VOL. 46. The Huntingdon Journal. .1. R. DUI:BORROW 1.171111.12411Elte: AND Pine. ..0 ihith find 11 . 11.1h;l1UtfIll 41.1'114. THE HUNTINGDON .1411 . 11 N AI. is 1111111iSlled every Wednesday. hp J.•lt. Dunimaitow and J. A. NASII, under the firm name of .1. It. Itritimitnow CO., at *2,00 per annum, IN A DA - A NC. or :$2,50 if nut paid for in six mouth= from date of subscription, aml S 3 if not paid within the year. No paper ilisiNnitinued, unless at the option of the publishers. until all urrearages are paid. AItVER'fISEIIENTS will he inserted at TEN CENTS per line for each of the first fiur insertions, and t•IVc CENTS per line fur each subsequent it!er lien less than three months. Regular monthly and yearly advertisements will be inserted at the following rates 3m l 6m,9tnily I 3m9ua 9in 1 y I Inc _OO Inch 1 501 3 00 1 , 4 5C, 1. 61.10 , /,col 9 00,18 00 2700 36 2 " 8 001 6 00, 9 001,209" 24 00,36 00 500016500 3 " 460, 900 13 50,18 00 3 / 4 " 3 I 4 00,50 00,6500 8000 4 " 600,1200'18 00,24 00 5 " 7 50'18 00'22 50 30 00 Iyr 36 00'60 00'8090 1000 Special uotice:4 will be inserted at AND .1. MALI' CENTS per line, and local and editorial no tices at rirrnEN CENTS per line. • •, An As;ooiations, Communicar or individual interest, and notices of 3lar riages and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will he charged TEN CENTS per line. Legal and other notices will he charged to the party having thew inserted. Advertising Agents roust find their commission outside of these figures. All adrurthday "mount,. are due toned collectable when the oselecetieenient in Doer JOB PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and Fancy Colors, dune with neatness and dispatch.— I laud-bills, Blanks . , Cards. Pamphlets, .t e., of every variety and style, printed at the shortest notice, and every thing in the Printing line will he execu. - led in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. Travellers' Guide. rNNHYLTANIA RAIL ROAD.., WESTWAED .. r i i'si rg STATIONS. .. r- 1 .t.l - I z .. 0 IS.„N • ;1 O • g ,.., V. X. Y Y I 4 39 4 az 02 15 1 6 99 46 ( 53 1 - WO * 16 0019 30 .1t.I• N. lA. XL v3l , I 43 112 52 7 50' Mt. Union. 12 01 'Mapleton ;12 10 8 03 Mill Creek •12 23 8 13 . 1138TINGiros l2, 12 47 jPeterebttrg------ ....... 12 53 'Berne 1 07 ---,Spruce Creek.-- 10 4B 1 23 . ..... 1 32 11081 Tyrone lO 30 1 45 --. Tipton. 1 53 --_ll 7 ootorla 159 2 90 9 48'.81t00na...- ...... 10 00 r Y. a. Y. P. X. Line Eastward, leaves Altoona at 12 48 A. a., ■ at Huntingdon at 1 17 A. sa. cluing( Express Eastward, leaves Altoona at and arrives at Huntingdon at 7 05 P. 31. .xpress Eastward, Insane Altoona at 825 A. te., I Huntingdon at 7 25 A. is. Express Westward, loaves Huntingdon at 35 a. x., and arrives at Altoona at 4 50 A. ■. The Fast Line Westward, passes Huntingdon at 7 35 Y. it., and arrives at Altoona at 8 45 P. a. rhe F. 4Elld arrin A 65 r. x. Pacific k and /Area HUNTINGDON AND BROAD TOP RAILROAD. •••••• n- On and after Wednesday, Nov. 22d, 18/0, Passenger Trains will settee and depart as follows Up Taupe. DOWN T4Acis. Accost. MAIL ACOOII. Man STATIONS. P. M. A. M. A. M. P. M. is 520 Ls 00 Huntingdon._ AI 840 Alt 410 528 08 Long Siding 1 829 402 5 42 21 MeConnellstown I 8 13 3 46 5 49, 30 Pleasant Grove I 805 338 6 03, 46 Marklesburg .. 750 323 6 181 1 00 Coffee Run 735 308 625 1 08 Rough and Ready 727 300 640 1 = Cove 712 248 645 1 27 Fishers Summit 706 241 . A. 706.1 43 s azton 650 225 lit 1 10; 1 50 206 1 08 Riddlesburg 1 58 1 16 HopeweIL. 1 36 Pipers Run 1 18 1 56 Tatesville 1 10 1 08 Bloody Rnn..— 105 As 12 12 Mount Dallas Ls 100 SHOUP'S RUN BRANCH. LB 7 10 Ls 10 5518axton, at 640 as 200 725 11 10 Coahuont....-..... 625 205 730 11 15 Cravrford. 620 200 Alt 740 Alll 25 Dudley Ls 6 10 us 100 Broad Top City JOHN M'KILLIES, Sun. Professional Cards MILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend protuptly to all legal business- Office in Cunningham's new building. Lian.4,'7l. ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at • Law, lluntingdon, Pa. :Armin' attention given to COLLECTIONS of all kinde; to the settle ment of Estates, &c.; and all other Legal Business prosecuted with fidelity and dispatch. Air. Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton Speer, Esq. (jan.4,'7l. TW. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun • tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart, &al. [jaa.4,'7l. MUSSER & FLEMING, Attorneys at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., promptly collect Pensions and other claims. Office, second Boor of Leister's new building, Hill street. rjan.4,ll. P. W. JOHNSTON, Surveyor A• and Scrivener, Huntingdon, Pa. All kinds .of writing, drafting, &c., done at short notice. Office on Smith street, over Woods & 'Law Office. [may12,139. M. & M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys 1— • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to Lull kinds of legal business entrusted to their cure. .offloo on the south side of Hill street, fourth door - west of Smith. [jan.4,7l. SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at • •Law, Huntingdon, Pn. Office, Hill street, three doors west of Smith. [jan.4'7l. ..1 - A. POLLOCK, Surveyor and Real TA • Estate Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to Surveying in all its branches. Will also buy, sell, or rent Farms, Houses, and Real Estate of ev ery kind, in any part of the United States. Send fors circular. pan.47l. DR. J. A. DEAVER, having located at Frankßavine, offers his professional ser vices to the community. [jan.4,ll• W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law j• and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., Soldiers' claims against the Government for back pay, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend ed to with great care and promptness. Office on Hill street. JOHN ',SCOTT. 