VOL. 46
e Huntingdon Journal.
J. A. NASH,
DURBORROW,
PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS.
on de Corner of Bath and Washington street..
HUNTINGDON Jounnet, is published every
iesday, by J. R. DURBORROW and J. A. NASH,
- the firm name of J. R. DURBORGOW & Co., at
per annum, IN ADVANCE, or $2,50 if not paid
six months from data of subscription, and
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paper discontinued, unless at the option of
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B PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and
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-bills. Blanks, Card, Pamphlets, he., of every
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Professional Cards .
C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law
• Office, No. —, Hill meet, Huntingdon,
[ap.19,71.
"ILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney-
at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
to collections, and all other Isgal business
led to with care and promptness. Office, No.
till street. [aplB,ll.
'ILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at
- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly
legal business. Office in Cunningham's ucw
ng. pan.4;7l.
R. G. D. ARNOLD, Graduate of the
University of Pennsylvania, offers his pro
nal services to the people of Huntingdon and
ty.
.v . E h ß o n E e '—
formerlyt'r' B.
practiced; e l i t
itt7 f it?. P an%
w of Philadelphia.
co on Washington street, West Huntingdon,
[ap.19,'71.
LISOX MILLER. 11. BCCOANAN.
"MUER & BUCHANAN,
DENTISTS,
228 Hill Street,
HUNTINGDON, PA.
it 5, '7l-Iy.
DENGATE, Saryeyor, Warriors
mark, Pa. [apl2,'7l.
CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law,
•No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied
sun. Woods & Williamson. [apl2,'7l.
L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T.
• Brcwn's new building, iru. ao, Hill St.,
ingdon, Pa. [apl2,'7l.
R. R. R. WIESTLLNG,
respeotfully offers his professional services
citizens of Huntingdon and vicinity.
cc removed to No. 818} Hill street, (Sans's
six o.) [apr.s,ll-Iy.
R. DURBORROW,....A.ttoiney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the
&l Courts of Ifuntingdon county. Particular
ion given to the settlement of estates of deco-
ce in he Jona:ea.'. Building. [feb.l,'7l
GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner
• "of Washington and Smith streets, lion
on, Pa. Dan.l2'7l.
ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at
• Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settle
of Estates, &e.; and all other Legal Business
;uteri with fidelity and dispatch.
f Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton
, Esq. Dan. 4,71.
W. NYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun
tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart,
[jan.4,ll.
HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law,
-11untingion, P. Office, second fluor of
w's new building, Ilill etreet. Ejan.4,7l.
31 Sr, M. S i LYTLE, Attorneys-
at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attelltd" . to
Lids of legal business entrusted to their earn.
eft on the south side of Hill street, fourth door
if Smith. Dan.4,'7l.
SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa. °Mee, Hill street,
doors west of Smith. Dan.47l.
A. POLLOCK, Surveyor and Real
Estate Agent, Jtuntingdon, Pa., will attend
rveying in all its branches. Will also buy,
r rent Earnis, Rouses and Real Estate of er
ind, in, any part of the United States. Send
circular. Lian.4'7l.
R. J. A. DEAVER, having located
at Franklinville, otters hie professional ear
to the community. Dan. 4,71.
W. M ATTERN, Attorney-at-Law
and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa.,
sra' claims againit the Goverlment for back
uounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend
with great care and promptness.
cc on Hill street.
SCOTT. S. T. BROWN. J. E. BAILEY.
'OTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At
torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions,
11 slaims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against
overnment will be promptly prosecuted.
ce on Hill street. [jan.4,7l.
R. D. P. MILLER, Office on Hill
street, in the room formerly occupied by
ohn APCulloch, Huntingdon, Pa., would reg
ally offer his professional services to the eiti
-3f Huntingdon and vicinity. Dan. 4,71.
R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth-
S
ecary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun
on, P. Prescriptions accurately compounded.
Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [n0v.23,'70.
R. A. B. BRIUBAUGH, offers his
professional services to the community.
ce on Washington street, one door east of the
die Parsonage. [jan.4,'7l.
J. GREENE, Dentist. Office re
/ moved to Leister's new building, Hill street
ingdon. • [jan.4,'7l.
Miscellaneous
OBT. BIN(, Merchant Taylor, 412
Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib
;hare of patronage respectfully solicited.
ril 12, 1871.
EAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT,
OR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT
UNITED STATES HOTEL,
HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA
JAIN & CO., PROPRIZTORS.
Mehls-tf
KCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon,
Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor.
auary 4, 1871.
)NR AD MEYER,
Inventor and Manniacturer of the
:LERRATED IRON FRAME PIANOS,
Varerooms, No. 722 Arch St., Phila.
received the Prise Medal of the World's Great
bition, London, England. The highest Prises
dad when and wherever exhibited. [Estab-
I in 1823.) March 29-3 mos.
