VOL. 46 .
Phe Huntingdon Journal
F. IL DURBORROW
I'UDLISIIERS AND PRODDIETOUS.
Iffier the (',racy of Bachand Waehingtottetreete.
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Travellers' Guide
IRNNSYLVANIA RAIL ROAD.
TOO OP LLAVINCI OP TIAINS.
Winter
EASTWARD.
WESTWARD
r 7 60 LA.
g I'
STATION& per 111
I
Y. P. 11. P. 11.:A.311.
it ' a
i a.
' N.H .
amilton I 5 13,6 31
112 52,7 50 Mt. Union , l5 05,9 24
12 01
12 10,8 61 Mill Creek , 4 48:9 08
12 25 8 15 llotrisonox 5l 12 4 33,8 55
112 471 Petersburg .........-1....--14 1518 39
12 53 , Darree 4 06p3 31
1 07
123 , Birmingham........ ........ 3 44318 12
1 32 , 9 0607yrone lO 30 339 806
1 45 --- , Tipton _ 3 Z 5 7 57
153 llkstoria
1 58
......,Bell's Mi 115..........„ ...-- 8 18 7 47
200 940 Altoona *lO 00 300 30
i r X.. 1.11.1 P. X. P.M. A.Y.
14! -
15'5 20'
63j...«
~ i ::~~~
...._
pis ~
x.ls x.h
The Fast Line Eaststard, ]eaves A Itoona at 1•' 49
ad arrives at Huntingdon at 1 17 A. M.
The Cincinnati Express Eastward, loaves Altoona at
55 P. M.., and arrives at Huntingdon at T 05 P. M.
. .
FaCiflaxpress Eastward, leau.•a Altoona at 6 2.1 A. a.,
n I passes Huntingdon at 7 21 A. N.
Cincinnati Express Westward, loaves Huntingdon at
35 A. a., and arrives at Altoona at 4 50 A. a.
The Fast Line Westward, passes Huntingdon at 7 35
. at., and arrives at Altoona at 345 P. M.
lIINTINGDON AND BROAD TOP RAILROAD.
On and after Wednesday, Nov. 22d, 1870, Passenger
rains will arrive and depart as follows :
P Tan
Amax.
Accom.
STATIONS.
Long Siding
MeOonnellstown
Pleasant Grove
MarkWalburg
Coffee Ran_
A.M.
rsa 8 40
8 29i
8 13,
• 8 001
LI 00
08
21
30
46
1 oo
I 08
1 23
I 27
1 43
1 50
11 08
11 10
11 36
P.
e 5 20 •
5 23
6 42
49
0 03
CI Is
025
Rough and Ready
Cove
Fishers Summit
ftxton
!iddlestnirg
Hopewell
Pipers Run.
Tate! ills ---
Bloody Run
Mount Dallas.-....._.
[OUP'S RUN MUCCI
I Saxton,
SIII
Its 10 551
1 1 . 0 401
¢ 7 101
1. 0 0 -6101
Crawford._
Dudley
Broad Top City
JOHN MI
;ILLIFS:
Professional Cards.
MILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly
3 all legal business. Office in Cunningham's new
uilding. [jan.4,'7l.
IV ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at
-11-x... Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
teen to COLLECTIONS of all kinds ; to the settle
tent of Estates, fie.; and all other Legal Business
,rosecuted with fidelity cud dispatch.
As,— Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton
peer, Esq. Ljan.4,7l.
11 W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun-
A- • tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart,
i:sq. Lian.4,'7l.
THALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law,
• Huntingdon, Pa. Office, second floor of
,eister's new building. Intl street. Dan.4;7l.
A P. W. JOHNSTON, Surveyor
L-I-• and Scrivener, Huntingdon, Pa. AU kinds
f writing,. drafting. Ac., done at short notice.
Office on Smith street, over Woods A Williamson 's
.aw Office. [mayl2,'69.
PM. & M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys
• at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to
.11 kinds of legal business entrusted to their care.
Office on the south side of Hill street, fourth door
vest of Smith. 1jan.4,71.
T• SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at
-1.,
Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Mee, Hill street,
hree doors west of Smith. [jan.47l.
TA. POLLOCK, Surveyor and Real
• Estate Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend
o Surveying iu all its branches. Will also buy,
or rent Farms, Homes, and Real Estate of or-
Ty kind, in any part of the United States. Send
or a circular. (jan.47l.