9. T. DROWN. J. M. BAILEY• •QCOTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At, torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pu. Pensions, and all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against the Government will be promptly prosecuted. Office on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l. DR. D. P. MILLER, Off►ce on Hill street, in the room formerly occupied by Dr. John M'Culloch, Huntingdon, Pa., would res pectfully offer his professional services to the citi zens of Huntingdon and vicinity. [jan.4,'7l. JR. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth • ecary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun tingdon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded. Pure Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [n0v.23,'70. DR. A. B. BittMEAUGH, offers his professional cervicee to the community. Of f ice on Washington street, one door east of the Catholic Parsonage. [jan.4,'7l. EJ. GREENE, Dentist. Office re • moved to Leister's new building, Hill street Huntingdon. Lisa.4,ll. RALLISON MILLER, Dentist, has • moored to the Brick Row, opposite the Court louse. [jau.4,'7l. EXCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon, I'a. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. January 4, 1871. FOR ALL KINDS OF JOB WORE, (Jo to THU JOURNAL BUILDING, corner of Washing ton and Bath streets. Our pressos and type are all new, and work is executed in the best style. T O ADVER TIEBS J. A. NASH. THE iluNnstmoN .1011INAL. PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING J. R. DURBORROW & J. A. NASH. Office corner of Washington and Bath Sts., H 17NTINGDON, PA. EASTWARD. THE BEST ADVERTISING MEDIUM Id IFi PALIA. 5 13) 31 '5 05:9 24 :4 579 16 !4 48:9 98 4.140, DO 14 158 39 4 0618 31 4 00'8 24 3 463 12 3 solo oo 3 29'7 57 3 23 7 51 3 18 7 47 3 00 7 30 CENTRAL PENNSYLVANIA CIRCULATION 1500. HOME AND FOREIGN ADVERTISE- MENTS INSERTED ON RE A, REASONABLE TERMS. A FIRST CLASS NEWSPAPER. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION $2.00 per annum in advance. $2.50 within six months. $3.00 if not paid within the year. JOB PRINTING ALL KINDS OF JOB WORK DONE NEATNESS AND DISPATCH, AND IN THZ LATEST AND MOST IMPROVED POSTERS OF ANY SIZE, CIRCULARS, WEDDING AND VISITING CARDS; BALL TICKETS, PROGRAMMES, ORDER BOOKS, SEGAR LABELS, RECEIPTS, PHOTOGRAPHER'S CARDS, BILL HEADS, LETTER HEADS, PAPER BOOKS, ETC.. ETC., ETC., ETC.. ETC. - :0 : Our facilities for doing all kinds of Job Printing superior to any other establish ment in the county. Orders by mail promptly filled. All letters should be ad dressed, J. R. DURBORROW & CO, The Huntingdon Journal. Over the river tley beckon to me, Loved ones who crossed to the further side ; The glean of their snowy robes I see, But their voices are lost on the dashing tide, There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, And oyes the reflection of heaven 's own blue ; Ito crowed in the twilight, gray and cal, And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. We saw not the angels who met hint, The elites of the Zity we could not 'see Over the river--over the river— My brother stands waiting to welcome me. Over the river the boatnutu Rain. Carried another, the household pet ; Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale— bailing Minnie! I Nee her yet. She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, . . Autl fetaltetely entered the plutut'ont bark, We felt it glide (mu the eileer entitle ~ . Anil all Zur sunshine grew stningnir dark. We know the is safe on the further side, Where an MI the ransomed and angel; t.e ; Over the river—the mystic river— My childhood's idol is waiting furwe. For none return from those quiet short. Who cross with the la attnan cold and pale— We Imo- the dip of the golden oar., . . And catch a glow friim the snowy Hail ; Anil lo! they have named from our yearning heart., Who crolathe stream and are gone for aye. We may not sunder the veil apart, That hides from our rletion the gates of day ; We only know that their barks uo more May sail with us o'er lifo3's stormy sea; Yet, somewhere, I know, ou the unseen shore, They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. And I sit and think when the sunset's gold Is flushing river and toll and shore, I shall one day stand by the initte! colt!, And list for - the sonti - d of it boatman 'S oar; I Milan watch fora gleam of tho flapping sail, I shall bear the boat as it gains tho strand, I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale, To the hotter shore of the spirit land; I shall know the loved who have gone before, And joyfully sweet will the Pleating be, When over the river—the peaceful river— The angel of death shall carry me. THE VILLAGE TEACHER. ADELE CLAYTON was left an orphan at the early age of seven years, and was trans ferred to the home of her guardian, a friend of her late father's, and a distinguished man, bearing the title of Hon. Judge Morris. He was good as well as great, and he real ly intended to love and cherish the little -Adele, Vont 1114.