow who were so distressed
and sorrowful over his supposed final
resting place.
Cp.ARAOTERISTICS OF WESTERN PEO,
14.t.--Western character, especially
that in the Valley of the Mississippi, is.
the outgrowth of the circumstances
surrounding it, including climate, soil,
and the mingling of many nations. It
is the develop - tient partly of the harcl
and stern conditions that come of set
tlement in a new country, and partly
from the breaking away from the fix
ed and crystalized civili4atiao of the
East. -
' Out of those facts grow strong Judi:
vidualism, freedom, and self-reliance,
•and large and comprehensive views
from which are eliminated the elements
of .narrow sectarinism, provincialism
and the little prejudices that gather
around an untraveled community,
Hence the Western character develops
freedom—takes Mirage calculations.
A Western man thinks nothing of go-.
ing ono thousand or fifteen hundred
miles—hag . no religious prejudic'es
against Gentiles or Jews. The de,
month of various nationalities flowin
together, and make up the community.
He is educated to be self-hopeful, and
protects himself. If a man steals his
horse he mounts another, and treacle
the thief, and shoots him if he can s
The 'extending prairies, the immense
rivers, the mighty lakes, somehow
seem to enlarge the Western man's
Conception of things. 'His big farm
yields him thousands of bushels of
grain. He may have twenty - borseS,..
an hundred mules, and a thou Sand:
head of cattle, grazing in his pastures s
and five hundred hogs fattening in his
fields. He reads the price Current of
Eastern papers, with fall is much acre
as he dogs his Bible. He knows all
that is going on—forms his own Qpin
/MO; and is loud and bold in the ex,
pression The irascible, reek
lees, mercurial daring which charnel,
zes Westosn men, and which was so
illustrated in Sherman's army, isOnth
the fruit of their education and the re,
suit. of the climate. The Western man'
is as impulsive as the Southern. Ho •
calculates . quickly, and acts `en• tha
spur of the moment. Practical j 4 all
things he sees the shortest cut gllyays.
Whatever'he owns he is willing to sell,
—whatever You own. he is willing to
buy. On a large trade he is as sharp
as a Taplree, in a small one he' takeq
no stock.
P-a - Indulde hiluitir as much i
you pioaso, if it is tVot