DR. J. A. DEAVER, having located
at Franklincille, offers his professional ser
:ices to the community. [jan.4,'7l.
W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law
J• and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa.,
+oldiers' claims against the Government for back
my, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend-
Id to with great care and promptness.
Office on 0111 street. Dan. 4,71.
1011,1 SCOTT. S. T. MOWN. J. M. nAILEI•
‘,ICOTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At
torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions,
ind all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against
.he Government will be promptly prosecuted.
Office on Hill street. Dan.4,'7l.
DR. D. P. MILLER, Office on Hill
street, in the room formerly (megrim' by
Dr. John WenHoch, Huntingdon, Pa., would res
pectfully offer his professional services to the citi
zens of Huntingdon and vicinity. [jan.4,7l.
T It. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth
r., • (vary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun
tingdon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded.
Pure Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [n07.23,70.
DR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
profeesional services to the community.
OlEee . on Washington street, one door east of the
Catholic Parsonage. [jan.4,'7l.
EJ. GREENE, Dentist.
• moved to Leister's new buildii
lluntingdon.
RALLISON MILLER, IJentitt, has
• removed to the Brick Row, opposite the
Court House. Lian.4,'7l.
VXCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon.
Pa. JOHN 8. MILLER, Proprietor.
January 4, 1871.
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Grandfather is past ninety, and little May but
four;
Yet they love to sit together beside the cottage
door;
And as the old man dances his darling on his
knee,
He tells her of the far back time when he was
young as she.
Those long and rambling stories May oft before
has heard,
But she listens with wide-open ears to every
well-known word ;
And in her mind she wonders if lie remem
bers too
The man who live I in Noah's ark, when this
old world was new.
Grandfather's hair is scanty, and white as
driven snow,
While May's rich curls are golden, kissed by
the sun's warm glow ;
But as the young head nestles, fondly against
the old,
You see the sunlight blending the silver and
the gold.
-Grandfather is not book-learned, but from his
early youth
He has striven to walk heavenward, and loved
the way of truth ;
And now lie clasps his darling as the day is
getting dim,
And both together murmur a simple evening
hymn.
His stalwart sons come round him—and well
advanced in years—
tell Lim Low the world goes on, with all
its hopes and fears ;
But from their modern gossip he turns away
to hear
The childish prattle little May is whispering
in his ear.
Folks call the old man childish—it may be
even so—
His heart is as a little child's, and this we love
to know;
And somewhere it is written, that not the wise
alone,
But those who live in child-like faith, our
Father calls Lis own.
Grandfather is past ninety and little May but
four,
So they will not sit together long beside that
cottage door.
But we know when the old man from earth is
called away,
His God, and her's, will still protect Lis dar
ling little May.
x
IN LOVE WITH AN IDIOT.
I do not mean by the singular heading
of my article that falling in love with an
idiot is at all an unusual occurrence; and
I do not mean to hint some degree of idi
ocy is not always attendant upon one of
the parties in the affairs de couer ; nor will
I contradict the cynic who said that all
people in love are idiots. 1 only mean to
state a few facts, some of which are well
known to people hereaways.
Love is a species of insanity none the
less potent because it is voluntarily assum
ed. We have known men of fair attain
ments, and possessing good strong sense,
who cut capers when under the influence
of the naked god, which caused their friends
to stare We have seen men, as straight
as an arrow, and as fair as Caucasian
blood could make them, bend at the shrine
of some dingy divinity, as crooked in tem
per and dark in complexion as an Ethiop's
ear; and We have seen one of Pennsylva
nia's fairest daughters leave the refined
circles of literary, scientific and amiable
gentlemen, for the arms of a gangling
country schoolmaster, too confused to
speak, and too ignorant to write his at
tachment. In vain did papa scowl and
mamma cry; in vain did lawyers sneer and
clergymen pray; the belle saw only beau
ty in his warty face, grace in his ill-joint
ed limbs,.and wisdom in the head of Mr.
Birch—and warry Birch she would, and
did, in the spite of the world, the flesh,
and, as the lady. said, "in spite of the dev
;l" •
Yet we must admit that the superior
taste and love of congruity which distin
guishes the fairer sex, induces them to
rush with less haste into these mesalianres
than men. With women love is a delicate
and pretty sentiment, which she will shift,
as she shifts the flowers in her bonnet, ac
cording to the varying seasons and neces
sities of her condition; with men the mas
ter passion becomes a principle. But I
am getting prosy, and must give the de
tails of my story.