-Veletriette grave—no lenwore to her childish joys and griefs, and conse quently she grew up under the supervis ion of his wife, a lady of taste and fashion, a favorite with the lovers of pleasure, but wholly devoid of the true graces of woman hood. No love for Nature, or for Nature's God shone in her life; and while she took great care to decorate her person, and or dered the most expensive furniture for their large parlors, not once did she think it necessary, or even praise-worthy, to "keep the heart beautiful," and kindness to her inferiors in rank was an unknown word. No system of benevolence wherewith she might use the means given her, gained her consideration; her hobby was the ball, the opera, and the latest novel. Poor Adele ! No wonder the child's bright eyes often filled with tears, and the pensive heart so longed for a mother's sweet kiss and smile But just a little while ago and they were all so happy at Rose Cottage—before her father lost his life on the ill-fated steamer of which be was captain, and dear mother grew pale and ill in the decline which rapidly fol lowed, fading away like a fragile flower 'neath the scorching rays of sunlight. Time rolled on bringing its changes. At the age of eighteen, Adele had secured a situation as a music-teacher in one of the high schools in the village, and suc ceeded admirbly, much to the dissatisfac tion of her foster-mother, "for who ever heard of a Clayton or Morris that work ed for a living ?" But Adele thought it very pleasant to be free, for six hours in the day, from the continual talking to which she was subjected as to how she should behave to attract attention of a cer tain Mr. M., with a "superb cravat and killing moustache;" the latest style of hats and cloaks, and, worse than anything else in the catalogue, of her miseries—fashion able calls. And the long walks to and from school with her "brother Montone," as he requested her to call him, and whose society, in a measure, satisfied her lonely heart—they were more pleasant still. Another twelvemonth, brimful of joy and happiness to Adele Clayton, had passed away, and Montone was ready for college. With eyes dim with weeping, she saw awarded to her '-brother," the first prize of the graduating class—the honor of the valedictory; and at the close of the exer cises, threading their way through the crowd of schoolmates and citizens who had come to take a farewell shake of the hand, and to breathe warm hopes for his future, for their "idol of the charmed circle," as they had fondly called him, they prepar ed rather sadly to take the walk which led from the academy grounds to the res idence of the Judge. WITH STYLE, SUCH AS Glorious moonlight haunted the grounds belonging to the Morris mansion, gilding each tree and flower and lowly shrub, with its radiance, peering in the draped win dows, lighting up the grey walls—now dancing over the damask carpet—then flitting over the face of you fair sleep er, as if it would wake her to Aare in its revels. But she sleeps on, calmly and sweetly dreaming beautiful dreams of the future_ Nothwithstanding "brother Montone" had but an hour before pressed the good bye kiss upon her lips, and left ten min utes after on the train which was to bear him away to that "hateful college," as she had termed it, nothwithstanding all this, Adele was very happy in the confidence of one she loved more than all the world besides. Do not smile, dear reader, for he was all she had to love, but give her credit for a good share of common sense, as she did not pine over supposed troubles, in his absence, but gave herself cheerful ly to the performance of her daily duties. BUSINESS CARDS, CONCERT TICKETS, LEGAL BLANKS, Long letters from Montone came often, at first, and the loved ones at home were cheered by his seeming content and ea gerness to pursue his studies, and with their ideas heightened by anticipation, were awaiting his return at the first va cation. . _ .. . PAMPHLETS, VM Again, so on the evening of his depar ture, beautiful moonlight flooded the earth, giving the lustre of mid-day to objects without; the Judge, with his wife and Adele Clayton, were sitting before a cheer ful fire in their cozy sitting-room, whose white walls shone with adornings of the Christmas holly, talking of the one object of their thoughts, as usual—Montone. "The last train is in for the night," said the Judge; "we need look for him no longer." Just at that moment the door-bell rang, there was a rush for the hall, and Montone Morris, in all the glit ter of military dress stood before them. After the first murmur of surprise, amid alternate questions and caresses, Lieut. Morris told his story to his lady mother, who was too much looking in energy to Zlte ill' moue egouttr. Over the River. Vhe ffitorg-gellev. BY LIDA MEDDIC. CIIAPTER. I. CHAPTER 11. HUNTINGDON, PA., JANUARY 4, 1871 remonstrate, and too proud to grow indig nant. His indulgent father was almost dumb with astonishment, to think that his only son had not consulted him in taking a step of so much moment to himself, and of such vital importance to all concerned. Very quickly the days of Montone's fur lough came and went, but they brought little joy to the inmates of the Morris mansion. The morning of his intended departure dawned at last, and with sad hearts and pale faces they assembled in the breakfast room, to enjoy, if possible, one more repast. All were grave and silent us they belped themselves to the dainty viands; even Mrs. Morris had lost her calm, easy manner, for her only son, for whom she had predicted such a brilliant career, was to be, in a mea sure, lost to her. We will pass over the tears and last words between parents and child, and notice par ticularly the parting of the lovers, for such they had acknowledged themselves during Montone's brief visit. his mother's "good bye," and his father's fervent "God bless you, my noble boy !" still lingered on his ear as he sought the library, whither Adele had fled, leaving her breakfast untested. "My dear Adele, I em so glad to find you! The train is in, and I must leave you. What has made you run away from me so much of late ? Are you not willing that I should go and fight for the Stars and Stripes ? Will you not bid "God speed" as I leave you, my own darling, to help my brave brothers exercise this de mon of war which the hand of Treason has unchained ? Speak, Adele." The maiden raised her face, beautiful, though tear-stained, and as her lips met his, she answered : "God bless you, dear Montone, and bring you back to us again. lam willing, but I never knew"—and the small, white hand pushed back, caressingly, the curls from a high forehead—"l never knew my own weakness until now, or realized the magnitude of the sacrifice I am about to make. Go, but do not tolerate or partici pate in any of the vices incident to camp life. Go my brave Montone, and if you -Forget your f.th t .r and mother and me—" here the lips paled and quivered—"do not, oh ! do not forget your God ! May the same God whose blessing your words invoke, keep you my angel !"