The Huntin g don Journal.
TO ADVERTISERS
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p otte
BY OLIVER WENDELL EIOLUES.
Come, dear old comrade, you and I
Will steal an hour from days gone by—
The shining days when life was new,
And all was bright with morning dew—
The lusty days of long ago,
When you were Bill and I was Joe.
Your name may flaunt a titled train,
Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail ;
And mine as brief appendix wear
As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare ;
To-day, old friend, remember still
That I am Joe and you are Bill.
You've won the great world's envied prize,
And grand you look in people's eyes,
With HON. and LLD.
In big brave letters fair to see—
Your fist, old fellow I off they go
How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe?
You've worn the judge's ermined robe ;
You've taught your name to halt the globe ;
You've sung untukind a deathless strain;
You've made the dead past live again ;
The world may call you what it will,
But you and I are Joe and Bill.
The chafing young folks stare and say :
"See those old buffers, bent and gray—
They talk like fellows in their teens I
Mad, poor old boys I That's what it means."
And shake their heads; they little know
The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe.
llow Bill forgets his hour of pride,
While Joe sits smiling at his side ;
How Joe, in spite of time's disguise,
Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes—
Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill
As Joe looks fondly up at Bill.
All, pensive scholar, what is fame ?
A fitful tongue of leapinl. flame;
A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust,
That lifts a pinch of mortal dust;
A few swift years, and who can show
Which dust was Bill and which was Joe?
The weary idol takes his stand,
Holds up his bruised and aching hand,
While gaping thousands come and go—
How rain it seems, this empty show
Till all at once his pulses thrill;
'Tis poor old Joe's "God bless you, Bill.'
And shall we breathe in happier spheres
The names that pleased our mortal ears.
In some sweet lull of harp and song
For earth-born spirits none too long,
Just whi s pering of the world below
Where this wai - Bill, and that was Joe?
No matter ; while our home is here
No sounding name is half so dear :
When fades at length our lingering day,
Who cares what pompous tombstones say ?
Read on, the hearts that love us still,
Ric facet Joe; ilk facet Bill.
Abe ffiterg-Zeller.
BOLD STRIKE FOR A WIFE.
BY JUDGE CLARK.
It was my first visit North since I had
taken up my abode and entered on the
practice of my profession in New Orleans.
In the city of New York I had a very
dear friend, my old chum and classmate,
George Dickson, and as he was the only
person I knew in the metropolis, of course
I lost no time in looking him up
Three years had passed since our last
meeting, but ten could scarcely have pro
duced a change more marked than had ta
ken place in the appearance and manner of
my friend.
Our first greetings and friendly inqui
ries over I longed, yet forebore, to ask the
cause of my friend's melancholy. I felt
sure, in due time, of being made the con
fidant of the secret, provided no motive of
delicacy prompted its concealment.
That evening, in my room at the hotel,
George told me his story. He had formed
an attachment for a young lady, whose
grace of mind and person he portrayed
with all the fervor of a lawyer's eloquence.
She had returned his affection, but her
father had opposed his suit, having set his
heart on the marriage of his daughter to a
nephew of his.
This nephew was a young physician, of
profligate character, my friend assured me
—but that may have been prejudice—who
had long but unsuccessfully wooed his
cousin, to whom his proffers were as repug
nant as to Ler father they were acceptable.
Some months since, Mr. Parson, the
young lady's father, had gone South on
business, accompanied by his nephew. At
New Orleans he bad been seized by sudden
illness, which terminated fatally in three
days.
On the day preceding his death he had
executed a will, (which had since bee;,
duly proved by the deposition of the attest
ing
witness) containing a solemn req lest
that his daughter, to whom he left Ile
whole estate, should accept the hand of
his nephew in marriage, coupled with a
provision that in case the latter offered,
and she refused within a specified period
to enter into the proposed union, theentire
estate devised to the daughter should be
forfeited to the nephew.
_ _
To sacrifice her fortune to her heart's
choice would not have cost Julia Parson a
moment's hesitation, and nothing could
have more delighted George Dickson than
so fair an opportunity of sowing how su
perior his devotion was toall considerations
of personal advantages. But her father's
dyinc , b request, in Julia's eyes, was sacred.
It had surprised and stunned her, as he
had never gone beyond the most kindly re
monstrance, and had never hinted at any
thing like coercion.
Young Parson had not the magnanimity
to forego his ungenerous advantage. He
might have been content with his cousin's
fortune alone, but his right to that depend
ed on his offer and her rejection of an al
liance which she felt in conscience bound
to accept. The brief season of grace, which
she had been compelled to beg even with
tears, had already almost passed, and a few
days would witness the condemnation of
two lives to hopeless misery.