In the autumn of the year 1815, the
staid inhabitants of a county town of Fay
ette county, in this State, were set to gos
siping by the arrival of a young lawyer
named who announced his in
tention of settling in that town. A fine
person, genial manners, great industry,
and more than ordinary talents, set off and
graced by singular modesty, made 8-
highly acceptable to the villagers. Hav
ing influential relatives in Washington,
Harrisburg and Philadelphia, his company
was much sought after; but like a safe
youth, he buried himself in the duties of
his office, apparently careless about the at
tractions of the society of men or women
In one of his visits to Washington, he,
one fine afternoon in April, left the pol-
ished circles who formed little eddies about
the elegant wife of President Madison,
and turned the head of the horse upon
which he rode towards* Potomac. Pass
ing the battle-ground of Bladensburg, he
came, after a ride of an hour to the end of
the little bridge made so famous by the
attack and success of the English Admi
ral Cockburn. The day was sultry, and
stopping before the door of rather a taste
ful cottage, he flung the bridle over the
fence, and walked down the little path to
a well which stood in the yard. Looking
over the house, nothing could be seen ex
cept a pair of deep blue eyes, which peer
ed from an upper story window curiously
down upon him, seeming to watch his
motions with great interest. Looking at
her more intently, he beheld the fair
round face of a very pretty girl of about
seventeen summers. She had light hair,
regular features, and although more than
usually prepossessing, the lawyer might
have gone away, as he came, heart free, it
it had not been for something in the
blonde's deep blue eyes which made his
heart bleed.
WITH
BUSINESS CARDS,
LEGAL BLANKS,
PAMPHLETS,
"Young lady," said he, "will you assist
Eye plow ,rinter.
Grandfather's Darling.
ght Aortgeller.
BY G. B. WELDING.
HUNTINGDON, PA., JANUARY 18, 1871.
me in getting something from which to
drink ?" This well is deep, and if I should
drown myself in attempting to descend for
it, it will not add to the attractions of the
water."
The head disappeared from the window,
and in a moment the plump figure of the
girl appeared at the side door with a cup,
and placing it in the hand of the barrister,
he put his lips to the edge of the vessel,
and peering over the rim at the beautiful
girl he drank a long draught. If he had
been impressed before, now, when her fig
ure was displayed in all its captivating
graces, his heart beat more loudly than
ever. Every bullet had its billet. Young
S-- had passed unhurt through whole
batteries of bright eyes at Washington, to
be wounded beyond help by an accidental
shot from the eyes of a country lass at a
well.
The girl walked rapidly into the house,
leaving Mr. S- at the well, who mount
ed his horse and attempted flight. He
road a few steps and returned. The same
face at the window; the same blue eyes,
seeming to watch him with curious inter
est.
"Young lady will you have the kind
ness to inform me of the name of the gen
tleman who lives in this house ?"
A long curious look from the young
girl, and no answer.
"I am a respectable gentleman. My
name is S-, and I ask the name, inno
cently and honestly."
Again no answer, and again the lawyer
turned his horse's head away from the
cottage, muttering, '-confound it I feal
very unhappy."
The night was a long one, and the neat
day he mounted his beast, and with vouch
ers for his respectability, presented him
self again at the feet of the girl, to know
his fate. Throwing himself from the sad
dle, he walked boldly np to the door, and
knocked, a faded gentleman app .ared, and,
in grave and dignified tones, asked his
business. Upon placing the letters in his
hand, the host asked our visitor into a sit
ting room, furnished more elegantly than
the outward appearance of the house would
seem to indicate, and asked his business.
"May I ask, sir, if that young lady
whom I saw yesterday sitting at the win
dow is your daughter ?"
"It is my only daughter, sir, left to me
by mysainted wife, who has ascended, and
waits my coming."
- "I infer, from your garb and dress, sir,
that you are a clergyman."
"In the cities," said the old man grave
ly, "I would be called by that name. In
deed, rt one time, I held the occupancy of
Holy Trinity church, Philadelphia, but my
failing health rendering me incapable of
performing the arduous duties of a large
parish I resigned my post, and came here
to assume control over a small flock, and
to attend to the health of my daughter."