—and he was gone. CHAPTER 111. Two years of victory and defeat for our armies had passed, and communication be tween Lieut. Morris and his loved ones remained uninterrupted and constant, while lie looked joyfully forward to the close of another year, when he should re turn to claim the beautiful Adele Clayton as his bride. In the meantime our he roine rejoiced in the appellation and re numeration of "village teacher;" and never did pupils have a more worthy or amiable preceptress. Her law was the law of love, the administration of which not even the lion spirits of untamed ju veniles could resist. So, from term to term she walked in and out before them, teaching by example as well as by pre cept. The house of Judge Morris was still her home, and in a measure she sup plied the loss of the absent one, though he was not forgotten ; oh, no! the tendrils of love grew stronger and stronger, and twined themselves closer and closer about the object of affection. Not severed, though separated! Many a time, when the brave soldier drooped withexcessive weariness, affection ate messages from home gave him new strength for the march and encounter with the enemy. We give the reader a sam ple of his responses : "CAMP BEFORE GETTYEBURGII, July 2, '63. My Own and only Darling :—Your last let ter was received amid the din of clashing arms. Since the summer sun last dawned', upon us, many a brave fellow, with loving friends at home, and with as many high hopes for the future as myself, has fallen. With anxious thoughts of the morrow I commence this epistle, which must necessarily be short, on account of duty. But first, Adele, let me tell you that which lies nearest my heart. Amid the exciting times of the campaign, I fear I have neglected to tell you all I felt, and fear that I may have caused you pain. For give me, dearest, and if I should become. a prey for some ferocious rebel, remember— and let the thought nerve you to bear all things—that Montone Morris loved his country next to God, and next to his country, you. Should my predictions prove correct, farewell ; we shall meet in that Heaven where there is no room for sin and strife, and where there is no parting or death. Living or dying your own MONTONE '2 D 4 tar AN!,-0144010,-00w, =runlet' are painful tidings, that our first lieutenant, H. is no more. He fell July 3rd, as he was cheer ing his men on to meet the foe. A ball from one of the enemy's guns pierced him through the heart, killing instantly. As his friend and comrade, I felt it my duty to finish the un sealed letter which I found in his pocket, pre vious to the burial. He was interred in the northwest corner of the Gettysburg Cemetry. Lieut. Morrie was a man and a hero, and the loss of so efficient an officer is sadly felt by his companions in arms. With a heart that sympathizes with you in your great bereave ment, I remain yours, &c., HERBERT WALLACE, 2d Lieut. * * * * * 41- * "Any letters for Miss Clayton ?" asked the judge of the postman, almost every mail, until there came at last a small, white envelope, directed in a strange hand. "No bad news, I hope, sir," ventured the postman. "1 think not. Good morning." And Mr. Morris walked hastily homeward. lie did not in the library, as was his usual custom, but went immediately to Adele's room and handed her the letter, saying —"Read quickly, my daughter." Something in his manner frightened her, and it was with difficulty she read the above missive. Not a word of comment was spoken by either. Adele walked straight up to the old man, wound ler arms around his neck, while large, burn ing tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped amid his silver hair. "All this for one's country," he mar mured, while his form shook with great sobs, and he trembled like an aspen. There was no more to hear and suffer— one without the strength of mind belong ing to the others—and Mrs. Morris sank beneath the heavy blow, until her life, for a reason, was dispaired of. But with the first cool breezes of autumn, came back the rose to her cheek, and somewhat of of the old light to her eye ; although she never give her time, after that, to the frivolous pursuits of gay life. With a chastened spirit, Adele still per formed the duties which had become irk. some indeed, now that the light of love had been removed. The diamond ring and bracelet, his last gifts, were laid away from sight; but not so her affection for her lost lover. Such love as hers has no interpreter; but in the life above, our best hopes, which here are but faintly shadow. ed forth, shall find a glorious consumma tion. The Judge and his wife still live ; and with a voice of sweetness, and a pale, sad though very lovely face, may be seen in many abodes of sin and suffering, as the dispenser of her own bounty; Adele Clayton—the village teacher. fading for tile The Deserted Dwelling. BY PERRY PEREGRINE. Mute eloquence pervades a deserted dwelling. We feel the influence, and pen sively linger awhile to indulge the thoughts and emotions called up within this pres ence-chamber of changing time, whose blackened walls and broken ceilings, sash less windows and fallen arches, bowing roof and toppling chimneys, speak of ae and, decay, and ruin. Though eloquent in its decay, it is not this that constitutes its greatest interest. The imagination loves to assemble within the walls, and around the deserted hearth the forms of animated and intelligent beings, who once here lived and moved, and rejoiced, to call this now ruined dwelling—Home. Home! What a thrill of heartfelt emo tion does that magic word excite in the breast of the