At the conclusion of my friend's narra
tive, in which, for reasons that may here
after be developed, I felt a peculiar inter
est. I prevailed upon hint. to accompany
me to a place of amu , einent, to which I
had previously procured tickets.
When we had reached the theatre the
performance had begun, but we succeeded
in finding seats which commanded a fair
view of the stage and the audience.
In a few moments George touched by
elbow.
PAMPHLETS,
"Observe the gentleman nearly opposite,
in front of the parquette, seated next the
column, leaning his arm on his cane," he
whispered.
In looking in the direction indicated I
saw a face whose striking resemblance to
one I had seen before, caused me to start
in surprise.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"Eldridge Parson," was the reply.
"The young physician of whom we have
been speaking ?"
"The same," my friend answered.
"Does he resemble his uncle ?" I was on
the point of inquiring, but just then the
stranger drew the glove from his right
hand, and I saw that the first joint of the
middle finger was wanting, which absorbed
my attention.
"Do you know the exact date of Mr.
Paron's death ?" I asked, when we had
gained the street at the close of the per
formance.
Bill and Joe.
"Yes," said George, it was the 22d of
December. His daughter received a tele
gram from her cousin announcing the fact
the same day. But why do you ask ?"
"I have a reason which may or may not
prove a good one." I returned, stating that
I had business engagements for the whole
day. I parted from my friend, promising
to meet him on the following evening.
Next afternoon found meat the Ace of
Dr. Parson.
"Dr. Parson, 1 presume ?" were the
words with which I accosted the gentleman
I had seen at the theatre.
•
"I ou may not remember me, Doctor,
but I believe we have met before."
"I beg pardon, sir, for not recollecting
the occasion."
"You were in New Orleans last winter,
were you not ?"
"I was," he answered with some embar
rassment.
"I am the gentlemen on whom you call.
ed to draft a will."
He turned pale, but said nothing in re
ply._ . _
saw a record of that will in the Sur•
rogate's office this morning," I resumed,
"You speak of my uncle's will," he in
terrupted.
"And yet," I continued, "you said it
was yours when you applied to have it
written. You represented yourself as de
' sirous of executing such a document pre
paratory to embarking on a perilous voy
age. The paper was drawn in accordance
with your instructions, the date to be filled
in at the time of signing. Your locks
were gray then, and you looked old enough
to have a marriageable daughter. But
your disguise was not perfect," and I point
ed to his mutilated finger.
"What do you mean?" he shouted in a
defiant tone, springing to his feet.
"Simply that your uncle's name to that
paper is a forgery," I answered, confront
ing him. "He died on the 23d of Decem
ber. Your own telegram to that effect 1
in existence. It was on the 24th, the day
before Christmas, that you called on me to
prepare the paper now on record as his
will. The inference is plain ; you under
took the manufacture of this spurious tes
tament after your uncle's death. Wishing
to clothe your villainy in a legal form, you
procured from me the required document.
You, or some one at your instigation, sim
ulated the signature of the deceed—the
witnesses who have since perjured them
selves, in some manner best known to your
self and—"
"Enough, sir, you have yourself possess
ed of a secret, the custody of which may
prove dangerous to you."
"I am not unprepared for your threat,"
I replied. "In the first place I did not
come unarmed, in the next place I have
prepared a full statement of the facts to
which I have alluded, with information be
sideg cf my present visit to yourself. This
paper will be delivered to a friend to whom
it is directed, unless within an hour I re
claim it from the messenger, who has been
instructed for that length of time to retain
it."
His face grew livid. His frame quiv
ered with mingled fear and rage.
"What is your purpos. ?" he exclaimed.
"To keep your secret while you live," I
answered, "on one condition."
"Name it."
'That you write instantly to Julia Par
son, renouncing all pretensions to her hand,
and absolutely withdrawing your proposal
of marriage."
After a moment's pause he seated him
self at his desk and hastily penned a brief
note, which he submitted to my inspection.
It was quite satisfactory.
"Be so good as to seal and address it,"
I said. He did so and handed it to me.
"I will see it delivered," I said, putting
it in my pocket and bowing myself out.
When I met George Dickson that even
ing. his old college look had come back.—
He had great news to tell me. The next
thing was to take me to see Julia, and it
is needless to tell what a happy evening
we spent together, and what a happy mar
riage followed not long after.
Eldridge Parson, I have just learned,
joined one of the late Cuban expeditions,
and was killed in a recent encounter with
the Spaniards.