There was something indescribably sol
emn in the face and tone of the clergyman
as he uttered these last words. After a
pause, he continued.
"May I ask what I am indebted for the
honor of this visit?"
With more vehemence than he had ever
manifested in his life, the young lawyer
rapidly related the events of the day be
fore, winding up by the statement :
"I propose immediate marriage to your
daughter, provided the young lady will
have me."
The father bowed his head, and looked
sad.
"Mr. S-," he said, at length, "do
you know that my child has not a penny
in the world ?"
"I want to marry the girl herself, not
for her money," s lid the lawyer.
"Do you know," said the sire, "that my
daughter's maternal grandparent was hang
ed during the Revolution ?"
"Why do you teM me of her grandfath
er ?" said the lawyer, angrily. "I love
the girl, and would marry her if all her
grandparents had been hung since the
flood:"
Now there was a shade of pain, like the
flit of a disturbing cloud over the face of
a calm sunset, came and went over the
old man's face. Twice he placed his
hand on the red spot on his sad face, he
sighed deeply, and, after an effort, he
looked long and solemnly in the eyes of
his visitor, and in solemn tones remarked :
-Your language, your letter, and your
earnestness, satisfy me that I am adaress
ing a gentleman. I dare not treat your
honest love rudely."
The old gentleman paused, and again
the solemn flashes of sadness came overhis
face, while he looked as if he were survey
ing the long, shadowy past.
"I have not always, young man, been
buried as you see me, in this remote place.
I loved once, and the woman I loved now
wears the crown of martyrdom. At the
bidding of her Lord, she sacrificed the
luxuries of her elegant Philadelphia home
to follow the footsteps of a poor priest, who
followed his Master. And in the labors
and the loneliness of this place, she laid
her life on the altar of sacrifice, leaving
me with a desolate heart and this girl
whom you love. I have never doubted,"
added the old man, with fervor, "that He
would care for her."
"I will give her position, wealth, and
everything that money can buy," exclaim
ed Mr. S-.
"Do you know that my daughter is an
idiot? Come this way, young man."
The lover followed his future father-in
law up a flight of stairs.
"Look at your bride," said he, pointing
to a figure on the floor. HalfrecJining on
the floor and playing with a doll, was the
object of his attraction. The lawyer ap
proached the girl, and with the familiarity
which sincere love only can give, rever
ently lifted the mass of beautiful but sense
less beauty upon a chair, and placing his
hand upon her f)rehead, looked long and
intently down upon her blue eyes. Alas !
she returned one look, as men look at
things they do nut understand. It was all
too true. The barrister was looking at
vacuity.
For a moment the lawyer sighed, as
strong men sigh but once in their lives.
"I wish to speak with you a moment
alone," said S-.
'•We can speak here. She will under
stand no more than the dead."
The two gentlemen parted at a late hour
that evening, the faces of both pale and
wet.
When the snows of the neat winter
were whitening the Potomac with: foam,
S— and his bride stood before the altar
of Dr. ()'Bryan's Church, in Washington.
Ho looked ten years older. The sense of
an unearthly trust and responsibility was
consuming him When the ceremony was
over, the bridegroom took his wife in his
strong arms, as afather would take a child,
and wrapping his cloak about her tenderly,
placed her in the carriage. He stooped
over Ler and imprinted one kiss upon her
forehead. "It is the first," said be, "and
it will be the last !" He had loved but
once, and it was the last.
The traveler who loiters for an hour in
the quaint old town of Fayette, may see
the remains of an old garden at the rear of
one of the comfortable houses, and he may
see the slight bars which surround a pretty
window at the rear. Here, surrounded by
all that money and love could buy, lived
for forty years, the child wife of a brilliant
lawyer—the wife of a man who was ap
pointed District Attorney by President
Monroe, and who, from 1821 to 1827,
from 1831 to 1835 and from 1843 to 1847
—eight terms in all—served as Represen
tative in Congress of the United States.
Strange that in his strong, honest heart, at
a time of life when passion and desire hold
the ascendency, that this man should de
vote his fine mind, his money, his all, to
the care of a beautiful idiot. He secured
the attention of two Christian ladies, (one
of them an old flame of his,) end nothing
that could add to the comfort of the singu
lar wife was withheld. During his labors
as a statesman, the husband always hasten
ed back froni Washington, his hands full
of toys and trinkets, and would sit upon
the grass and amuse her.
