TOL. 46.
3 Huntingdon Journal.
J. A. NASII,
DURBORROW,
PUBLISHLRS •QD PROPRIETORS.
on the Corner of Bath and Washington etreete.
I HUNTINGDON Jouusxx is published every
esday, by J. R. DURBORROW and J. A. NAsa,
the firm name of J. R. DURDORROW & Co., at
per annum, IN ADVANCE, or $2,50 if not paid
six months from date of subscription, and
sot paid within the year.
paper discontinued, unless at the option of
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VERTISEMENTS will be inserted at Tim
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avz cam's per line for each subsequent inner
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cial notices will be inserted at TWELVE AND
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•ertising Agents must find their commission
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3 PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and
Colors, done with neatness and diepatch.-
-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, &c., of every
y and style, printed at the shortest notice,
eery thing in the Printing line will be execu
the most artistic manner and at the lowest
Professional Cards.
A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law,
. Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa.
[may3l,7l.
R. J. C. FLEMMING respectfully
offers his professional services to the citizens
ntingdon and vicinity. Office second door of
ngham's building, on corner of 4th and Hill
may 24.
.
C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law
• Office, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon,
[tip.l9,'7l.
"ITALLAM 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. [apl9,'7l.
ILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at
• Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly
legal businem. Office in Cunningham'. new
ng. U5p.4,11.
R. G. D. ARNOLD, Graduate of the
University of Pennsylvania, corers his pro
nal services to the people of Huntingdon and
ty.
FERENCE :-Dr. B. P. Hook,of Loysrille, Pa.,
.vhom he formerly practiced; Drs. Stine an/
tv of Philadelphia.
ce on Washington street, West Huntingdon,
[ap.19,'71.
AEON MILLER. B. ■UCMARAA.
"ILLER & BUCHANAN,
DENTISTS,
228 Hill Street,
HUNTINGDON, PA.
ril 5, 71-Iy.
DENGATE, Surveyor, Warriors
mark, P. [apl2,'7l.
CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law,
•No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied
mm. Woods & Williamson. (ap12,'71...
L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T:
• Brt ivies new building, Nu., 520, Hill St.,
ingdon, Pa. [apl2,'7l.
R. R. R. WIESTLING,
respectfully offers his professional services
3 citizens of Huntingdon and vicinity.
ce removed to No. 6184 - Hill street, (Sutra's
onta.) ' [apr.s,'7l-Iy.
R. DURBORROW,... Attorney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the
al Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular
tion given to the settlement of estates of dem-
lee in he JOURNAL Building. Ifeb.l,'7l
- GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner
-• of Washington and Smith streets, lion
3n, Pa. [jan.l2'7l.
ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at
-• Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
I to COLLECTIONS of all kinds ; to the settle
of Estates, &c.; and all other Legal Business
euted with fidelity and dispatch.
Er. Office in room latelyocCupied by R. Milton
r, Esq. Dan.4,'7l.
W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun
• tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sowell Stewart,
Dan. 4,11.
HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law,
Huntingdon, Pa. Office, second floor of
er's new building, Hill street: [jan.4,'7l.
M. & M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys
• at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to
inds of legal business entrusted to their care.
ice on the south side of Hill street, fourth door
of Smith. [jan.4,'7l.
SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at
. Low, Huntingdon, Po. Office, Hill street,
t doors west of Smith. [jan.4'7l.
A. POLLOCK, Surveyor and Real
s Estate Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend
irveying in all its branches. Will also buy,
or rent Farms, Houses, and Real Estate of ev
cind, in any part of the United States. Send
. circular. [jan.4'7l.
R. J. A. DEAVER, having located
' at Franklinville, offers his professional ser
a to the community. fjan.4,ll.
W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law
• and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa.,
i.e. , .rims again.* the Government for back
bounty, widow? and invalid peneione attend
) with great care and promptness.
nee on Hill street. rian.4,'7l.
SCOTT. S. T. BROWS. J. N. BAILEY
COTT, BROWN & BATLEY, At-
torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions,
all elaims of soldier. and soldiers' heirs against
Government will be promptly prosecuted.
ffice on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l.
IR. D. P. MILLER, Office on Hill
street, in the room formerly occupied by
John M'Culloch, Huntingdon, Pa., would res
fully offer his professional services to the cid
; of Huntingdon and vicinity. Dan.4,'7l.
R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth
• scary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun
'doe, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded.
e Liquors for Medicinal purposes. (n0v.23,70.
IR. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
professional services to the community.
Sine on Washington street, one door east of the
holic Parsonage. Dan. 4,71.
Office re
kg, Hill street
[jan.4,'7l.
' J. GREENE, Dentist.
a• moved to Leister's new buildinl
itingdon.
Miscellaneous.
)OBT. KING, Merchant Taylor, 412
il , Washington street, lluntingdon, Pa., a lib-
I share of patronage respectfully solicited.
,pril 124 1871.
TEAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT,
COR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT
UNITED STATES HOTEL,
HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA
I!LAIN & CO., PROPRIETORS
'XCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon,
A Pa. JOHN 8. MILLER, Proprietor.
lottery 4, 1871.
The Huntin g don Journal.
flit Pon' !own.
[Written for the JOURNAL.]
God's Love.
BY GIPSY WILDE.
A marvellous thing I
This love of His, that led my way
Through pain and anguish, mist and tears,
Through gloom of night and clouded day,
These many years.
Most wonderful!
Even when the Sun had set,
Nor light of Moon nor Stars did come
In all these years, His mercy yet
Hath led me home.