If a man wishes to get rid of dyspepsia
he must give his stomach and brains less
to do. It will be of no service to him to
follow any particular regimen—to live on
chaff bread, or any such stuff—to weigh
his food, etc., so long as the brain is in a
constant state of excitement. Let that have
proper rest, and the stomach will perform
its functions. But if he pass fourteen or
fifteen hours a day in his office or counting
room, and take no exercise, his stomach
will inevitably beCome paralyzed, and if he
puts nothing into it but a cracker a day, it
will not digest it. In many cases it is the
brain that is the primary cause. Give that
delicate organ some rest. Leave your bu
siness behind you when you go to your
home. Do not sit down to your dinner
with your brows knit, and your mind ab
sorbed in casting up interest accounts.—
Never abridge the usual hours of sleep.—
Take more or less exercise in the open air
every day. Allow yourself some innocent
recreation. Eat moderately, slowly, and of
what you please, provided it be not the
shovel and tongs. If any particular dish
disagrees with you, however, never touch
it, or look at it. Do not imagine that you
must live on rye bread or oatmeal porridge;
a reasonable quantity of nutritious food is
essential to the mind as well as the body.
Above all, banish all thoughts of the sub
ject. If you have any treatises on dys
pepsia, domestic medicine, etc., put them
directly into the fire. If you are constantly
talking and thinking about dyspepsia, you
will surely have it. Endeavor to forget
that you have a stomach. Keep a clear
conscience • live temperately, regularly,
cleanly ; be industrious, too, but be tem
perate.
-
"WHEN a great man dies," says Quilp,
"the first thing done is to resolve to build
a monument to his memory, and the sec
ond is—not to build it."
OFall the passions, jealousy is that which
exacts the hardest service, the bitterest
wages. Its service is to watch the success
of our enemy; its wages to be sure of it.
HUNTINGDON, PA., MAY 10, 1871
"Yes, sir."
potellantono.
Good Advice to Dyspeptics.
Make Home Beautiful.
BY HESTER A. BENEDICT.
Ah, yes ; it is an old, old text, preached
from since the world began !
We are well aware of it ; and yet we
repeat the words, feeling that they hold
an infinitude of thought yet unexpressed;
feeling, too, that there are many who, hav
ing heard, have failed to heed them ; fail
ed to make, because of them, a sweeter
place to rest in, a fairer picture to feast
the eyes upon, when the day's work is
ended, and the little family is gathered in
the sitting-room of the cottage, which
though it may not boast its rose-wood and
its velvet, may yet have a warm, sweet
beauty of its own, equally satisfying and
restful.
We care not howsoever humble a home
may be, how poor in pursa its inmates,
nor how hard their daily toil, if there are
four walls, and four, or even two willing
hands, that home may bespeak a truer and
more highly cultured taste than many an
elegant mansion whose occupants have
gold, but lack refinement.
Show us the sitting or sleeping room of
a woman and we will show you a pen pic
ture of that woman's inner life. We will
tell you her thoughts, her hopes, and her
aspirations ; tell you how worthy she is,
or unworthy, to hold the heart of her hus
band and the honor of her children.
We speak of wives of workingmen, not
of those who purchas; the upholster's
taste. as they purchase game for dinner ;
and we speak of the inside of a home,
which is woman's rightful dominion, not
the outside, with which we may have
somewhat to do hereafter.
In the first place, there should be per
fect harmony of colors in the furnishing
of a room. If this be lacking, no room
can be pleasing to the eye, or restful to
the soul.
If the prevailing color of the carpet be
green, green damask for lounges, ottomans,
lambrequin, etc., is just as cheap, and as
easily obtained, as blue or rose-color, or
crimson ; and gven-tinted vases, Inexpen
sive, and tastefully arranged, matching
nicely on either end the mantle, with a
solid centre-piece, or upon brackets, either
side picture, give one or more enjoyable
feeling than if one sees here a short blue
vase, and there a tall white one, neither
in keeping with aught else in the room, if
we expect the mistress, who may have
a blonde face and hair, and yet be dressed
in colors that no blonde of good taste
would choose.
Furniture and little articles of adorn
ment, misplaced, though never so slightly;
bureau drawers a little ajar; a slipper here
or a hairpin there, give to a sleeping room
a neglected air, that speak volumes of ex
cuses for the husband's tardy coming; and
rooms, redolent of everything but soap and
water, are not apt to be a man's happiest
remembrances.
Now we know that some faces bending
over these lines will grow cloudy ; and
that some lips will say : "I wish whoever
wrote that article had half a dozen chil
dren, and her own work to do!" and we
are not sure but it is a good, and kind wish,
though it will not be spoken kindly.
Sadder things may come to one in life
than the realization of that very wish.
Divinest content should come to a moth
er with the coming of her children; and
labor has a quiet, honest dignity of its own
one should be proud to wear. How those
little ones are nurtured, and in what man
ner that labor is performed, determines
the happiness and the beauty of a home.