Some years ago the child wife—now
grown old and gray, but still pleasant to
look upon—was carried from her home to
the place where the grass grows in the vil
lage church-yard; and often at eventide,
the villagers see an old man, with stooping
figure and furrowed face, bending his steps
toward the little church in the calm summer
evening and arranging with his hands the
flowers which bloom over the grave of the
IDIOT WIFE.
putting for theillion.
Importance of Sleep.
The cry for rest has always been louder
than the cry for food, not that it is more
important, but because it is often harder
to get. The best rest comes from sound
sleep. Of two men or women, otherwise
equal, the one who sleeps the best will be
the most moral, healthy and efficient.
Sleep will do much to cure irritability of
temper, pevishness, uneasiness. It will cure
cure insanity. It will restore to vigor an
overworked brain. It will build up and
make strong a weary body. It will do
much to cure dyspepsia. It will relieve
the languor and prostration felt by con
sumptives. It will cure hypocondria. It
will cure the blues. It will cure the head
ache. It will cure a broken spirit. It will
scrrow. Indeed, we might make a long
list of nervous maladies that sleep will
cure. The cure of sleeplessness, however,
is not so easy, particularly in those who
carry heavy responsibilities. The habit
of sleeping well is one which, if broken up
for any length of time is not easily regain
ed. Often a severe illness, treated by
powerful drugs. so deranges the nervous
system that sleep is never sleep—is never
sweet afterwards. Or perhaps, long con
tinued watchfulness produces the same ef
feet. Or hard study, or too little Axercise
of the Muscular system, or tea And spirit
drinking, and tobacco using To break up
the habit are required: First, a good,
clean bed. Second. sufficient exercise to
produce weal iness, and pleasant occupa
tion. Third, good air, and not too warm
a room. Fourth, freedom from too much
care. Fifth, a clean stomach. Sixth, a
clean conscience. Seventh, avoidance of
stimulants and narcotics. For those who
are overworked, haggard, nervous, who
pass sleepless nights, we commend the
adoption of such habits as will secure
sleep, otherwise life will be short, and what
there is of itsadly imperfect —Boy's Jour
nal.
OCCUPATION.—What a glorious thing
is occupation for the human heart! Those
who work hard seldom yield to real or
fancied sorrow. When grief sits down,
folds its bands, and mournfully feeds upon
its own tears, weaving the dim shadows
that a little exertion might sweep away in
to a funeral pall, the strong sptrit was
Flom of its might, and sorrow becomes
our master. When troubles flow upon
you dark and • heavy, toil not with the
waves, and wrestle not with the torrent ;
rather seek by occupation to divert the
dark waters that threaten to overwhelm
you into a thousand channels, which the
duties of life always present. Before you
dream of it, those waters will fbrtilize the
present and give birth to fresh flowers, that
will become pure and holy in the sunshine
which penetrates to the path of duty in
spite of every obstacle. Grief, after all, is
but a selfish feeling, and niostselfish is the
man who yields himself to the indulgence
of any passion which brings no joy to his
fellow-men
A Word to Stern Fathers.
It never can be too strongly impressed
upon the mind that nothing releases a pa
rent from his duties toward a child. No
waywardness, no disobedience, no rebellion,
no profligacy can ever justify a father in
casting a son or daughter adrift. 'We
hear of sons being cut off with a shilling,
of daughters being forbidden their father's
house, and, without any exception, such
cases are proof that, of whatever sins the
children may have been guilty, the father
is even more guilty. No person can com
mit against society so great a crime as a
father commits who is thus false to the
trust which he himself has imposed—who
thus thrusts off from himself the soul which
he called into being. A father should be
g ,verned by no motive but his child's best
interests, and a child's best interests can
never be served by anything but his fath
er's constant and loving care. If a child
is so bad that his influence is feared on
the other children, a separation may be ef
fected. If it is feared that money bestow
ed on him will be for his injury, provision
may be made against that, as in the ease I
have mentioned. But when a father, in a
fit of anger, or as a reward for ill-doing,
disinherit or refuses to see his child, he
commits a crime which the law indeed do
not recognize, but whose guilt it would
take many a legal crime to outweigh.