storm-tossed mariner, far out on life's sea! What a crowd of hallowed memories cluster around the paternal hearth when time and change have burri ed other scenes and other memories in ob livion. When we reflect that this desert ed and crumbling ruin, a covert and hid ing place for owls and bats, has been the birth-place and home of deathless spirits, in years long fled, we feel that the place is sacred, that our feet are standing on holy ground. We look upon the dilapi dated walls, with a feeling akin to rever ence, while we muse upon the varied scenes they may have witnessed, and pon der the possible fate of those whom this place once knew, but shall know no more forever. _ _ Roared, it may have been by the strang arm of the sturdy pioneer, who in days of yore came hither with the partner of his toil, to hew out of the yet unbroken forest, a home. Here they lived and perished ; here pledges of their love grew up around them. How often have those old walls rang with the merry, glad voices of child hoo ! How often have the wearied in mates sought their humble, but cheerful home as a pleasant retreat after the heat and toil of a long summer's day • or, gath ered around the blazing ingle when wintry fury and bitterness without, only served to heighten, and render more palatable, the comfort and enjoyment within. Merrily the long evening glides away with fun and frolic, until the antiquated clock strike the hour of retiring. Then the worthy sire takes down from the wide mantle-piece, a well-loved, well-worn volume, and while a reverent silence settles on the happy group, "He wales a portion with judicious care ; And let us worship God, he says with solemn Then arise— " Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide. * * * * * * * Kneeling down to Heaven's eternal King. The saint, the father, and the husband prays." Here is a scene on which angels delight to gaze, and the Almighty Ruler of the universe beholds with an approving smile. Time stays not his rapid flight. A few brief years glide away; years of change and vicisitude. These merry, romping children have grown to the stature of man and womanhood. One daughter after an other has plighted her faith within this deserted dwelling, and departed to cheer and adorn the home of him who has won her young affections, and holds her plight ed vows. One son after another leaves the parental mansion, and parental coun sel, to take his plaoe on the jostling stage of life, until all are gone, it may be save one, who remains to protect and cherish feeble and declinging age. Again, we pass over a few more years, in which there have been happy family re-unions. Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or New Years, brings children and grand children around the ancestral hearth once more. The aged patriarch feels "almost young again," and dear old grandmother's eyes are swimming with joy as she looks around on the happy circle, all at home again. But now they meet no more in the old homestead. There has been a sad and final gathering here, at the summons of the inexorable messenger. "And loving neighbors smoothed the careful r_. rWINO, While .- - Cfeath an 3 winter closed the autumn scene. The deserted dwelling passes into the hands of a stranger, whose pretentious edi fice, at a haughty distance, seems to mock the ancient and desolate ruin. But I love, rather to meditate on its loneliness and de cay, than to look upon the former in all its grandeur. The thistle flourishing securely beneath the eaves of the Deserted Dwel ling possesses a deeper interest for me than the gayest flower that adorns the en closures of the princely mansion. *1 * * * * * * My house has long been away beyond the rugged mountains, and the mighty river. Years are accumulating upon me. This is my last visit to the well remember ed home of my fathers. My heart swells with emotions that are strange and unutterable. Blinding tears fill my eyes, and I sit me down in the old door-way and weep.—Leisure flours. The Bloom of Age. A good woman never grows old. Years may pass over her head, but if benevolence and virtue dwell in her heart, she is as cheerful as when the spring of life first opened to her view. When we look upon a good woman we never think of her ag•: ; she looks as charming as when the rose of youth first bloomed upon her cheek. That rose has not faded yet ; it will never fade. In her neighborhood, she is the friend and benefactor. In the church, a devout wor shipper and exemplary christian. Who does not respect and love the woman who has passed her days in acts of mercy and kiudness—who has been the firiend of a man and whose life has been a scene of kindness and love, a devotion to truth and religion ? We repeat such a woman cannot grow old. She will always be fresh and buoyant in spirits and active in hum ble deeds of mercy and benevolence. If the young lady desires to retain the bloom of youth let her not yield to the sway of fashion and folly; let her love truth and virtue ; and the close of life she will retain those feelings which now make life appear a garden of sweets ever fresh and ever new. 053 Mr. Cobb has married Miss Webb. lie knew that they were meant to be joined as soon as he spied her. How to Make A Thousand Dollars. My getin' the better of my wife's father is one of the richest things on record. I'll tell you how it was. You must know he was monstrous stingy. The complaint seems to run in the family, and everybody sound our parts used to notice that never by any chance ask anybody to dine with him. So one day, just for a chunk of fun, I said to a friend of mine Jeddy— "l'll bet you a penny worth of shoestrings against a row of pins, that I get old Ben Merkins, that's my wife's father, to ask me to dinner." "Yeou get out," said Jeddy; "why, yeo might as well try to coax a cat into a showerbath, or get moonbeams out of cowcumbers." "Well," said I, "I'm going to try." And