I count it strange I
That e'en while the dark and stealthy trail
Of grim Despair, wound in and out
The path of Hope, and all did fail—
His love did not.
Amazing love I
E'en when the dark-browed hosts of Wrong,
Rad crossed the highway of Right,
Out of the warring, and chaos and gloom,
Saved by His might.
And more than this!
When Duty pelted hard and long,
Deaf to the heart's wild yearning;
And suffering, endurance, and sacrifice,
Into the soul burning
Furrows of doubt and defiance,
And darker rebellion, that shames to ask
For a casual crumb, and scorning reliance
On God and Heaven, take to 1 fe
The bootlesti task
Of hating the Greatness
That giveth the power to be;
Despising the kindness of Him, who sayeth
"Come unto me I"
Indeed a miracle!
The tide of scorn sent up to Heaven
Was beaten back, by the love and might
Of Him—who pitying darkness—said
"Let there be light!"
And now from under the iron hoof
Of human blindness, I lift my head ;
The nails may have torn the quivering flesh,
The wound may sometimes bleed afresh,
But Doubt is dead.
f °WWI.
ADDRESS
Of the Republican State Committee of
Pennsylvania.
The Republican party, appealing once
more to the people of the State for their
support, points with just pride to its re
cord, and it fearlessly claims the renewed
confidence of the people because it has been
faithful to its trust, and is committed to
the only line of policy that can secure con
tinued prosperity to the State and Nation.
The Republicans of this State first car
ried both branches of the legislature in
1859, and first elected a Governor in 1860.
Since then it has held control of the legis
lative and executive branches of the Gov
ernment until last winter, when the Dem
ocrats obtained control, temporarily of the
Senate.
In 1861, when Gov. Curtin come into
office, the State Debt, in round numbers,
was $40,000,000. Shortly afterwards the
Southern Rebellion broke out, and the
State was compelled to borrow $3,500,000,
to arm the troops and protect our borders,
thus adding that much to the State Debt.
In the ten years that have since passed
away, this war loan of $3,500,000 has
been paid off ; the State Debt has been re
duced from $40,000,000 to a little over
$29,000,000 ; the three mill tax which
was levied far State purposes on real es
tate prior to 1861 has been repealed; the
tax on professions and occupations has
been taken off; the annual contribution of
the State to the Public Schools has been
greatly enlarged ; a system of schools has
been built up for the education and sup
port of the orphans of soldiers who died in
war—a noble benefaction, costing over a
million yearly; and the affairs of the State,
generally, have been so managed as to se
cure prosperity to the people.
The Republicans of the nation elected
their' Presidential candidate in 1860, and
succeeded, against many angry threats from
the opposition, in putting him into office
in March 1861. Almost immediately af
terwards the government was confronted
by an armed rebellion in the South, (openly
as well as secretly encouraged by many
Democrats in the North, whose sympathies
still remain with those who took arms to
overthrow the government,) and was com
pelled to maintain the honor'of the nation
al flag and the integrity of the country at
whatever cost; and the four years' war
which followed necessarily entailed a
heavy debt and burdensome taxation upon
the people.
Since the suppression of the rebellion,
the country has not only returned to peace
but to prosperity. The fears of many that
the nation would be bankrupt, her -indus
try paralyzed, and her people ruined, have
not been realized. No people ever recov
ered so soon, so steadily and so surely,
from the consequences of war, as we have
done; and for this recovery from the des
tructive influences of civil strife we are
mainly indebted to the fostering hand held
out by the national government to the in
dustries of the people.
Among the necessities growing out of
the Rebellion the National Government
found itself compelled to submit to the
States for their ratification, three amend
ments to the Constitution—one (known as
the thirteenth) abolishing slavery; another,
(the fourteenth,) securing the rights of
citizens to the enfranchised slaves, and
prohibiting the repudiation of any part of
the National Debt, or the payment of any
part of the Rebel Debt; and another (the
fifteenth,) prohibiting the States from ex-
eluding any one from the right of suffrage
on account of race, color, or previous con
dition of servitude.
These three amendments having all been
duly ratified in the method pointed out by
the Constitution, are now component parts
of that instrument. Their adoption stands
as the grandest peaceful achievement of
ancient or modern times. No party ever
before undertook so great a task ; and its
accomplishment, in so short a space of
time, is a work of which the Republican
party may well feel proud.
To secure the complete protection of
there emancipated and enfranchised people
is now one of the unquestioned duties of
the nation ; and no party is so fit to be en
trusted with that duty as the party which
has done the preliminary work. The party
which has hitherto continuously resisted
the policy thus established, is not the one,
now, to carry it out.
During the war for suppressing the
Rebellion, and in carrying out the great
measures which have necessarily flowed
from it, the Democratic party has contin
uously been in the opposition. It oppos
ed the adoption of stringent measures to
put down the Rebellion; the levying of
troops to suppress it ; the borrowing of
money to pay the coat of the war; the
Emancipation Proclamation of President
Lincoln.; the adoption of all the amend
ments to the Constitution; the recon
struction measures by which the revolted
Mab 15-tf
States were brought back into the Union;
and generally, every measure necessary to
the successful prosecution of the war, or
to the successful restoration of peace.
At present, too, it is opposed to the
means necessary for raising revenue to
pay the interest on the public debt, and
secure its steady reduction ; is in favor of
a semi-repudiation of that debt by paying
it in a depreciated currency; if paid at
all; is watching for an opportunity to an
nul the new amendments to the Constitu
tion; and is generally committed to any
line of policy which will remit the country
to its condition prior to 1860.
