VOL. 46.
The Huntingdon Journal.
.1. R. DUI:BORROW
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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.
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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.