try I did, and I'll tell yeou how I went to work. Jist as old Ben was sitting down to din ner, at 1 o'clock I rushed up to the hot house, at a high-pressure pace, red hot in the face, with my coat-tails in the air, my eyes rollin' about.like billiard-balls in con vulsions. Rat-tat-tat—ding-a-ling a ling. I kicked up an awful rumpus, and in a flash out came ole Ben himself. I had struck the right minit. He had a nap kin uner his chin, and carving-knife in his hand. I smelt the dinner as he open ed the door. Mr. Lerkius," said I' "I'm tarna tion glad to see you. I feared to yuo moughn't be at home—l'm almost out of breath. I'm come to tell you I can save a thousand dollars." "A thousand dollars," roared the old man : and I defy a weasel to go "pop" quicker then his face burst into smiles. "A thousand dollars! Yeou don't say so, Du tell. "Oh !" said I, "I see you are jist havin, dinner neow, I'll go and dine myself, and then come back and tell you all about it." "Nonsense," said he; "don't go away ; come in and sit down, and enjoy yourself, like a good fellow, and have a snack with me. lam anxious to hear what you have to say." I pretended to decline. 'sayin' thoroughly stirred up the old chap's curi osity, and it ended by his fairly pullin' me into the house and I made a rattlin' dinner of pork and beans. I managed for some time to dodge the main point of his inquiry. At last I finished eating and there was no further excuse for delay; besides, old Ben was get ting fidgety. "Come, neow," said he "no more pre face. About that thousand dollars come, let it out." "Well, I'll tell you what," said I, yeou have a darter, Misery Ann, to dispose of in marriage have you not ?" "What's that got to do with it ?" inter rupted he. "Hold your proud steeds—don't run off the track—a great deal to do with," said I. "Neow answer my question." "Well," said he, "I have." "And you intend, when she marries to give her $lO,OOO for a portion ?" "I do, he said. "Well, neow, there's the pint I'm com ing tew. Let me have her, and I'll take her with $9,000 and $9,000 from $lO.OOO accordin' to simple addition, jist leaves $l,OOO, and that will be clean pro fit—saved as slick as a whistle!" The next thing I knew there was a rapid interview going on between old Ben's foot and my coat tails—and I'm in clined to think the latter got the worst of Sunny Rooms, Every woman is wise enough and care ful enough to secure for her house-plants every bit of available sunshine during the cold winter months. Great care is taken to get southern exposure for them. Indeed, if one can secure no other than a north window for her plants, she has too much love for these unconscious, inanimate things to keep them at all. She would rather leave them out in the cold to die outright, than linger out a martyr existence in the shade. Folks need sunshine quite as much as plants do. Men and women who have a fair degree of strength and the use of their legs can get out into the world and get a glimpse of the sunshine now and then, and if they choose to do so, let them live in rooms with only a northern ex posure; but if possible, let us secure rooms into which every ray of sunshine that falls in winter may enter, for the little babies who are shut up iu the house, invalids who caunu szct-.1%, v 2.3 .ged people who are too infirm to get ciut,of doors. Let us reflect for a moment that these classes of persons, if kept in rooms with only north windows, will suffer just as much from the absence of sunshine, as green plants would do in the same rooms, and their suffering is of account in pro portion as a human being is better than a geranium or a fuchsia. Everybody knows bow a bright sunny day in winter gladdens every one who is so situated so as to enjoy it. Let us make some sacrifices, if need be, in order to give the feeble ones their measure of sunshine.—Laws of Life. Tooth Wash. The mouth has a temperature of nine ty-eight degrees, warmer than is ever ex perienced in the shade in the latitude of New England. It is well-known that if beef, for example, be exposed in the shade during the warmest of our summer days it will very soon begin to decompose. If we eat beef for dinner, the particles in variably find their way into the spaces be tween the teeth. Now if these particles of beef are not removed, they will fre quently remain till they are softened by decomposition. In most mouths this pro cess of decomposition is in constant pro gress. Ought we to be surprised that the gums and teeth against which these !de composing or putrifying masses lie should become subjects of disease ? Much has been said pro and con upon the use of soap with the tooth brush. My own ex perience and the experience of members of my family is highly favorable to the regular morning and evening use of soap. Castile or other good soap will answer this purpose. (Whatever is good for the hands and face is good for the teeth.) The slight unpleasant taste which soap has when we begin to use it will be un noticed. You have observed upon the teeth a yellow deposit, sometimes a black substance near the gums. If you examine either of them with a strong microscope, you will find it all alive with animalculas. These small animals live, keep house, and raise families of children, and die in your mouths. Nothing that can be safely introduced into the mouth checks them like soap. SEir The holidays are over. for the pato. Gail Hamilton Denounces Long Skirts. The following is the conclusion of a live ly article by Gail Hamilton : "And here come the costumers and flaunt long skirts in our faces once more. Do I blame the costumers? Not I. They have their living to get, and must invent or select continu ally.