If children are allowed, simply because
they are cold or hunry, to leave caps,
books, gloves, etc., etc., lying promiscnos
ly about in setting or dining-room instead
of putting them in their places, home may
be forever in confusion, and the mother
wearied to death by what she terms, care,
when half her onnoyance is the result of
untidiness. Combs and brushes are left
nncleaned upon chair and window-sill;
towels thrown across the wash-pitcher or
stand, instead of being folded evenly and',
hung squarely upon the rack; water is left
in the basin and the soap bowl, and bits of
paper, shreds of linen, and crumbs of cake
and pastry, and here and there, and every-',
where, and one pair of hands cannot undo
the ruin of six, cheerfully or patiently.
The remedy for all this lies in a moth
er's determination to have herself a place
for everything, and in obliging herself and
her children to keep everything in its place
when not in immediate use.
This may be done,, must be done, or
home which is the synonym of all things
pure and sweet to cherish, will Le but a
prison-house where the spirits of unrest
are chained.— Workingman.
Economy in a Family.
There is nothing which goes so far to
wards placing the young people beyond
the reach of poverty as economy in the
management of household affairs. It mat
ters not whether a man furnishes little or
much for his family, if there is a continual
leakage in his kitchen or parlor; it runs
away, he knows not bow, and that demon
Waste cries, "More !" like the horseleech'a
daughter, until he that provided has no
more to give. It is the husband's place
to bring into the house, and it is the duty
of the wife to see that none goes wrong
fully out of it.
A man gets a wife to look after his af
fairs, and assist him in his journey through
life; to educate and prepare their chil
dren for a proper station in Life, and not to
dissipate his property. The husband's in
terest should be the wife's care, and her
greatest ambition to carry her no further
than his welfare or happiness, together
with that of her children. This should be
her sole aim, and the theatre of her ex
ploits in the bosom of her family, where
she may do as much towards making a for
tune as he can in a counting house or
work-shop.
It is not the money earned that makes a
man wealthy—it is what he saves from
his earnings. Self gratification, in dress,
or in appetite, or company than his purse
can well entertain, are equally pernicious.
The first adds vanity to extravagance,
the
second fastens a doctor's bill to a long
butcher's account, and the latter brings
intemperence, the worst of all evils.
Copy Hook.
A MICHIGAN woman found a live lizard
in the heart of a potato, with no visable
means of ingress, and has become insane
in sn attempt to decide whether the pota
to hatched the lizard from the seed, or the
lizard grew the potato as a sort of overcoat.
Ih who receives a good turn should
never forget it; he who does one should
never remember it.
THREE things to admire—intellectual
power, dignity and gracefulness.
" Some People will give up to their
Children."
"William, stop that noise, I say !—won't
you stop ? Stop, I tell you, or I'll slap
your mouth." '
William bawls a little louder.
"William, I tell you! If you don't stop
I'll whip you, sure."
William goes up a fifth and beats time
with his heels.
"I never saw such a child !—he's got
temper enough for the whole town; I'm
sure he didn't gait from me. Why don't
you be still? Whist. Wh-i-s-t. Come,
come, be still, won't you! Stop, stop, STOP,
I say ! • Don't you see this—don't you see
this stick ? See here now !" (Cuts the
air with the stick.)
William=more•furious, kicks very man
fully at his mother—grown redder in the
face, lets out the last note and begins to
reel and shake, and twist in a most spite
ful manner.
"Come, William ! come dear—that's a
darlinrranaughty William! come, thut's a
good boy ; don't cry, p-o-o-r little fellow,
ab-o-o-s-e you 'tall, eh ! Ma's 'itt,i2 man,
won't. a piece of sooger ?. Ma's 'ittle boy
got cramp; p-o-o-r 'ittle sick boy," &c.
William wipes,up, and minds, and eats
his sugar and stops. ,
AFTEE SCENE.—The minister is present.
and very nice talk is going on upon the
necessity of governing children. -"Too
true," - says mamma, "some people will give
up to their children, and it ruins them—
every child should be governed. But then
it won't do to carry it too far; if one whips
all the time it will break a child's spirit.
One ought to mia kindness and firmness
together in managing children."
"I think so," said the preacher; "firm
ness first and then kindness."
"Yes, sir; that's my practice exactly."
An Alphabet for Society.
A is an angel of blushing eighteen.
B is the ball where the Wngel was seen.
C is the Chaperone who cheated at cards.
I) is the Duextemps, with Frank of the
guards.
E is the eye which those soft lashes
cover.
F is the fan it peeped wickedly over.
G is the Glove of superlative kid.
II is the Hand which it spitefully hid.
I is the ice which the fair one demanded.
J is the Juvenile who hurried to hand
K is the Kerchief, a rare work of art.
C is the Lace which composed the chief
part.
M is the old Maid who watched the
girls dance.
N is the Nose she turned up at each
glance.
0 is the Ogle, just then in its prime.
P is the Partner who wouldn't keep
time.
Q's a Quadrille put instead of the Lan
cers.
R is the Remonstrances made by the
dancers. •
S is the Supper, where all went in pairs.