There should be absolutely no limit to pa
rental forgiveness and forbearance. Seven
times seventy times seven should the fath
er receive the prodigal son who seeks his
face; and if he never seeks it, if he goes,
stubborn and rebellious, not one atom of
fatherly care and interest should he relax;
for the child is his child, his offspring,
born of his will, and no vice or violence
can release the man from his solemn obli
gation to guard and guide, so far as possi
ble, the life which he dared to give.
Influence of Newspapers.
The Boston Traveller states that a school
teacher, who had enjoyed the benefit of a
long practice of his profession, and had
watched closely the influence of newspapers
upon the minds of a family of children,
gives as a result of his observations, that,
without exception, those scholars of both
sexes, and all ages, who have success to
newspapers at home, when compared with
those who have not, are
1. Better readers, excelling, in pronun
ciation, and consequently read more under
standingly.
2. They arc better spellers, and define
words with case and accuracy.
3. They obtain a partial knowledge in
geography in almost half the time it re
quires others, as the newspaper had made
them familiar with the location of import
ant places and nations, their governments
and doings.
4. They are better grammarians, for
having become familiar with every variety
of style in the newspaper, from common
place advertisements to the finished and
classical oration of the statesman, they more
readily comprehend the meaning of the
text, and consequently analyze its construc
tion with accuracy.
• 5. They write better compositions, using
better language, containing more thoughts
and still more clearly expressed.
From these simple facts three important
things can be deduced :
1. The responsibility of the press in sup
plying literature which shall be under
standingly expressed.
2. The absolute necessity of personal su
pervision of a child's reading by his parents.
3. Having once obtained a good, able
paper, no matter what the price, don't be
grudge it a heartyeupport.
A Touching Incident.
The world is full of mournful incidents.
How little do we know of the poignant
sorrow myriads of our fellow creatures are
compelled to suffer. The following touch
ing event we take from the Boston Jour.
nal:
"An expressman upon reaching his of
fice early one cold morning in January,
observed on the sideopc, a long-, heavy
box, which his practiced eye at once identi
fied as containing a corpse. Upon the end
of the box, shivering with cold, sat a little
half-clad boy, about seven or eight years of
age. Addressing him kindly, he said :
"My lad, don't sit there, you will freeze,
come in and sit by the stove."
Bursting into tears the little fellow re
plied. "No, I can't come, my mother is
in this box and I promised her that I
would not leave her until we got home."
Deeply affected with the touching devo
tion of this brave little fellow, he finally
succeeded in convincing him of the entire
safety of his precious charge, and taking
him to a neighboring restaurant, gave him
a warm breakfast, and then learned the
particulars of his story. His father died
about a year previously, in a remote vil
lage in Minnesota, leaving his mother in
poor health and nearly destitute. She died
but a few days before the boy's sad jour
ney, charged the little hero with the duty of
conveying the remains to her friends in a
distant State, and furnished him with (all
she had) a sum of money barely sufficient
to carry them both by freight cars to their
destination. The little fellow had actually
ridden night and day in a freight car with
his melancholy trust, never for a moment
losing sight of it.
THERE 15 a girl in Jersey whose lips are
so sweet that they stick together every
moaning by the honey tney distil, and she
cannot open her mouth until she has part
ed her lips with a silver knife. She will
be a treasure to her husband, not only on
account of her sweetness, but because she
can occasionally keep her mouth shut.
PROCRASTINATION IS th© thief of time.
Vile Iwo' utiget.
Rich music—A million air.
A bad place to get out at—the elbows.
What every teetotaler must come to at
last—His bier.
A goat is as good as a miller, but suc
ceeds better as a butter.
"Professor of the accumulative art" is
the California term for thief.
A Chicago millionaire is traveling all
through to find the best hotel in the world,
so that he can beat it when he returns.
"Pa," said a little friend of ours,
"what's the use of giving our little pigs
so much milk? They make hogsof them
selves." Pa walked away.
A musician, in giving notice of an in
tended concert, thus expressed it: During
the evening a number of songs may be
expected, too tedious to mention.
A St. Louis man is universally con
demned by his friends for circulating the
report that he was going to Europe, and
then merely visited Paris, Ky., and Rome,
N. Y.
"Have I not offered yon every advan
tage?" said a doting father to his sou.
"0, yes!" replied the youth; "but I could
not think of taking advantage of my
father?"
Here is one of Josh - Billings' late say_
ings: The man who spends all he can
make in charities, will git his reward here
and hereafter—but his reward here, will be
the poor house."
"My dear," said a sentimental wife,
'home, you know, is the dearest spot on
earth." "Well, yes," said the practical
husband, "it does cost about twice as much
as any other spot,"
Davy Crockett once graphically describ
ed the condition of a party of Mends af
ter a political jollification who were so
tipsy that neither of them could hit the
ground at three times throwing.
Mrs. Agassiz wrote: "I am never tired
of watching the sloth, he looks so delici
ously lazy." "It was hardly necessary,"
says the Christian Register, "to go to
Brazil to secure this gratification."
An Irishman writing a letter to his
sweet heart, asking whether she would ac
cept his love, or not, writes thus: "If you
don't love me, pleaze send back the letter
without breaking the seal."
Miss Pippine says the best thing that
most of the young gentlemen who call at
her house could take would be their leave;
and its merits would be increased in pro
portion to the earliness of the period at
which it is taken.
A thirty-two months' girl in Worcester
thus accostel her paternal relative a day
or two ago : "Papa, will you buy me
some holes to put in my ears, so I can
have some ear-rings?" Papa is now look
ing for the holes.
A Colorado bush-whacker, with his arm
in a sling, explained that a comrade kick
ed over his coffee pot, and, when he re
monstrated, put a bullet through his fin.
"But he has gone where he won't kick
over any more coffee pots," he added.
"It's a good thing to have a hansome
penman for a bean," said Mary, as she
glanced over a billet dour.
"Yes," replied Julia, "if the penman is
handsome, I don't care how ugly the pen
manship is."
Waltzing by a new name.—A shoddy
young lady surprised her mother on re
turning from a dance, saying that she en
joyed the '-hugging set to the music most
bully." She had reference to waltzing,
and why isn't that a good name for it ?
The difficulty of expressing one's self
in a foreign language is illustrated by the
remark of a German girl, who went to
see a fine boy baby, and, endeavoring to
express her admiration, said, "0 my! what
a nice fat babee! How fat she is, don't
he?"
A Massachusetts tradesman says : "A
man who is owing me a little bill said he
would call last week and pay me if he was
alive. e still appears in the street, but
as he did not call it is naturally supposed
he is dead, and is walking about to save
funeral expenses."
A parson, not "a sea-faring man," ect.,
thus explained to his hearers the main
idea of the text that hope is like an an
chor to the soul : "My friends, I suppose
you all know what an anchor is. It is a
kind of a thing to get a ship under good
headway with."
The best anecdote we have heard about
the late Dr. G- was this : The physi
cian had a brother a reverend. A lady
one day said to the former : "I wish you
were as good a man as your brother." "A
great deal bettei, madam," was the reply ;
"he preaches and I practice."
A Cincinnati lady, who recently found
the gas escaping in her servant's chamber,
asked her if she had blown it out instead
of turning it off, and was told that she
"was not so green as all that; she had
only turned it on again a little, that
it would be easier lighted in the mornin'."
A clergyman, in a recent city, quoted an
anecdote of an old merchant who instruct
ed his clerks: "When a man comes into
the store and talks of his honesty, watch
him; if he talks of his wealth, don't try
to sell to him; if he talks of his religion,
don't trust him a dollar."
A Cincinnati correspondent avers that
while passing the Wesleyan Female Col
lege, where young ladies go to "receive
the last touch of grace and gracefulness,"
a feeble lady haugingon her husband's arm
was cheerfully saluted from the group of
misses in the yard with, "Say! what are
you holdin' on to him for? He isn't
goin' to run off." He thinks they must
have finished their education.
NO. 3.
Vitt goat Cale.
Nothing Good Shaft Ever Perish.
Nothing good ahalliverportsk
Only the corrupt shall die;
Truth which men and angels cherish,
Flourishes eternally.
None are wholly God forsaken ;
All His sacred image wear ;
None so lost but should awaken.
in our hearts a brother's care.
Not a mind but has its mission—
Power of working woe or weal ;
So degraded none's condition,.
But the world his weight may feel.
Words of kindness words of warning,
Deem not thou may'st speak in vain ;
Even those thy counsel scorning,
Oft shall they return again.
Though the mind absorbed in pleasure,
Holds the voice of counsel light,
Yet doth faithful memory treasure
What at first it seemed so slight.
Words of kindness we have spoken,
May when we have passed away,
Heal, perhaps, some spirit broken,
Guide a brother led astray.
Thus our very thoughts are living,
Even when we are not here ;
Joy and consolation giving
To the friends who hold us dear.
Not an act but what is recorded,
Not a word but has its weight;
Every virtue is rewarded,
Outrage punished, soon or late.
Let no being, then be rated
Asa thing of little worth
Every soul that is created
Has its part to play on earth.
Sons of Zion.
Sons of Zion What a title • of - honerf..
How poetical and significant I Yet, under
the proud oppressor's hand, how are the
mighty fallen The purity of hearts and
sanctity of souls are nothing in the eyes of
wicked rulers. Although estimated by the
inspired penman as fine gold, good won are
accounted by the world as earthern pitch
ers. Men of truth, justice, benevolence—
men of holy principles and noble purposes,
are genuinely valuable. They have intrin
sic worth. They are the salt of the earth
—the light of the world. They are really
great and rich, although apparently weak
and poor. They covenanted in sacred broth
erhood; they are heirs of immortallty.—
Angels are their servants. Jesus Christ is
their Redeemer. Heaven is their home.
For them the universe revolves its shining
suns. All things are theirs. Believers of
every name and nation are the precious
sons of Zion, comparable to fine gold. They
who are faithful have a name and a credit
for Christ's sake, which are honored among
the shining hosts above, although they
may be often hungry, and hated, and hunt
ed down on earth. In all ages God's peo
ple have been at discount in the marts of
the world. Wealth mixes its alms with
curses, and tosses the compound toward
chill, shelterless pilgrims, as crusts and
bones to a dog. The Old Testament saints
were thus treated by peers of the realm and
sons of estate. The first disciples of Jesus
were ridiculed, mocked, and derided as the
offscourings of the earth—as the followers
of Him who was hanged. The Redeemer
himself appeared as a root out of dry ground.
He was despised and rejected of men. Down
through the whole history of the church,
good men have suffered persecution.—
Workday Christianity.
The Bow Drawn at a Venture.
A person well known in Glasgow for
superior talent and scientific attainments,
but withal for a tinge of skepticism in re
ligion, was met by an old companion hur
rying to the Tress Church, while the bells
were ringing fur the afternoon seivice.—
"Come," said the friend, "and hear Chal
mers." "I shall do no such thing," was
the reply. "Do you think I would trouble
myself to hear a madman ?" "You bad
better judge for yourself by coming for
once ;" and taking his arm, they were
speedily seated in the densely-crowded
church. Whit was the astonishment of
the skeptical gentleman when the Doctor
gave out for his text, 'I em not mad, most
noble Festns, but speak forth the words of
truth and soberness'.' He felt that his
false judgment of the preacher was rebu
ked, as it were, by a voice from heaven ;
and the sermon which he heard,—the ob
ject of which was to fix the ehargeof mad
ness where it ought to be fixed, on those
who, believing in a future world, continue
to live without God and without hope;
while it was shown that truth and sober•
ness were only with those who act accord
ing to their belief and profession of the
gospel—was admirably fitted for deepening
the impression made by the text, and for
removing the flimsy arguments of "philos
ophy, so-called." From that day forth the
gentleman became a constant hearer of Dr.
Chalmers, a confirmed believer in the doc
trines, and a steady performer of the duties
of the Christian faith.
YOUNG man, it is easy to be nobody.—
Go to the drinking saloon to spend your
leisure time. You need not drink much
now—just a little beer, or some other drink.
In the meantime play chequers, dominoes,
or something else to consume time; then
you will be sure not to read any useful
book ; or if you do read, let it be the "dime
novels" of the day. Thus go en keeping
your stomach full, head empty, and yourself
playing time-killing games, and in a few
years you will be nobody, unless you should
turn out to be a drunkard or professional
gambler, either of which is worse than to
be nobody.
THERE is no joy so great as that which
springs from a kind act or a pleasant deed ;
you may feel it at night when you rest, in
the morning when you rise, and through
the day when you are about your daily
business.
THEY who but seldom tastethe simplest
pleasure, kneel oftenest to the Giver and
the Cause.
A conaurrioN of morals usually follows
a profanation of tho Sabbath.