- But if the women of this country, having once tasted the freedom of short dresses, shall be mean-spirited enough to go into long ones again at the dictate of any costumer under the sun, they have themselves and nobody else to blame. A pretty thing it will be for them to talk about making laws, if they have not sense enough and spirit to keep out of the mud. A fine thing to be a republican sovereign when you ce not independence enough to resist the fiat of a foreign tyrant as to the cut of your gown ! For here is no question of thinking or not thinking about your dress. You can walk just as well with three flounces as with none, but a long dress interferes with the energies, the activities, the safety and the health of ev . . ery day. A long dress in the street means inconvenience, untidiness,discomfort, waste, indolence, repression, cramped muscles, subordination and slavery. If women re invest themselves in trailing skirts they deserve all the evilswhich may befall them. If women relinquish their short suits, may their husbands tyranize over them and abuse them forever ! May the woman's rights women be for ever forced to see men legislate and women sit still ! May the anti-women's rights women be forced to vote at the polls and to serve in the jury-box! May husbands ever control all the income of their wives, and may wives be forever disabled from disposing of their own property ! May the courts always have the power of dis possessing a mother of her child, and im posing upon it a guardingship foreign to her will ! May Bridget in the kitchen prick the pies with her hair-pin, and Jack Chinaman moisten the pie-crust from his mouth! May Mr. Thomas Naat portray the Coming Woman doing general house work, and Dr. Nathan Allen continue to publish in the religious newspapers cheer ful statistical articles on the decrease of the population of New England ! May Laura ever be obliged to pave the way to Frederick's purse with toothsome viands, and never know what it is to be joint sov ereign of the woman's kingdom! May sewing-machines be broken past remedy, and ruffles come in like a flood, and men wear seven bosoms to one shirt, and the bosom factories stop work, and all the laundries dry up ! May women receive one-quarter the wages of men, and do twice the work, and kid gloves go up to five dollars a pair, and tear out of the back of the hand the first time they are put on. In short, may women be held a subject race when they shall have proved them selves one, and be oppressed and spoiled evermore; for they will surely deserve it if they go back to the leeks and onions of Egypt after having eaten the manna and quails of the Promised Land. Fresh Fashion Notes. Amber jewelry is in vogue again. Grecian beuds have been voted vulgar. Blue silk is the reception dress en regle. French heeled shoes retain their popu larity. Dressmakers are sensibly reducing their prices. Jet is very much used for bonnet and dress trimming. Evening toilettes are still worn in deli cately decollette. Huntress breaktitst jackets have just been introduced. Low , pendent earrings continue popular and fashionable. Costumes for the promenade are not as gaudy as last season. Nilsson collars, cuffs, bonnets gloves, and bows are the rage. Pearl ornaments for brides are sup planting diamonds and gold. Tight-fitting basques find favor still among our leaders of fashion. Very novel and pretty bracelets from Vienna have just been introduced. Christmas will bring out permanently the fashions for the winter of 1871. Young ladies are wearing dog.skin gloves, for shopping in lieu of kid. The dress most fashionable and useful is the all round skirt worn with a court train. . . ........ The Reine Margot body is a novelty in dressmaking. It is made fitting tight to and coming far down on the bips,being copies ,1•1 illuminated works. . . The proper trimmings this winter are laces, furs satin and feathers. Opera cloaks are made this season with out hoods, and elaborately embroidered. Stylish suits for promenade are of heavy black reps silk, trimmed with velvet. Uniformitiy in the toilettes of brides maids is growing to be fearfully monoton ous. White linen cut-throat collars have been newly adopted by the ladies of the metro polis. Monograms on lockets and watches are considered indispensible embellishments now-a-days. Early Winter Fashions. The materials intended for Winter wear are excessively rich, both in color and quality. For morning dress, poplins, silks, reps. either of wool or silk, satin-cloth, cachemire and velveteen. These are only admissible in dark colors, light shades being reserved entirely for evening or full dress visits. For the latter occasion, satins, plain or striped, rich poult de sois, gros grains, faillies, velvet, plain and terry, will be much worn. Toilets of two materials will be greatly in favor, such as cachemire or poplin and silk, velvet and satin. The effect of different materials in the same color is very elegant, and in thoroughly good style. Striking colors are not likely to be worn together by our elegautes ; in fact, this Winter's toilets promise to assume a more sombre hue than usual, except for dinner and other occasions. The reversi ble striped satins are excessively elegant and rich. We have seen many specimens of them ; they are very thick and fall in splendid folds. We have seen some of these made up with part of the dress—with one side of the silk, and the tunic of the other; for instance, an under-skirt of blue and white satin, the tunic made with the same satin reversed, showing black and white stripes. The toilet was more start ling, than elegant; but another of striped satin, with a court train of plain satin, bod ice of the same, with revers, mousqutaire cuffs, and basques lined with the striped satin, was decidedly more elegant, and much richer in appearance.