T is the Twaddle they talked on the
stairs.
U is the Uncle who "thought we'd be
going."
V is the Voice which the neice applied
"no" in.
W is the Waiter who sat up till eight.
X is the exit not perfectly straight.
Y is the )awning fit canned by the ball.
Z stands for Zero, or nothing at all.
Strength of character consists in two
things—power of will and power of self-.
restraint It requires two things, there
fore, for its existence—strong feelings and
strong command over them. Now, it is
here we make a grand mistake; we mis
take strong character. A man who dares
all before him, and before whoes frown do
mestics tremble, and whoes bursts of fury
make the children of his household quake—
because he has his will obeyed, and his own
way in all things, we call him a strong
man. The truth is he is a weak man. It
is his passions that are strong; he that is
mastered by them is weak. You must
measure a man by his strength of the pas
sions he subdues, and not by the power of
those which subdue him. And hence com
posure is very often the highest result of
strength. Did we ever see a man receive
a flagrant insult, and only grow a little
pale, and then reply quietly? That is a
man spiritually strong. Or did he never
see a man in anguish stand as if carved out
of solid rock, mastering himself? Or one
that bearing a hopeless daily trial, remains
silent, and never tells the world what
cankers his home peace ? That is strength. '
He who, with strong passions, remains
chaste; he who, keenly sensative, with
many hours of indignation in him, can be
provoked and yet restrain himself and for
give, those are strong men, and spiritual
heroes.
A BOY who had been told never to ask
for anything to eat away from home, went
into a neighbor's house when the lady hap
pened to be frying doughnuts.
-0, you are cooking," said he.
Aware that he had been well trained,
and anxious to see whether his appetite
would get the better of his manners, the
lady did not give him any of the dough
nuts.
"Well," said he, returning to the charge,
"your cakes look nice."
"0, very nice," said the lady; '•they are
the best I ever baked."
After playing with the cat a few min
utes he remarked, "and they smell very
nice."
O, yes, they smell very nice," was the
tantalizing answer.
"Well," said the boy, "I suppose if any
little child that was hungry should come
in here when you are cooking, you would
give him something to eat ?"
"Well, yes, I think I should."
"Then," said he, after another turn with
the cat, "I guess I must go home for I am
very hungry."
It is needless to add that he got a dough
nut.
A DEPUTY sheriff in Keene, New Hamp
shire, had a habit, when anything occurred
to him which he had forgotten to start off
quickly raising his right hand with the fore
finger extended, and prefacing his remarks
with the exclamation:
"By the way."
It being once his dutyas crier to give no
tice of the opening of the court, he began:
"Hear ye ! all persons having anything
to do before the Court of Common Pleas,
draw. nigh, give your attention, and ye
shall be heard."
Here be sat down, but remembering that
he had forgotten the finishing touches, in
stantly rose and exclaimed :
"By the way, God save the State of New
Hampshire !"
Bridesmaids.
Next to being a bride herself, every
young lady likes to be a bridesmaid. Wed
lock is thought by a large proportion of
the blooming sex to be contagious, and
much to the credit of their courage, fair
spinsters are not at all afraid of catching
it. So far as official conduct is concerned, *
when you have seen one bridesmaid, you
have seen the whole fascinating tribe.
Their leading duty seems to be to treat
the bride as " victim led with garlands to
the sacrifice." They consider it necessary
to exhort her to " cheer up. Her fair
assistants provide themselves with pun
gent essences lest she should faint at the
"trying moment," which, between you
and me, she has no more idea of doing
than she has of dying. It is true she
sometimes tells them she " feels as if she
should sink into the earth," and that they
respond, " poor dear !" and apply the
smelling-bottle; but she nevertheless goes
through her nuptial martyrdomwith great
fortitude. In nine cases out of ten the
bridegroom is more "flustered" than the
fragile and lovely creature at his side; but
nobody thinks of pitying him, poor fellow!
If one of the groomsmen does recommend
him to take a glass of wine before the cere
mony, "to steady his nerves," and advice
is given superciliously, as who should say :
"What a spoony you are, old fellow !"
Bridesmaids may lie considered a brides in
what lawyers call " inchoate" or incipient
state. They are looking forward to that
day of triumphant weakness when it shall
be their turn to be "poor dear creatured,"
and other else sustained and supported as
the law of nuptial pretences directs. Let
us hope they may not be disappointed.
Tit-Bits, Takeu an the Fly,
James Gorden Ben nett, of the New York
Herald, is said to have a fortune of 810,
000,000.
Humphery Marshall, of Kentucky, now
weighs about 400 pounds, and is very ac
tive and a hard worker.
Gen. Grant's next visit will be to Mas
sachusetts, to attend the anniversary ofthe
Army of the Potomac, in Boston, on the
12th of May.
Franklin and Marshall proposes, if $5O
000 are raised towards its endowment fund
by Lancaster county, to open the college
doors free to any boy in the county.
Mr. Mackey, Treasurer elect. has ap
pointed Hon. Thomas Nicholson, of Beavcr,
Cashier of the Treasury, the position held
by him under Mr. Mackey two years ago.
Traill Green, M. D.,of Northampton coun
ty, Jno. L. Atlee, M. D., of Lancaster coun
ty, and 1). W. Gross, of Dauphin county,
have been appointed trustees of the Penn
sylvania Lunatic Hospital at Harrisburg for
a term of three years each.
A Terrible outrage has just been per
petrated in Chesterfield county, South Car
olina. Robert Melton, delinquent tax col
lector, his wife and daughter were shot in
their own door by a party of disguised men.
The daughter only remains alive.
It is stated that the decision of the Su
preme Court at 'Wallington as to the con
stitutionality of the legal tender acts will
be delivered about the first of Sept. It is
belived that the decision will sustain the
constitutionality of the law.
Philadelphia has four thousand one
hundred and fifty nine licensed drinking
saloons, and the number of unlicensed is
over three thousand. According to this
showing there is in that city one rum shop
to about every one hundred of the popula
tion.
The portraits of Mr. Darwin represent
him as a big-browed man, with a foul beard,
a healthy neck, au intelligent eye, and a
very practical kind of expression—as if he
were a railroad conductor. There is some
thing in his side face a little like Socrates
and Theodore Parker. He bears no trace
of a Simian anchestry.
A son of John Tyler has taken part in
the recent war in Europe as a Uhlan in the
Twelfth army corps of Saxony. At the
breaking out of the war he was a student at
Freilberg. He distinguished himself in
several actions. A son of John Y. Mason,
of Virginia, also distinguished himself in
the French army.
The indications from the coal country
are more encouraging— we may say really
bright. There is apparent, on the part of
the miners, a disposition to accept the terms
lately offered by the operators, and in sev
eral districts they have already been favor
ably considered. In the compromise the
Trades Unions appear to be discarded, and
the miners are acting for themselves.
Troughs for supplying Locomotives
with water while in motion have been laid
on the Pennsylvania Central railroad, one
at Derry and another near Johnstown.
The troughs are 18 inches wide, 6 inches
deep, and 1.500 feet long. The scoop let
down from the locomotive will take up to
quantity of 2,200 gallons of water from
each trough.
The new Assistant Secretary of the In
terior, General Benjamin R. Cowan, is a
native of Ohio a man who has held several
important positions of trust in the State,
did good service during the war, and for
some time past has occupied the responsi
ble office of Internal Revenue Supervisor
for Ohio. We believe he will make a good
officer.
Mr. Thomas A. Scott was recently elec
ted president of the Shenandoah Railroad
at a meeting of directors held at Charles
town, Va. The Shenandoah road extends
from Harper's Ferry to Salem, Va., a dis
tance of two hundred and thirty miels, a
and forms an important link of the great
Southern line from Philadelphia and New
York to New Orleans.
The English members of the Joint High
Commission have finally received imforma
tion from their government that it approves
the terms of the settlement of all dis
puted points before the commission. They
will now proceed to draft treaties to be
submitted to both governments. There is
some talk among leading Senators here of
opposition to what is understood to be the
terms agreed upon about the Alabama and
fishery questions.
William M. Tweed is now believed to be
the third man, in point of wealth, in the
United States, be having boasted to several
persons that he was worth nearer $20,000,-
000 than $15,000,000. In 1861 he was
in the city of Washington, and, on inquiry
by some friend there, he stated that he had
got together $20,000,000, and, he added,
that he meant to keep it; for, as you may
know, Tweed and his brother, who were in
'business, failed a few years before the war,
and Tweed took the benefit of the bankrupt
act. He made his money as chief Tammany
manager.
NO. 19.
ghe goon Circle.
Bed-Time.
Baby faces clean and bright,
Little figures robed in white,
Voices lisping forth "good night."
Golden tinted, well brushed hair,
Shading foreheads smooth and-fair,
Folded fingers, infant prayer.
Eyelids drooped o'er sleepy eyes,
As the midnight hides the skies,
Veiling all their azure dyes.
Bright young heads laid down to rest
On the snowy pillow's breast,
As sinks the day-king in the west
Upon some pearly cloudlet's crest.
Childish voices mute and still,
Hushed in sleep as mountain rill
Bound in ice bands, bright, but chill.
Children slumbering, free from dread,
Mother praying by the bed,
Angels watching overhead.
Evening's solemn, silver chime,
Like some fairy's magic rhyme,
Meting out the flight of time.
And a Father's eye above,
Viewing all with look of love.
Human Flowers.
Humanity (like the inanimate world)
possesses flowers and weeds. The first are
gifted with superior beauty, for they par
take of divinity. The weeds engender
more poison and cause more pain, because
they arc the attributes of the "Evil One."
Among these "human flowers" which we
see blooming around us, are love, virtue,
content and generosity; and as I look
around me, I am struck with the beauty of
an infant—its blue eyes shyly peeping,
like modest violets, from their shady dell,
scanning the proud rose, and the wavering
flaxen ringlets pursuing their curling
will with playful dalliance around its
childish features; its prattling tongue be
speaks its innocence and mirth'. Surely,
a sweeter flower never bloomed than this I
No earthly flower can vie in beauty - or
erect its head in such comely grace—it is
the pet rose of the household's love, the
lily of domestic purity, the opening petal
inhaling the genial dews of Divinity. Ah,
how precious is this little bud of human
ity! While the sun of life and health
beams its kindly smile upon its fair form it
grows, it blooms, and blooms the brighter
as it higher grows, kindling the parent's
heart with a fire of love and joy, while
kindly cultivation points the road to man
hood. But should stern death demand
this smiling prize, how great the change !
The heart bereaved, once joyous, becomes
desolate, and droops and pines beneath af
fliction's drouth Yes, these are the flow=
ers of heaven's first planting. The pur
est and the best, sent to console us when
melancholy, and bids us hope for things to
come, to show us sweet simplicity, and to re
mind us of our love, happiness, and peace.
These flowers in life's pathway require,
like other precious plants, steady, kind, and
tender cultivation. Weeds will spring up
in every soil, and when we perceive these
little natural weeds springing from amidst
these flowers of duns, they require a gentle
but earnest uprooting; not hastily, or you
may spoil the flower that you wish to save.
When showers of passionate rain beat
down their little beds, take them under
your sheltering care, and dry their tears by
returning some of the hope to them that
they have given to you. These flowers,
too, are very profuse bloomers. They look
the fairer when in infant sport. They
bound and dance around beneath the
smiling sun of home, when all is gleeful
happiness, and watchful gardners shield
them from the storm. But, like all earth's
beauties, they must fade and pass away.
They germinate on earth; increase in
youth ; live their short life of blooming
sweetness; shed their tears, and die to
generate again in soil celestial. It is when
we see the shadow gently falling on its
drooping head that we must highly prize
the treasure of an intuit dead. We all
have hearts; and these hearts of ours are
gardens, whose soil requires a steadfast
cultivation, and if we turn them over with
the spade of conscience; eradicate the
weeds with the hoe of determination, and
sow the seeds of religion broad-east over
their whole surface, we shall then have
such a harvest of precious flowers that
their heavenly foliage will not allow the
growth, though it cannot stop the germi
nation of poisonous human weeds.
Cash to Go On With.
A Liverpool merchant met an acquain
tance one day in the market, and knowing
him to be a man of immoral life, began to
urge him, as he had done before, to come
to the Saviour. The other stopped him
by saying, "It's no use trying to make mo
a Christian. If I were one to-day, I should
go back again to-morrow. You know how
I'm living, and I've got no power now to
break my habits and be different." Our
friend then saw that he did not under
stand the gospel at all, though he fancied
he did, and he asked him, "If you, as a
merchant here in Liverpool, were to be
come unfortunate, fail in business, and get
into debt, what sort of a friend would you
want to help you "Why, I should like
one that would pay my debts," he said.
"So you would, at once; but would that be
enough ? Would that put you back where
you were before ?" "No," he said, after a
moment's thought, "I should want him to
give me cash to go on with, besides."
"And that's just what Jesus Christ would
do for you," said the Christian ; "he doesn't
only pay our debts; he gives us cash to go
on with, too."
Truth.
Truth is God's baptism on the hills.
First, it is like dew-drops silently descend
ing through a cloud of mist and vapor to
kiss the petals of some drooping flower.
Then it is a little pool, gathered in some
tiny basin in a fraternal embrace of atoms.
Then it is a rill, that goes cutting its
channel through the green moss, and down
the sloping hillside hastening to the meet
ing of the water below. Then it is a steam,
hurrying over precipices and down cascade
rocks, turning the great wheel of manu
facture, grinding the grain and working
the spindles and shuttles of man. Then it
is the river, slowly rolling onward through
the mighty channel, upon which great
barges rock, and the paddles of the steam
boat beat. And then—then it is the broad
sweep of the ocean, on which it is born
from land to land, the products of the in
dustry of the entire world. And that's
the way truth comes, and that's the way
truth acts.
TRUE RELIGION.—Lamps do not talk,
they simply shine. A lighthouse sounds
no drum, it beats no gong, and yet far over
the water its friendly spark is seen by the
mariner. So should it be proclaimed and
made known by its quiet works rather than
by loud or frequent protestations.