It may be urged, here, that the Demo
cratic party of this State, in the ninth res
olution of the platform adopted by its late
State Convention, has acquiesced in the
adoption of the amendments of the Con
stitution we have referred to, and cannot
be now charged with hostility to them.
We answer that the acquiescence express
ed in that resolution has not, itself, been
acquiesced in by the rank and file of the
party. Over one-third of the Convention
voted strenuously against it, and the ac
tion of the Convention has since been re
pudiated by many leading men and journ
als of the party. Besides, whatever acqui
escence-has been given, has been given
sullenly and not heartily—as a matter of
policy, springing from party necessity,
and not from a conviction of its propriety.
Wherever a vote has been honestly given,
or sincerely raised for this "New Depar
ture," it may very properly be regarded as
an extorted confession that the Republi
can party has all along
been right in what
the Democratic party has steadily opposed;
and this confessed, what need is there, or
can there be, for the further existence of
the Democratic party
When Gen. kraut came into office in
1869, he announced his determination to
secure the honest and filithful collection of
the revenue, the steady reduction of the
public debt, and such an abatement in tax
ation as was consistent with this policy.
In the space of little over two years this
determination. faithfully adhered to, has
resulted in paying off $230,000,000 of the
public debt, and in the abolition of nearly
all the taxes imposed under previous laws.
In addition to this he has, by
his wise and firm foreign policy, suc
ceeded in settling all our outstand
ing difficulties with Great Britain, in
a manner alike honorable and advan
tageous to us as a people. The treaty,
lately ratified by both nations, which re
moves all causes of quarrel, and establishes
peace and amity between them, has com
manded the admiration of the civilized
world, and placed the United States in the
foremost rank among the nations of the
earth. This result is one of which every
American may justly feel proud.
To continue the Republican party in
power is to continue the policy begun, both
in the State and Nation, of maintaining
the public credit, paying off our debt, re
ducing taxation, settling international dif
ficulties without blood shed, and sustaining
the great principles involved in the meas
ures necessarily growing out of the war.
To restore the Democratic party to pow
er is to destroy the public credit, pave the
way for repudiation, bring in the old tide
of corruption, mismanagement and extrav
agance, and open up anew all the questions
involved in the reconstruction of the south
ern States, now settled upon an honorable
basis.
For present proof of this we refer to the
consequences flowing from the accidental
majority of the Democrats in the State
Senate last winter. To that fact we owe a
session prolonged to the middle of May, at
an extra cost of $lOO,OOO ; the re-estab
lishment of the forsaken policy of employ
ing extra (and useless) officers in the Leg
islative bodies and granting them extra
pay; an appropriation bill increased be
yond all former bounds, to the extent of
half a million ; the defeat of all measures
for calling a Constitutional Convention at
an early day to put an end to that curse of
our State, SPECIAL LEGISLATION ; and, as
if determined to show that this curse
should not be removed by their aid, the
enactment of the enormous number of
1800 local bills. And this is but a tithe
of what we should have had to endure had
they had both Houses and the Governor
on their side.
A still further proof of the unfitness of
that party to be entrusted with power. is
to be found in the melancholy history of
the late riots in New York. In that city
the Democrats have undisputed sway, and,
through it, in the State. They had the
power in their hands to prevent this riot
and bloodshed, but they would not use it
either at the right time or in the right
way. Why? Because the party is pos
sessed of no principle which can lead it to
respect the rights of man, be they civil or
religious. Its sole idea of rights is de
rived from the maxim that MIGHT makes
RIGHT. This was clearly evinced in the
debate in our State Senate, in 1869, on
the Fifteenth Amendment, in which the
Democratic leader in the State scouted the
claim that there were any such ,things as
human rights. The idea, he said, was a
myth and a humbug.
_ _
- And this sentiment of the Democratic
leader in Pennsylvania has been carried
out to the letter in New York. A few
thousand men, in the exercise of their
Constitutional right to assemble together,
inform the authorities of their purpose to
parade the streets on a certain day. An
other body of men, who always vote the
Democratic ticket, and numbering many
more thousands, notify the authorities that
this parade must not be permitted, and
that if it is, they will attack it and dis
perse it, no matter at what cost of life or
limb to the party attacked. The Demo
cratic rulers of New York at once decline
to defend the few against the many in the
exercise of their Constitutional right; deny
that there is any such right; yield to the
defiance of the mob, because it has might
on its side, and, at the demand of that
mob, forbid the peaceable and law-abiding
citizens to assemble together, as the Con
stitution permits, or to exercise the rights
which the law allows.
It is true that at the last hour, when
the public indignation had been aroused
at this base abandonment of the civil rights
of the people, the State authorities stepped
in and permitted what the city authorities
had previously forbidden ; but the mob had
already triumphed too far to yield peace
fully to this sudden change, and the slaugh
ter which followed is attributable solely
to the official cowardice which first yield
ed to a mob it was afterwards unable to
control.
It is plain, moreover, that the first act,
of prohibiting the parade, was the legiti
mate outgrowth of the principles controll
ing the Democratic party. that MIOHT
alone gives RIGHT. It brought into view
the ferocious claws which, though after
wards withdrawn, the furred foot could
not wholly conceal. It was a clear indica
tion of what we may expect throughout
HUNTINGDON, PA., AUGUST 2, 1871
the country should the Democrat party ever
returu to power.
If our civil and religious rights are to
be preserved in this country against the
attacks of turbulent mobs and the demands
of a wild fanaticism they can be preserved
only by the party based immovably on a
deep regard for Human Rights and Con
stitutional guarantees ; and in the light of
these facts we appeal to the people of Penn
sylvania to rally to the support of their
imperilled Constitutional franchises, and
by the defeat of the Democratic party,
which has proven itself alike unwilling and
unable to uphold them, teach it that the
people will bear no yielding to mob vio
lence nor tampering with their constitu
tional rights, and will never permit the
surrender of the citadel they have erected
at a bloody coat sacred, now and forever, to
CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY.
RUSSELL ERRETT, Ch'uian.
EZRA LUKENS,
D. F. HOUSTON, Secretaries.
P. N. LYTLE,
, T.olttro' p* t,
The Force of Imagination.
Buckland, the distinguished geologist
one day gave a dinner, after dissecting a
Mississippi alligator, having asked a good
many of the most distinguished of his
classes to dine with him. His house and
all his establishment were in good style
and taste. His guests congregated. The
dinner-table looked splendidly with glass
china and plate, and the meal commenced
with excellent soup.
"How do you like the soup ?" asked the
Doctor, after having finished his own plate
addressing a famous gournmad of the day.
"Very good, indeed," answered the
other; "turtle, is it not ? I only ask be
cause Ido not find any green fat." The
doctor shook his head.
"I think it has somewhat of a musky
taste," says another; "not unpleasant,
but peculiar."
"Alligators have," replied Buckland,"
the cayman peculiarly so. The fellow I
dissected this morning, and which you
have just been eating—"
There was a general rout of guests ;
every one turned pale. Half a dozen
started from the table ; two or three ran
out of the room, and only those who had
stout stomachs remained to the close of an
excellent entertainment.
"See what imagination is" said Buck
land. "If I had told them it was turtle,
or terrapin, or bird's-nest soup, salt water
amphibia, or fresh, or the gluten of fish
from the maw of a sea-bird, they would
have pronounced it excellent, and their
digestion would have been none the worse.
Such is prejudice."
"But was it really an alligator ?" asked
a lady.
"As good a crtlf's head as ever wore a
coronet," answered Buckland.
What's in a Name ?
In an Eastern town there is a woman
who is exceedingly deaf, and her affliction
Lau caused sin azt”,,,,01,,4
take, of which her infant child is the vie=
tim. She took the baby to church the
other day to have him baptized. While
she was waiting in the vestibule, she
thought she would keep him quietby feed
ing him from a bottle of milk. While the
youngster was taking his nourishment, the
mother was summoned to the church by
the announcment that the minister was
ready. In her agitation she drew the bot
tle from the child's mouth hurriedly, when
the gum nozzle came off, and some milk
was spilled on the child's new clothes.
When the clergyman took the child in his
arms, he looked down upon it, and asked
the mother what name should be given it.
She, having her mind troubled about the
accident, thought he was asking how the
clothes were soiled, so she answered :
"Nozzle came off."
Rather surprised, he asked again for the
name, and then thinking he did not under
stand her, she bawled out:
"Nozzle came off, I say."
Whereup)n the astonished divine pour
ed water over the child's head, saying :
"Nozzle-came•off Furgeson, I baptize
thee," &c.
What this woman wants to know, is
whether the Legislature, or something,
cannot change that child's name to Henry,
or Lucullus, or William, or some other
euphonious appellation.
AN Englishman, employed in a family
living in Cleveland, while dusting in the
library, accidentally knocked over aplaster
bust of Washington, which, falling on the
floor was broken into a thousand pieces.
Shortly after, one of the members of the
family found the servant seated in the
midst of the fragments and crying bitterly,
whereupon the following conversation en
sued :
`John, what is the matter?'
'0 ! I haccidentally knocked hover
this bust while dusting, hand hit's hall
broken to pieces,' said John.
'Well never mind, it didn't cost much.'
'Hit hisa't the cost him thinking hoff,
but, the disrespect to the man.'
A THIRSTY gent enters the bar-room of
a first-class hotel early in the day :
'Landlord, I guess I've gotsense enough
to take a drink this morning.'
Obsequious bar-tender furnishes the de
sired beverage, and the thirsty gent smiles,
smacks his lips, and remarks :
'Well, old top, that's prime, but I'm
cussed if I've got cents enough to pay for
it.'
A LADY had a custom of saying to a favo
rite little dog, to make him follow her.
"Come along, sir."
A would-be-wit stepped up to her one
day, and accosted her with,
"Is it me, madam, you called?"
"Oh, no. sir." said the lady, "it was
another puppy I spoke to."
SAID a pompous husband, whose wife
had stolen up behind him and given him
a kiss, "Madam, I consider such an act
indecorous !" "Excuse me," said the
wife, "I didn't know it was you.",
A YOUNG lady, while walking with a
gentleman, stumbled, and when her com
panion, to prevent her falling, grasped her
hand somewhat tightly, she simpered, "Oh,
sir, if it conies to that, you must ask my
"Win' do you drive such a pitiful look
ing carcass as that? Why don't you put a
heavier coat of flesh on him, Pat ?"
"A heavier coat of flesh on him ? By the
powers, the poor creature can hardly carry
what little there is on him now !"
How to make a hotbed—set the mat
tresses on fire.
-J; istellantoo.
Beginning at the Right End
All Greenville knew that Will Norton
and Kate Jedley were going to marry. In
deed the parties interested made no secret
of the matter; for months piles of snowy
linen had been steadily growing beneath
Kate's nimble fingers, and as fiir Will, he
was equally busy.
And for the marvel, most people seemed
to be satisfied and agreed in saying what a
good match it was, and what a fine couple
they would make. Kate was so neat and
industrious; not strictly beautiful, but with
a natural loveliness that youth, health and
a sweet temper gives to every woman. And
Will was a steady, sensible young man,
with a stout heart and broad shoulders,
with which to push his way into the world.
They had brought unto this mutual
partnership, together with the wealth of
loving hearts, and strong, helpful hands, a
little of worldly gear. Will's consisted of
a new and pretty cottage, every stick of
which was laid with his own hands—for
he was a house-carpenter—and every room
constructed with an eye to the comfort and
convenience of its expected mistress. Kate's
dowry consisted of a few hundred dollars
left her by an uncle, which was to be hers
at the age of eighteen, or to the day of
her marriage.
Kate thought the best use to put the
money to would be to furnish the house,
and go at once to housekeeping, and Will
agreed with her. _ _
Then came the all-important subject of
selections, for Kate 11:.0 only a certain
amount, and was anxious to lay it out to
best advantage. She had neither mother
nor sister, but fortunately, Aunt Sarah, a
kind-hearted, sensible woman with no lit
tle experience in such matters, was ou her
annual visit to her brother's house, and she
determined to avail herself of her counsel
and assistance.
The old lady had been but a few days
in the house, but her sharp, kindly eyes
had been sufficiently observing; so she was
nut ut all surprised when her neje° said,
with a slight blush :
"I am going to be married next month,
aunty."
"So I judge, from the appearance of
things, my dear. And, unless my old eyes
deceive me, you will have a goodhusband."
. .
"Will is one of the best iand kindest of
men," returned Kate, with a pleasant and
happy smile. "I only wish he was sure of
gettinc , ' a good wife. You know the money
Uncle Eli left me. Will has b , .ilt a beau
tiful little cottage, and I think of furnish
ing it. so that we can go to house-keeping
directly. And, as I shall have to buy a
great many things, I should like your ad
vice in selecting and arranging them."
"I think yoir plan a very good one,
Deice, and shall be glad to give you any
assistance in my power. It will be less
expensive than boarding, besides being so
much pleasanter."
The next day Bate showed her aunt
over the house, which had just been paint.
ed, papered and blinded. The ground floor
contained four rooms—parlor , sit tin ..-room
and above were
-I:4.lbm_smd
the chambars.
They looked verypleasaut and convenient,
and Aunt Sarah duly admired them, to
Kate's great satisfaction.
"I shall have enough to furnish it very
nicely," she said, "and shall take so much
pleasure iu arranging and selecting it."
"You will have enough to make you ve
ry comfortable, my dear," returned Aunt
Sarah, "but you must not count a great
deal for mere outward show."
"Oh, no, aunt, I intend to do with
things that are plain and inexpensive, un
til we can afford to have better. I think
we will go to Brown's first. I saw some
carpeting and curtains there that will be
such a nice match for the parlor paper,
and very reasonable too."
As they were walking along, Aunt Sarah
suggested that before purchasing, she
make an inventory of that she intended
to get, together with the price. To this
Kate agreed, though she was confident
that she had ample means to carry out the
plans she had laid down.
So Kate began to select her furniture;
first for the parlor, then for the sitting
room, then for the chambers, jotting down
the price of each article. Then they went
home to dinner.
Aunt Sarah promised to make out a list
of what kitchen furniture she would need,
and after dinner she sat down to redeem
it. In the meantime Kate, at her sug
gestion, began to add up the long row of
figures that had been the result of her
morning's work. Her cheeks flushed as
she proceeded, and the result seemed very
unsatisfactory, for she went over it twice
Aunt Sarah noticed her perplexity.
"How much will you have left for your
kitchen furniture ?" she inquired.
"Three dollars and five cents!"
The old lady smiled.
"You will have enough to get a couple
of tin plates and half a dozen knives and
forks.
"I don't understand it. I thought
I had quite enough to furnish the house
comfortably."
"And so you have my dear ; but in
your selection you have an eye more to
show than comfort. I thought that I
would let you take your own way, but I
knew very well where it would terminate
for you did not begin at the right end."
"I do not know what you mean, aunt."
"Why, yon should have begun with the
kitchen and thus have secured the things
you must have. Then, if there is any
thing for the parlor, it could easily be
goo
Kate looked aghast at the list of articles
that was handed her.
"Shall I need all these things, aunt ?"
If yon wish to do your work well and
economically, you cannot get along with
less. Never stint the kitchen t) snake a
show in the parlor."
"I don't see that I shall have anything
left for the parlor," said Kate after a few
minutes calculation of the figures before
her; "the kitchen, sitting-room, dining
room and chambers will take the whole.
"And supposing that it should remain
unfurnished, at least for the present.
Those who come to see you will not ob
ject to being received in your sitting-room,
and those who come to see your furniture
arc not worth being received at all."
"But dim it will be so odd, so different•
from what other people do. Mrs. Weston
has her parlor very nicely furnished."
Mrs. Weston was an old schoolmate, who
had married a few week before.
"Yes, and I happen to know how it w.
paid for. Mr. Weston mortgaged his
house. I presume your husband can do
the same."
Kate's natural good sense recoiled at
this suggestion.
"I would rather never have any parlor,"
she exclaimed.
"Perhaps we can do with less in the
sitting-room," she suggested, as she ran
her eyes again over the list of articles.
"I suppose that the sitting-room will be
the place where you will spend the most
of your evenings, and the most of your
spare time ?"
"Yes."
"Then take the advice of an old married
woman, my dear, and make the room where
your husband spends his evenings the
pleasantest one in the house."
Kate followed Sarah's advice, and has
never had reason to regret it.
Five years later Mr. Weston's mortgaged
house was sold under the hammer, and all
his fine furniture went with it.
Kate has now a pretty furnished parlor.
and she enjoys it none the less that none
of its adornments were purchased at the
expense of the happiness of home and the
substantial comforts of life.
What Will You Have ?
The group stood besides the marble slab
-that formed the bar of a saloon. The lights
flashed from the costly chandelier, and
showed well the gilded room built by the
earnings of working men. "What will
you have ? what will you have ?" cried the
bar-tender. A young man looked around
and said, "Bitter ale." -
There was nothing to do but press a
lever, and the tankard, with its foamy
crown, was at his lips, and the glasses were
filled and refilled. When be went home
to his mother's there was no marble table,
no flashing light, and he was short of tem
per, aye, even to his mother ! And he
found his way back, evening after even
ing, and had bitter ale, whisky - , and water
and gin ; for you must increase the dose
as you proceed. And now he has a young
wife, in whose eyes there is no more of the
old light; and he has four little children,
who go to no school, for tLey have nothing
to wear, and hardly enough to eat. And
he has blotches on that once frank and
honest face. There is an unhealthy red
ness about his eyes; his lips are flabby,
swoolen,and ea sickly whitish color; his
hands are very unsteady ; he has been
twice dismissed, and taken back at the re
quest of a minister who knew the broken
hearted wife in better days, and who at
tended his mother's funeral, for her son
was drunk at it. And if cholera or fever
came to his cheerless room, his wife would
likely be a widow and his children without
a father, and, worst of all, it would be no
great loss to them.
He did not mean to have these when
he said "bitter ale." But all these have
come; or fire will burn, and fully will in
jure, and vice will curse us, whether we
mean it for not. Ah ! it has been bitter
ale to him, indeed.
My friend, what will you have ? Look
beyond the hour and glass, think of the
future; however pleasant it looks to the
eye, or tastes to the lip, "at last it biteth
like a serpent, and !dinged' like an ad
der."—Dr. Hall.
American Boys
ere is good material for careful cul
ture in American boys. Their stuff has
teen - festal. The war . has - sho wit NA:it - There
is in our boys. It was not the officers that
made our army, as in the old countries.of
Europe; but the boys who grew to sudden
manhood amid the roar of artillery. They
could wear out shoes in the march, and
then march on without them in uncom
plaining heroism. They could work under
fire in the trenches, or charge on the bat
teries in the thickest of the fight. They
had genuine delicacy and tenderness, as
well as stern resolution, keeping fresh the
images of mothers and sisters and sweet
hearts, whose memories were their inspira
tion and their j'iy. They. could waste in
hospitals, poisoned with the malaria of
swamps, or die in silence on the lonely
battle-field. - The soil we tread is redolent
of their memories. The roses are redder
for the rich blood that moistens them, and
the lillies are whiter for the beauty of spir
it in which they suffered. Such boys live
still all over this regenerated land. They
can 'FA have the stern discipline of war to
fit then, .for the work that loanis up before
them; but they must have its equivalent
War-time has had its influence on the boys
of this generation which they will not be
likely to outgrew. It ought to produce
even a loftier type of character than that
they have witnessed, for the whole atmos
phere is drenched with the spirit of hero
ism. Bat the future holds out a noble
prospect still. There never was a wider
scope than now fur men of broad intelli
gence and earnest purpose ; but the stand
ard of culture is higher than ever before.
The boys of to-day must have a training
commensurate with the grandeur of the
work that is thrust upon them.
__,-•....-•--
A Printer's Toast.
From ratite?* An,crican and Literary
Record we quote the following ingenious
sentiment, given by M. H. L. Williams, at
an annual dinner of printers in America :
'-The Printer: An Epitome of many
trades and professions. Like the Lawyer,
he practices at the bar, and handles capital
as well as lower eases ; like the Moralist,
few have plainer rules to guide him ; like
the Bravo, he sticks daggers into many
forms; like the Astrologer, he reads the
stars; like the Jailor, he is great on lock
ing up; like the Cheat, he is versed in all
the arts of imposition; like the Hunter, he
knows all about the chaise; like the Per
jurer, he has a strong lye always ready;
though his Profession is not as old as
Adam's, yet like the Gardener, he must be
able to manage a Hoe, yet unlike the orig
inal gardener will never want clothes, with
a Taylor in his office; like the Soldier, he
can handle a shooting stick, arrange col-
umns, and set up cannon ; like the Dandy,
he is fond of a dash ; like the king, he has
plenty of pages; like the base ball player,
he catches on the fly; like the Milliner, he
keeps a stack of small caps, borders and
flowers ; like the Jeweller, he can set
pearl, ruby, agate and diamond ; like the
housekeeper, he has a supply of furniture,
beds and sheets; he never wants for music
with so many Harpers in the profession.
Finally, like the Clergyman, he sees his
most perfect forms after he has omreeted
all errors, carried off, and their beautiful
faces covered with clay.
Pleasant Experiments.
Would you like to be able, "just for the
fun of the thing," to take a coin out of a
plate of water without wetting your linger ?
Our friend, the Little Gleaner, shows us
how to do it : Fill a plate with water to
the depth of a quarter of an inch ; a coin
is then put iu the water. A piece of paper
is then lighted, put, while burning, on the
surface of the water and covered with a
tumbler. As the paper burns under the
tumbler, the water will rush up under the
tumbler and leave the coin in the plate,
when it may be lifted without wetting the
fingers.
How to take impression of any veined
leaf you wish to copy : Brush over a thick
sheet of letter paper with oil; hold it over
the smoke of the lamp until well blacken
ed ; take a perfect loaf having a pretty out
line; after warming it between the hands
lay the leaf upon the smoked side of the
paper, with the under side down ; press it
evenly upon the paper, that every part
may come in contact; go over it lightly
with a rolling pin, then remove the leaf
with care to a plain piece of. white note
paper ; cover it with another piece of white
paper and use the rolling pin again ; you
will then have a beautiful impression of
the delicate veins and outline of the leaf.
Ferns generally make fine leaf-pictures.
Shaking Hands
To present the left hand fur the pur
pose of a friendly greeting is a piece of
discourtesy—sometimes intentional on the
part of superiors in r...nk to their inferiors,
and an act that no true gentleman will
commit. There is no reas)n why it should
be considered more discourteous thin it
would be to kiss the left check instead of
the right; but doubtless the custom that
makes the right hand imperative in all
sincere salutations dates from these early
times when hand shaking first began, and
the hand that shook or was shaken in
friendship was of necessity weaponless.
The poor left hand that ono would think
ought to be of as much value and strength
as the right, just as the left leg or foot is
as strong as the right leg or foot, because
they are both used equally, has fallen into
disrepute, as well as into comparative
disuse, until it has become an accepted
phrase to say of any proceeding that is in
auspicious, artful, sly or secretly malicious,
that it is "sinister,"—that is, left-handed.
To shake hands without removing the
gloves is an act of discourtesy, which, if
unintentional and thoughtless, requires an
apolo,ry for the hurry or inadvertance
which led to it. This idea would also
seem to be an occult remnant of the old
notion that the glove might conceal a
weapon. Hence true courtesy and friend
ship required that the hand should be
naked as a proof of good faith. To refuse
pointedly to shake hands with one who
offers you the opportunity in a friendly
manner amounts to a declaration of hostil
ity. And after a quarrel or act of open
hostility, the acceptance of the hand offered
is alike the sign and ratification of peace.
—All the Year Round.
Inside the Earth.
The greatest depth of the earth hitherto
attained by man's explorations has not
reached more than one mile from the sur
face. When, as Professor Forbes states,
it is remembered "that the diameter of the
earth is 7,900 miles," the disproportion of
our studies between the surfitce and the
interior of our planet is evident. We have
traversed every sea from pole to pole; the
desert, the prairie, the great forests, and
the inland river founts have alike been ex
plored. All the sciences prove with what
aid"6i• we have stuctted tirtugs - orrtiewnirs -
surface and thence directed our attention
to distant planets to study them; yet of
our planet no attempt has yet ken made
beyond one mile down. What, however,
we have learned from this descent is as
tonishing. We have discovered that the
earth is not a solid substance . ; on the con
trary it has a fluid interior, and- only the
crust is solid; and relatively not so thick
in proportion as a hen's egg. It is found
that, for every hundred feet of descent
there is a rise of temperature of two de
grees Fahrenheit for every mile. At
twenty-five miles deep we should have a
temperature of 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit ;
which is sufficient to melt iron, and the
lava which we see ejected by volcanoes.
Now, without any verifying experiment,
the existence of volcanoes in different parts
of the world, the perpetual springs of
boiling water in Iceland, at Bath and
'Matlock, clearly proves the existence of
subterranean heat. Fortun.ttely, experi
ments of a different character from those
of descending into the earth' substantiate
the fact of interior fluidity.
Ingralitude of Children
There was once a father gave up every
thing to his children—his house, his fields
and goods—and expected that for this his
children would support him. But after he
bad been s nne time with his son, the lat
ter grew tired of him, and said to him :
"Father, I have had a son born to me
this night, and there where your arm-chair
stands, the cradle must come; will you
not, perhaps, go to my brother, who has a
larger room ?
After he had been some time with the
se , ond 5311, he also grew tired of him, and
said :
"Father, you like a warm roam, and
that hurts my head ; won't you go to my
brother, the baker ?"
The father went, and after he had been
some time with the third son, he found
him troublesome, and said to him : •
"Father, the people run iu and out here
all day as if it were a pigeon-house, and
you cannot have your noon-day sleep ;
would you not be better off at my sister
Kate's, near the town wall ?"
The old man remarked how the wind
blew and said to himself, "Yes, I will do
so ; I will go and try it with my daughter.
Women have softer hearts."
But after he had spent sonic time with
his daughter, she grew weary of him, and
said she was always so fearful when her
father went to church or anywhere else,
and was obliged to descend the steep stairs,
and at her sister Elizabeth's there were
no stairs to descend, as she lived on the
ground floor.
For the sake of peace the old man as
sented, and went to his other daughter.—
But after some time she too was tired of
him, and told him, by a third person, that
her house, near the water, was too damp
for a man who suffered with the gout, and
her sister, the grave-digger's wife at St.
John's, had much dryeflodgings.
The 'old man himself thought she was
right, and went outside the gate to his
youngest daughter Helen. But after he
had been three days with her, her little
son said to his grandfather :
"Mother said yesterday to cousin Eliza
beth, that there was no better chamber for
you than such a one as father digs."
These words broke the old man's heart,
so that he sank back in his chair and died
in a moment.
NEVER mention what you wish should
not be mentioned again, two to a secret
are enough, and one should not know any.
thing about it.
POVERTY is a hard task master.
NO. 30.
Vitt few circle.
[Written for the Joonnek]
God in Nature.
BY DR. WILLIAM J. MULLIIN.
Praise God the lofty pine exclaims,
And points unto the skies ;
Praise God I with outstretched limbs,
The mighty oak replies.
Praise God I is echod from the hills,
And from the valleys deep;
Praise God I in thunder tones is heard
From out the surging deep.
Praise God ! the passing zephyr says,
In whispers, soft and sweet;
Praise God! comes up from every spear,
Of grass beneath your feet.
Praise God ! the little brooklet sings,
Meandering on its way;
Praise God ! is heard from every plant,
And all the flowrets gay.
Praise God! resounds iu upper deep,
From every twinkling star;
Praise God! comes floating on the air,
From myriad worlds afar.
Praise God I the very stones cry out—
Him whom the angels praise;
Praise Godl ungrateful, fallen man,
Your voice the chorus raise.
Energy Added to Faith.
The right balance of the Christain
graces, that no one grace shall be dwarfed
or perverted by the unscriptural develop
ment of others, is greatly to be desired,
especially in our day, when piety takes on
such different modes of manifestation. En
tire symmetry of Christian character, in
which each grace holds its true place and
all exhibit a proportionate completeness, is
a rare attainment, and as difficult as rare.
As an aid to this end is the scriptural in
junction, "Add to your faith virtue."
Faith is the foundation of true Christian
character. It is as essential as the corner
stone to a material structure; and this be
cause•by it we arc brought into union with
Christ, and secure the indwelling of the
Holy Spirit. 'Without this living union,
"the fruits of the Spirit" can have no de
velopment, as they have no starting.point;
with it all the benefits of Christ's redemp
tive work may in time-become ours.
This faith, the corner stone of the Chris
tian edifice in the heart of every true be
liever, is far more than a mere intellectual
assent to the truth relating to Christ; it
joins with this assent of the understanding
a hearty embracing of Christ in all his of
fices as just what the sinful man needs;
and casts ifself upon him as its only and
all-sufficient Saviour. Such a faith subor
dinates the whole being—will, affections,
and active powers—to the will of Christ.
It makes the realities of the eternal world
present verities, and leads the Christian to
act as "seeing the Invisible." It sinks the
world, with its motives and claims and
pleasures, into their due insignificancy, and
gives spiritual and divine things their
proper prominence. On such a basis
Christian character may be builded ; out
of such a symmetrical cluster of graces may
spring and bloom and mature.
Yet faith without works is dead. Mere
and profound, is of little avail, and may be
perverted by the yet unsanctified nature
into a blind and dreamy mysticism. Hence
says the precept, "Add to your faith vir
tue," that manly energy which will go forth
in active work for Christ.
"Action, not thought, is being's highest end ;"
and he that will follow Christ must, like
him, go about and do good. God is ever
active, and iu world-making and world
governing "worketh hitherto." Christ in
.. . .
earnate was ceaseless in his activities; the
early disciples rested not in the diffusion
of his salvation; nor should any believer
now fail to work in his vineyard. The ad
dition of this manly energy to a living
faith is essential to the beginning of a
symmetrical Christian character.
The Peril and the Escape.
A heavily-laden ship was sailing through
the "Vineyard sound,' when a captain fa
miliar with the rocks and shoals, rowing
by, warned the crew of a rising gale, and
a dangerous ledge at hand. They disre
garded the repeated alarm, and were left
to their own course.
An hour later, and from the shore the
signals of distress were seen from that ves
sel's deck. The captain who had tried in
vain to induce the master and crew to seek
safe anchorage, with a few friends, entered
his boat, and went towards that bark, reel
ing in the storm on the rocks which held
it that.
Upon nearing it, the billows tossed the
boat high in air, and then left it in the
abyss of waters, making the rescue well
nigh hopeless. At length a bed was thrown
into the boat, and the cry went up, "Jump
for your life, it is your only chance!' TLe
imperilled group looked down upon the
danger, and into the storm, and hesitated.
The vessel began to part, and once more
the shout was heard, "It is your last chance
—come now, or you are lost !" The leap
was made, and while the ship went to pie
ces on the boiling flood, the boat bore the
rescued crew safely to the shore.
Thus the sinner disregards the warnings
of those who see his peril; and when God
in mercy brings him to feel his guilt and
danger, he still clings to his foundering
bark. If saved at all, he comes to the de
cision which costs the greatest struggle his
soul can know, to spring into the arms of
Christ without reserve. His heart ex
claims :
"I can but perish if I go,
I am resolved to try;
For if I stay away, I know
I must forever die."
It is a wonderful fact in salvation, that,
with the certainty of ruin behind and of
salvation before, when this last resolve is
Blade, the soul's extremity is a reality=it
is a determined and yet a desperate spring
for life. God intended that the surrender
to his mercy should be unconditional, and
the glory of the rescue for eternity his own.
A Word of Comfort.
Oh, disciple ! have you not been wont
to regard yourself as occupying, in the
Saviour's mind, such a place as a star in
the firmament, or a leaf in the forest, or,
at best, a sheep in the uncounted fold ?
If these be be your notions, go back to
Olivet. hear the Divine Intercessor ex
claiming,—"Neither pray I for these alone,
but fur then also which shall believe on
me," and hear Ilim promising, "And lo
I am with you always, even to the end of
the world."—Hamilton.
OUR trying to love an object is like our
trying to laugh when we nre not pleased ;
the more we try, the less shall we succeed.
The trying part of tne process implies it.
is a thing we do not prefer