=Fashion Re porter. `-- -- _ NO. 1. at pat Sitar. Watch Mother. The following, entitled "{Patch Mother," is beautiful— ne of those little gems which touch the heart -Mother! watch the little feet, "ws Climbing o'er the garden wall, Bounding through the busy street, Ranging cellar, shed and hall. Never count the moments had, Never mind the time it costs, Little feet will go astray, Guide them, mother, while you rosy. Mother! watch the little hand, - Picking berries by the way, . Making houses in the sand, Taming up the fragrant hay. Never dare the que4tion aek, "Why to me this weary task?" Those same little hands may prove Messengers of light and love. Mother 1 watch the Itttle tongue Prattling . , eloquent and wild. What-Is said and what is snug, By the happy, joyous child. Catch the ward while yet unspoken, Stop the yew before 'tis broken, This same tongue may yet proclaim Blessings in a Savior's name, Mother! watch the little lie, rt Beating eon and warm for yon Wholesome lesions now invert, Keep, 0 keep thy young heart true, SoEiwtn'inglogotil cry p 'iw r e'd. ecious st4ar, liarcest rich you then may see, Ripening for eternity. Saved. BY H. D. BROOKE. One day in my history, while viewing the scenes of life, passing from one pic ture to another, I Came to one that partic ularly attracted my attention. It was 'the picture of a youth who had been - pardon ed of all past guilt. The load was gone; the stains removed ; all washed away in Jesus' blood; his countenance beamed with joy and the love of God. He walk ed in his statutes—passed along smoothly. Not a trouble, not a sorrow, to harrass his soul; but basked in the light of God, while Jesus smiled upon him. Farther on was another picture. Here the young man was arrested by tempta tion ; it held him, told him of pleasure, of happiness, that it could not be wrong, that all this would be enjoyment; was surrounded by ozioke€l-4.46..3.4. NI: , -hiv ing mother there to tell him—" Beware !" • No fond father to direct his footsteps; no kind friend to advise him to flee. But it seemed that this was the hour when fath er, mother, and friends all were absent, that the tempter came in his hellish pow er. The young man tottered, be fell— yielded to Satan's soothing chains. I looked, and behold devils danced in revelry around him in all their demoniac horror, and if there could be such a thing, there was a joy in hell. Then I looked up higher, and saw Jesus have a sorrow ful countenance. Oh, how sad he looked then pleading at the right hand of the throne. He showed his hands, his side, , 0 his feet. Angels were bathed in tears; they wept, they sighed. And if such a thing could be done there was sadness in heaven. Near by was another picture. And there I saw the repentant youth kneeling haose_thethe_thron& of_ .smaivDlss for mercy. God heard that prayer. Theg I saw him again clothed in the favor of the Father. What glory Allesl his soul' and how quickly the scene changed. Dev ils fled and hid themselves, and sadness' was in hell. Again I looked up, and saw Jesus wear a smiling face; the clouds that overshadowed it were all gone; ang els shouted, "Glory to God !" they sang for joy, rays of heavenly-healing light beamed all around, strains of celestial music were borne on holy breezes to the ears of the Almighty, and there was joy in heaven. Tender ministering aid came to him, and I saw him smile in the light of God, savedfrom the jawaof hell.—N. W. Clan', Advocate. God's Omniscience. God never forgets anything. All his works, from the creation of a world to the things of a leaf, are finished perfect. Did you ever stand under a full-boughed, heavy foliaged tree in summer time, and pluck' one of its myriad leaves and examine its delicate tracery, its coloring, the very perfection of its finished beauty, and then think of the countless number of such leaves, of the mighty forests whose luxu rious growth cover so 'much of the world, and reflect that among them all there is not a leaf unfinished, each perfect in its form and color ? And did you ever pick a flower, either from cultured garden or by wayside walk, enjoy its odor and bless its beauty, and uo flower of them all for gotten—the same careful hand filling its glowing heart with purfume, and coloring each leaf with care ? When we think of this omniscience, of this never-failing care, we feel something of the attributes of that power—unseen, yeteetexistasout‘; tuitouch- I ed, yet ever felt—who gives to the violet its cclor, to the rose its fragrance, who tints with beauty its tiniest leaf, and yet whose hand controls the planets in their courses, whose fiat rules the countless worlds.—Spurgeon. Pleasure and Piety. There is no single pleasure that a man ly man ought to love the flavor of, which is not permissible to the Christian. There is not a thing which a Christian may not have which every young man ought not to be ashamed to take. Piety does not shut up the avenues of enjoyment. True virtue makes every enjoying faculty more sensitive to joy. I repudiate and repel with scorn the imputation that when a man is a child of God, and is at peace with all God's laws in material things, so cial things, and moral things, he is shut up. He is enfranchised rather. He is en larged. He is ennobled. There is more music in him, in every single chord and faculty, than there can be in any other. There is no man so free, there is no man who has a range so boundless, as the man who is at peace with God. And yet there are mlutitudes of persons who suppose that there are peculiar pleasures which cannot be reaped except by a reprobate course. There never was any mistake greater than that.—Henry Ward Beecher. Diamond Dust. Abundance, like want, ruins many. The mind is the standard of the man. Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. He is a freeman whom the truth makes free. Wishing, of all employments, is the worst. Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil. It is better to suffer than to lose the power of suffering. Experience is a torch lighted in the ashes of our delusion,. The greatest temptation the devil has for the christian is—comfort.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers