TOL. 46.
3 Huntingdon Journal.
DURBORROW,
PUBLISHERS ♦Nil PROPRIETORS
J. A. NASII
on the Corner of Bath and Washington erects,
: HUNTINGDON JOURNAL IS published every
esday, by J. it. DURBORROW and J. A. NASH,
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Professional Cards,
DENGATE, Suryeyor, Warriors
mark; Pa. [np12,71.
CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law,
.No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied
;firs. Woods & Williamson. [apl2,'7l.
L R. R. WIESTLING,
respectfully offers his professional services
citizens of Huntingdon and vicinity.
e removed to No. 6181 Hill street, (Surrn's
xo.) [apr.s,7l-Iy.
t. J. C. FLEMIIING respectfully
)ffers his professional services to the citizens
tingdon and vicinity. Office second floor of
tlham's building, on corner of 4th and Hill
may 24.
L D. P. MILLER, Office on Hill
street, in the room formerly occupied by
hn M'Culloch, Huntingdon, Pa., would res
ly offer his professional services to the MU
' Huntingdon and vicinity. Dan. 4,71.
t. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
professional services to the community.
on Washington street, one door east of the
is Parsonage. Dan:l,7l.
D. ARNOLD, Graduate of the
, -
University of Pennsylvania, offers his pro
s] services to the people of Huntingdon and
ERENCE :-Dr. 11. P. Hook, of Loysrillo, Pa.,
hom ho formerly practiced; Dra. Stine and
of Philadelphia.
e on Washington street, West Huntingdon,
. [ap.19,11.
J. GREENE, Dentist. Office re
moved to Leister's new building. /lilt street
agdon. [jan.4,'7l.
L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T.
Ern an's new building, No. no, hill St.,
3gdon, Pa. [ap12,71.
GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner
s of Washington and Smith streets, Hun
n, Pa. [jan.l27l.
C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law.
Office, No.. street, lluntingdon,
[ap.19,71.
SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street,
loors west of Smith. Litin.47l.
R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth
ecary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Mun
n, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded.
..iquors for Medicinal purposes. [n0v.23,'70.
HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law,
Huntingdon, Pa. Office, second floor of
es new building, Hill street. D0n.4,71.
R. DURBORROW, Attoiney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the
I Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular
ion given to the settlement of estates of dece
min he JOURNAL Building. [feb.l,7l.
A. POLLOCK, Surveyor and Real
Estate Agent, Huntingdon, Pa.. will attend
Toying in all its branches. Will also buy,
r rent Farms, Houses, and Real Estate of cr
ud, in any part of the United States. Send
!koala, Dan.47l.
W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law
and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa.,
re' claims against the Government for back
.ounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend
with great care and promptness. „
se on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l.
ALLEN LOVELL , Attorney-at
• Law,lfuntingdon, Pa. Special attention
to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settle
of Estates ' &c.; and all other Legal Easiness
!uted with fidelity nod dispatch.
1.- Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton
, Esq. [jan.4,'il.
ILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at
- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly
legal business. Office in Cunningbam's new
ng., .
Dan.4/71.
M. & M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys
at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to
ads of legal business entrusted to their care.
ce on the south side of Hill street, fourth door
§g.2
A. ORBISON, Attorney -at-Law,
• Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa.
[may3l,'7l.
SCOTT. S. T. BROWN. J. Ir. BAILEY
!OTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At
torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions,
11 claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against
overnment will be promptly prosecuted.
ce on Hill street. Dan.4.'7l.
W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun.
tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart
[jan.4,'7l.
nuum A. FLEMING, Attorney
at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
to collections, and all other Isgal business
ded to with care and promptness. Office, No.
Hill street. [ftpl9,'7l.
Miscellaneous.
WHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon,
Pa. JOHN 8. MILLER, Proprietor.
unary 4, 1871.
.LISON MILLER.
11. BLTCRANAN.
[ILLER & BUCHANAN,
DENTISTS,
22S lull Street,
UNTrNODON, PA,
ril 5. '7l-Iy.
TAR TILT RAILROAD DEPOT,
;OR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT
UNITED STATES HOTEL,
HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA
LAIN & CO., PROPRIETORS
,Mehls-tf
OBT. KING, Merchant Taylor, 412
Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib
share of patronage respectfully solicited.
nil 12, ltil.
-- si
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,
. ::,4 •
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? untingdon
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Journal 0
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'A,
Vlle JA; tzar.' Fi_jo Ira.
In Summer Days
BY HENRY DE WOLF, JR.
In summer, when the woods were green,
While yet the sunbeam's golden sheen
Glanced brightly o'er each smiling scene,
I walked amid the fields with thee.
Around us blackbirds carolled sweet,
The wild flowers Sprang beneath our feet,
And swift and high our pulses beat,
As on we wandered, silently.
Hushed was the brooklet's restless flow,
And deeper flashed the crimson glow,
As I, with pensive steps and slow
Passed on, unheeding aught save thee.
Unnoticed then the brooklet rang,
The sunlight gleamed, the wild flowers sprang,
The forest warblers sweetly sang,
We knew naught save our company.
801 ioo
Though naught of grace was wanting there,
Thy form to we alone was fair,
Thy floating locks of woven hair
Had proved a subtle net for me,
The nectar of thy rosy lips,
Sweeter Than that the wild bee sips,
The bloom of beauty uneelips'd
Had gained an unfought victory.
As in the cloudless summer skies
The lambent lightning fires arise,
One sweet glance from those ardent eyes
Thrilled deep my heart with eestacy.
The throbbing pulses of her breast
Still closer to my own I pressed;
Ilow sweet within those arms to rest,
And dream unbroken dreams of thee.
Our hearts were touched with joys divine
That thrilled like draughts of fiery wine,
And I had called thee ever mine,
As on the hours rolled joyously.
With many a sigh for moments gone,
We parted, and were left alone,
Now each to other arms has flown,
And left the old-time memory.
Ah, love I how soon your vows are broke,
Though oft in deepest earnes t-poke.
Beyond the present's bliss you look,
And sigh when other charms you see.
The beauty of the fairest flower
Wearies our eye in one brihgt hour,
What blame if we desert its bower,
And go where fresher bloom may he?
But still, though passion quickly tires
Beneath the blaze of new desires,
The fitful light of former fires
Wakes many a smouldering memory
Farewell! my fickle, fairest one,
Thy power is broke—thy work is done ;
But thy warm love's once cloudless sun
Still faintly glimmers o'er me.
ght ffitorm-Zeller.
DELIVERED FROM EVIL.
TEE twilight of mid July Was full Hof
tender, opal brightness; the scent of new
mown hay, coming down from afar off
breezy slopes, floated in the air, and just
beyond the elms in the hollow• the full
moon rising up—a great globe of pearl, and
from her low soot beneath the overhanging
honey-suckles, -Bertha Wyman saw and
felt all this summer beauty with the faint,
blissful languor of a tropic dream.
"Bertha'!"
Paul Fordham crossed the broad ribbon
of moonlight that fluttered over the piazza
and came to sit do sn at his fiance's feet.
"Yon are like a picture, to-night, Ber.
the ; do you know it ?"
'Ain I N
Miss Wyman was accustomed to adula
tion and took it very coolly, with only a
royal smile flung down to her admirer.
She was like a picture—fair and gracious
with blue eyes, and great coils of golden
hair bound around her head, while even in
the uncertain twilight you could see that
the color on her cheeks was softer and
more tenderly tinted than the blossoms of
the great oleander at her side.
"Hush—who is that ?" she said, with a
little start, as a light footstep sounded on
the matted hall beyond.
"Only your aunt's companion, Mrs. Ray
mond. By the way, Bertha, what a very
interesting little thing she is—such a child
widow, with those black eyes, and the hea
vy lashes that seem actually to weigh down
her eyelids. She makes me think of one
of those exquisite little South American
birds, all grace and sparkle."
, -
"I never could account for the taste of
young men," said Bertha half contemptu
ously:
but she is a beauty, by Jove ! I
can tell you what., my fair Saxon Empress,
if I had not lost my heart irrevocably to
you, long before I ever saw Mrs. Raymond
there's no telling what might have happen,
ed."
He spoke jestingly, but Bertha drew
away the hand he had taken, rather coolly.
"It is not yet too late, Paul, if you real
ly admire Zaidee Raymond sq enthusiasti
cally." .
"Bertha :"
Miss Wyman laughed a strange, unnatu
ral sort of a laugh. I , p to this moment
her lips had never tasted the bitter cup of
jealousy, now it seemed as if the draught
was maddening. How dared Paul Ford
ham, her betrothed lover, to speak in tones
of commendation to_434;w9man save herself._
Bertha was one Vt ; those unfortunate
creatures who have what is termed "a high
temper," and all her life it had been un
bridled. She bad never learned the lesson
of self-control, and it was too late to begin
now.
Miss Wyman went up to her own apart
ment earlier than usual that evening, not
because she was particularly weary, but
because she wanted to punish Paul Ford
ham, who was fond of moonlight and sen
timent and delicious July evenings, for his
unwarrantable notice of her aunt's dark
eyed companion.
As she sat at her window, brushing out
the wavy, feathery gold of her magnificent
hair, the sound of voices on the piazza be
low arrested her attention She listened
a moment, holding the golden masses away
from her head, with her scarlet lips half
apart. It was Paul Fordham and Zaidee
Raymond.
"I thought so," she murmured under
her breath. "It would be no bad specula
tion for the poverty-stricken widow to wile
Paul Fordham and his wealth to her nets.
I knew she was artful, despite her innocent
childish ways, but if she dares to come in
collision with me she shall be crushed—
crushed, as I would strike a noisome insect
to the ground."
She sat there, silent and motionless, for
well nigh half an hour, then there came a
soft tap at her chamber door.
`•Come in," said Bertha,
And Mrs. Raymond entered.
'•I beg your pardon for disturbing you,
Miss Wyman, but were you aware that you
bad left your bracelet on thepiazza ? Here
it is."
"It took you and Mr. Fordham some
time to discover the loss of a bracelet,"
said Bertha tauntingly. "I am really sorry
to have given you the trouble of so length
ened a search."
Zaidee Raymond's cheeks flushed pain
fully.
'•lf you would allow me to confide in
you, Miss Wyman," she faltered, drawing
a step or two nearer the Saxon beauty.—
"Mr. Fordham has told me—"
"I do not wish to become the repository
of your confidence," said Bertha, with
chilling abruptness, "nor do I care what
Mr. Fordhaan chooses to tell you. Good
night." _ .
And she motioned Mrs. Raymond im
perativeiy from her presence.
"I sho - uld have struck her in another
second," she murmured to herself, tearing
the tiny lace frill away from her throbbing
throat, as if its slight pressure impeded free
respiration. "I have seen the nurses shrink
away from me,• as a child, when my temper
rose. There was murder in my eyes, they
said. I think murder came into my heart
when 1 stood there facing that treacherous,
black-eyed woman. Let her beware how
she ventures to come between me and
mine."
Unconscious Paul Fordham ! If he
could only have known, as he paced up and
down the dewy lawn, smoking his cigar,
the thoughts that were passing through the
mind of his betrothed.
"Bertha," he said, the next afternoon,
as they stood together by the great spicy
sweet-brier bush, "do you know I had quite
a chat with Mrs. Raymond last night r"
"I aim aware of it," answered Bertha,
indifferently, stooping to gather a scented
spray.
"And by Jove, Bertha, the little crea
ture has had the most romantic life to—"
"I dare say," said Bertha, turning ab
ruptly away. "The breeze is too strong
out here, I think I will go to the library."
Paul stared at his companion in utter
bewilderment.
"I suppose that means she doesn't want
to talk any more about Zaidee Raymond.
Well, of all incomprehensible creatures, a
woman is the most incomprehensible I They
are leagues and leagues beyond my pen
etration—the whole race of them. I sup
posed she would be interested; and here
she snaps my head off before I get out a
dozen words."
And Paul followed Bertha to the library,
confused, and not altogether pleased at the
arbitrary decisiveness of the beautiful
blonde.
It was about a week afterward that Ber
tha Wyman was coming home from a long
walk to a distant farm house ' where an old
schoolmate of hers resided. She had re
fused Paul Fordham's escort, probably be
cause she had seen him walking up and
down the long hall with Mrs. Raymond at
his side that very morning, and now she
felt a little wearied, somewhat lonely, and
very cross. The sun had been down about I
half an hour, but the west was still illumi
nated with a belt of orange brightness, and
the winding river, tangled along the shore
with starry water-lilies, reflected the warm
glow of the sky like a second firmament.
As Bertha descended into a little hollow,
fragrant with wild roses—tor she had
avoided the thoroughfare, unfrecinan •
though it was, and chosen instead a shaded
by-path—she became conscious that two
other persons were strolling along the road
itself, from whom she was divided by a
tangled mass of wild grape-vines festooned
from the slender branches of a few silver
birches—two other persons—Paul Ford
ham and Zaidee Raymond.
The color died away from Bertha's some
what flushed cheeks, as she paused to list
en, for they, too, had paused where two
.roads separated.
"We must not walk any further togeth
er," said Paul Fordham's voice. "Nobo
dy iff to suspect anything yet, you know.
We'll surprise them.'
And then came Zaidee's soft, hesitating
laugh.
"It seems I:ke a dream, Mr. Fordham."
"But you will find it, I hope, a happy
reality," he said looking tenderly down
upon her bowed head. "You do not regret
trusting in me ?"
"Oh !" she said, "I .never dreamed that
earth could have so much happiness in
store for me yet ! And I owe it all to you."
And then - Bertha could hear his -foot
steps dying away in the distance; she could
see Mrs. Raymond standing motionless for
a moment, with her tiny hands clasped,
and then gliding on, her scarlet scarf glim
mering through the dusk like the wing'of
a Ceylon bird.
"l' also ! faithless !" murmured Bertha
under her breath, with her white teeth set
closely together. "Ah she ! how dare she ?"
The storm of hot, unreasoning fury that
raged in her breast seemed to shake her
light frame as a leaf is shaken by the
equinoctial gale, and her eyes literally bla
zed with blue, baleful fire. At that instant
there was murder in Bertha Wyman's
heart.
She hurried down the twilight glade,
the thorns tearing her dress, the briers
wounding her delicate flesh, but she felt
them no more than if they had been rose
petals blown toward her by the evening
breeze. Some strong, savage purpose was
maturing in her mind—some over-master
ing passion held her 4whole being in its
grasp.
She knew that to strike into the tight
road Zaidee must, ere long, take the se
cluded path she herself was treading. Her
sole aim was to reach the tiny foot-bridge,
which crossed the narrow river, first.
And she succeeded. It was quite dark
—the fragrant, starry-darkness of a mid
summer night—when she hurried down the
steep, shelving bank.
"The planks are old and ruinous," she
murmured. "They shook and rattled under
my feet as I passed over to-day. Zaidee
Raymond shall come between me and my
plighted lover no more !"
As she crossed, she deliberately stopped,
tearing up the planks behind her, and
throwing them into the river with a dull
splashing sound. They were not large,
but had they been twice, nay, three times
their size, Bertha Wyman would have torn
them away from the mouldering beams, so
supernatural seemed her strength at that
instant.
"There," she said, half aloud, pausing
to look down into the peaceful stream,
where the planks floated amid the faint
reflection of innumberable stars. "Long
ago, when I was a child, a man was drowned
here. The water is deep and the spot is
lonely."
The next moment she was gone, hurry
ing away, as if some unseen presence were
following close upon her footsteps.
"You are late to-night, Bertha ?"
Paul was looking out for her from the
piazza steps, and came pleasantly to meet
her.
"I know it," she said, putting the hair
away from her forehead, where the cold
dew stood in beads. "It's a long way
from Redcotc Farms and I—l did not
walk fast."
HUNTINGDON, P.
"Come and sit by me, Bertha," said
Paul ; "I've a long story to tell you."
"What is it ?" she asked mechanically.
"It's about little Zaidee Raymond.—
She's not a widow after all."
"Not a widow ?"
"No; and how do you suppose I found
out ! Clifford, my cousin Clifford, wrote
to me from India, and he is her husband.
You see there was some absurd quarrel
between them before the honeymoon was
over. He was a jealous fool, and she was
passionate and she ran away and left him.
He somehow heard she was in this part
of the country, and wrote to me. Of course,
the minute I got a chance to speak to her,
I knew it was Zaidee._ And she is the
happiest little creature in the world to
think he really loves her; and next week
she's going out to him. I've managed it
all. Don't you think I'n' a pretty good
diplomatist ?"
His face was fairly radiant with honest
pleasure as he looked down into Bertha's
time. He did not see her gaze; her eyes,
wide open and dilated, were fixed on va
cancy, and her face was deadly white.
111. - e'reiful God of Reavenl What had
she done, in the wild, unreasoning fit of
madness of her jealousy ! *Was she a mur
deress ? Was the blot of Cain upon her
brow ?
Alas ! for the wild remorse that gnawed
at her heart all the slow creeping hours of
that dreadful night ! Had the wealth of a
hundred worlds been hers she would have
cheerfully given it all to undo the work of
those few maniac minutes on the lonely
bridge! Nay, she would have died her
self; in all the bloom of her youth and
beauty, to wipe out that brief half hour of
her life !
When she arose next morning she looked
as if an illness of months had passed over
her head.
"How ill you look, dear !" said her
aunt, "I'm afraid that walk was too much
for you yesterday. And it's so strange
that Zaidee did not come home last night."
"Strange !" As Bertha closed her heavy
eyes she almost seemed to ace the dead
face turned upward among the water lilies,
with its wealth of jetty hair tangled amid
their wreathed stems. Oh, God as long as
she lived that white face would haunt her
waking or sleeping hours.
Would it be long before they found the
corpse ? Would they bring it up the flow
ery lawn, with the dripping hair, or would
it float there for days, perhaps in that
lonely spot ? And—
" Why Zaidee ! where have you been all
this time ?"
Bertha started up, with a wild hysteric
scream. It WWI her aunt's voice, and
Zaidee Raymond stood in the midst of
them, with blooming cheeks, and soft dim
pling smiles:
"At Farmer Geary's, to be sure. It was
so dark when I passed there last night
that - the kind souls insisted on my staying
with them until morning. And it was a
very lucky thing I did, for when we got
to the bridge this morning, we found that
the thunder shower in the night had raised
the stream and washed off half those ruin
ous old planks."
Rort
Zadice taking her to her bosom with a
strong, tender pressure that the young
creature scarcely understood.
"Oh, Zaidee, we were so frightened !
Thank heaven you are safe once more !
Dearest Zadiee, Paul has told me all and
I am so glad."
If ever a woman spoke from the bottom
of her heart, Bertha Wyman did at that
moment.
The next week Mrs. Raymond went out
to join her husband in India ; and a
month afterward Paul Fordham was mar
ried to Bertha, whose unwonted gentleness
and sweetness of demeanor rather aston
ished the household.
"Something has changed her very
much," said the good old aunt. But no
one ever knew what the "something" was
that had wrought such an alteration in
Bertha's character.
plOrtilllllollo.
True Story of Jeff. Davis,
The Sleeping-Car Incident Eye-Witness
ed—Names, Dates and Circumstances.
The .Memphis correspondent of the In
dianapolis Journal writes : Nothing is
talked about here except the late sleeping
car performance of Mr. Jefferson Davis.
Of course many false reports are afloat. I
have taken the trouble to get the facts
from eye-witnesses, and give them just as
they actually occurred.
For over a year past a Mrs. B----- has
been boarding at the Overton House in
this city. She is very handsome, of splendid
form, is accomplished, and a very fascinat-•
ing conversationalist. Her husband is a
traveling agent for the Southern Express
Company, and is the most of his time ab
sent. His wife is very ambitious, but he
is poor. Mr. Jefferson Davis and his wife
have been boarding at the Peabody House,
three squares from the Overton. For
some months past it has been observed
that a remarkably intimate friendship has
existed between Mr. D. and Mrs. B. He
paid ber constant visits at her hotel, al
ways going direct to her room, instead of
seeing her in the parlors. Mrs. B
has also frequently visited Mr. and Mrs.
Davis at their hotel. Through the ex-
President's influence she has been intro
duced into the best class of society, and
has recently become a member of the choir
of the St. Lazarus Episcopal Church, of
which Mr. Davis is a prominent and de
vout (!) member. Now Mr. Davis is sixty
four years old ; the fascinating Mrs. 8.-
is twenty-eight. A most beautiful thing
in this intense friendship between youth
and age. What could be more natural,
or more proper, or more beautiful than
the spectacle of this young and attractive
lady, in the absence of her husband, lean
ing for protection and counsel upon this
wise and great man ? But people will
talk, and rumor has been busy. and fre
quently whispered questions have been
asked about some little peculiarities crop
ping out along the even tenor of this
touching friendship. In May last, Mrs.
Jefferson Davis went to Baltimore on a
visit, where she spent the summer and
still remains. About the first of July the
ex-President made a visit to Col. Jett, who
resides in the country about Feven miles
from Memphis. On this visit Mr. Davis
was accompanied by Mrs. B-, and the
two remained there over a week. Col. Jett
is a very wealthy gentleman, of the high
est standing, and entirely above reproach.
At the end of this pleasant visit, Mr.
Davis and Mrs. B- returned to the
city, and the next day together took the
Memphis and Charleston Railroad and
started cast. Mrs. B- was going to
Chattanooga on a visit. The ex-Presi..
dent was going to Baltimore to bring his
AUGUST IG, 187 r.
wife home. So by this fortunate little ac
cident Mr. D. was to have the pleasure of
Mrs. B's company for three hundred
miles of his journey. And what could
thee be wrong in this beautiful young
wife traveling under the protection of the
sage of Richmond, while her husband was
necessarily away on business ? All day
the train thundered along and the dust
flew; but there were two passengers who
took no note of time. Mr. D. and Mrs.
B. were so wrapped up in each other's so
ciety that they were, by some of the un
sophisticated passengers, mistaken for
father and daughter, and by others still
for husband and wife. At one time his
venerable arm was around her waist, and
on several occasions Ler head rested on
his shoulder. The shades of evening over
took the weary travelers just beyond Hunts
ville, Alabama. The ex-President is in
the habit of traveling over that road fre
quently, and has never been known to
take an upper berth in the sleeping-ear.
He is always very particular on this point,
and has positively refused to sleep any
where except in a lower berth. On this
eventful evening the (10th of, July) he
took a whole section, including both the
upper and lower berth. The section is
No 5, in car No. 30. Mr. Haines is the
train conductor. Mr. George Trice is
conductor of this sleeping car, and Charley
Pullen, an intelligent young colored .gen
tleman, is porter. I have seen these gen
tlemen personally, and am giving the facts
as they occured on the train, just as they
have reported them in writing to, their
superior officers, and just as they stated
them to me. fter securing his section,
Mr. Davis informed Mrs. 8., and she un
dressed and retired into the lower berth.
Mr. Davis went to the porter and request
ed to have central lamp extinguished,
stating that it shone down into Mrs. B.'s
bed, and was disagreeable to her, as she
was a little nervous. The conductor, Mr.
Trice, was consulted, and the lamp was
not extinguished, as it was entirely con
trary to their custom. The conductor went
into the next car forward. The porter
was at the rear of the car. Mr. Davis
undressed and got in the same berth with
Mrs. B—. In order to be certain the
porter quietly looked between the curtains,
and there they were. He immediately re
ported to Mr. Trice, who then came and
quietly looked between the curtains—and
there they were. Trice and the porter
then withdrew to the end of the car, and
the porter was dispatched for Mr. Haines,
the train conductor. Haines came and
quietly looked through the curtains—and
there they were. After consultation in
the parlor at the front end of the car, the
two conductors decided that such conduct
should not be tolerated, and the porter was
sent to tell Mr. Davis that he must take
another berth. Charley again quietly look
ed through the curtains—and there they
were. He returned and said : " 'Pon my
word, I ain't got the heart to scare him
out." After a few moments more of con
sultation, the porter was sent back with
the same orders. He quietly looked through
the curtains. Mrs. 8., was wrapped in
the sheets, apparently sound asleep. The
.41-410. 1 1t
upright in the upper B'erth, jusrinllce
act of taking a horn of whiskey from a
small pocket flask.
_ _ _
These throe.men will make oath to these
facts whenever and wherever it is necessa
ry. Strong efforts have been made to get
them away. Threats have been uttered
against their lives, and large sums of
money have been offered them to leave
here, or to make false statements of the
matter, but they are all honorable men,
and will stand by their word.
Mr. Davis telegraphed, when he saw
the report, that he would return without
delay and prove the story false, but he has
not returned, and it is now reported, on
good authority, that he will remain away
until fall. The indignation against him
here is intense. Everybody believes the
story„limplicitly.
Death of the Double Baby,
done Head Outlives the Other.
We mentioned in our columns, the pres
ence in Boston of a most remarkable child,
the offspring of Joseph and Ann E. Finley.
It presented the remarkable as well as un
precedented phenomenon of two heads,
four arms, and two legs, and all upon a
single body: The girl—for such was its
sex—died last evening at No. 6 Bowdoin
street. The first half or head breathed
its last at 5, and the second shortly after
8 o'clock. The many thousands in the
Western or Middle States who have seen
this marvelous eccentricity of nature will
learn its early death with regret. The
child—or children as it would almost seem
proper to allude to the phenomenon—had
enjoyed excellent health from her birth,
nine months ago, until within two weeks,
at which time one exhibited signs of illness.
This however, was but temporary. It re
covered and was bright and playful. Since
reaching Boston, a few days since, the oth
er—or the half—was taken sick and died
yesterday afternoon, as already stated. The
two portions of the body were so intimate
ly connected that the death of one render
ed that of the other inevitable. The
spectacle was equally novel, strange and
unparalleled. Upon one end of the body
reposed the head of the dead infant; upon
the other that of the live one with its eyes
still bright and curious, and its lungs in
full breathing order. All that medical
aid could accomplish was done, but it was
found unavailing. The child died in the
presence of its parents. The corpse pre
cents the appearance of two infants asleep.
Apparently they escaped the ordinary suf
fering incident to death, for the counten
ances had the expression of repose. The
disposition of the body is not determined
upon. Several of our physicians were de
sirous, last evening, of having it opened
for examination. It is doubtfull if the
parents consent. They reside in Monroe
county, Ohio, and live upon a farm.' They
have other children, but none have exhibi
ted any unusual developments. Nor can
this extraordinary departure from the laws
of nature be accounted for. In Philadel
phia, were all the medical Solons under
tiok to solve the problem, nothing what
ever was brought to light. The child was
looked upon with amazement and interest,
but all attempts to account' or its existence
were futile. It was regarded as more of a
curiosity than Siamese twins, and most
certainly the spectacle was more plausible
to the eye. The child was shortly to have
been exhibited to the public, and would
doubtless here, as elsewere, have attracted
throngs of visitors. The parents were es
pecialy devoted to the little marvel, and
their sorrow is grievous.—Boston Post.
Mrs. Vallandigham is spending the sum
er in the mountains near Berlin, Somer.
se. county.
Fashion Gossip.
Some extravagant misses wear real gold
and silver buckles on their slippers instead
of imitation.
A new style of overdress is in three sep
arate pieces, joined together by large fans
formed of silk and lace.
The lightest colored bronze and mala
chite are used for parlor ornaments and are
extremely beautiful:
Little tea parties and 10 o'clock suppers
are the most fashionable entertainments at
Newport this season.
A pretty style of round hat for ladies is
a sort of cap composed entirely of peacock's
feathers and loops of black velvet.
Caps are now seldom worn by our dow
agers, the hair instead being arranged in
the most youthful and elaborate manner.
Very pretty morning wrappers are made
of white cashmere, faced with a quilled
trimming of pink, blue or pale green silk.
Flowers in great quantities are sent by
young men to their friends in the country.
This seems to be reversing the order of
things.
Some very elegant fans of point lace
have the monogram inserted in small em
eralds and diamonds on one of the side
sticks.
At some of the summer boarding-houses
the butter set before the people is like a
well-defended fort—that is, rather too
strong to be easily taken.
The Nillson scarf, consisting of a square
of light-colored silk, edged with fringe and
tied at the throat in a loose knot, are very
stylish and becoming.
Many ladies who wear short sleeves to
their drasses wear a bracelet at the wrist
attached by a long chain to another brace
let which is fastened just above the elbow.
Linen dresses of all colors, trimmed with
fringe to match, and made in the shape of
a polonaise, are worn by ladies over silk
dresses for travelling and riding on dusty
roads.
Some of the young girls at the sea-shore
have adopted the fashion of wearing the
hair creped and hanging loose down their
backs, which is a great saving of trouble
and also of time.
Gongs are no longer used at hotels,
there being stated hours for the meals and
the guests are expected to be on hand when
the time arrives for feeding "without any
further notice."
A petition is about to be started by the
express companies to reduce the size of
trunks, some of them being so large as to
be almost impossible to be got into the
doors of the baggage cars.
Female Delicacy.
Above every other feature which adorns
the female character, delicacy stands fore
most within the province of good taste.
Not that delicacy which is perpetually in
quest of something to be ashamed of, which
maxeo U1t11.46.4.,..muau, anti ERIBT)111.141.-14111
false construction its own ingenuity has
put upon an innocent remark; this spuri
ous kind of delicacy is as far removed from
good taste as from good feeling and good
sense; but the high-minded delicacy which
maintains its pure and undeviating walk
alike amongst women as in the society of
men, which shrinks from no necessary
duty, and can speak, when required, with
seriousness and kindness, of things at
which it would be ashamed to smile or to
blush--that delicacy which knows how to
confer a benefit without woundinr , the
feeling of another, and which understands
also how and when to receive one—that
delicacy which can give alms without dis
play, and advice without assumption; and
which pains not the most humble or sus
ceptible being in creation.
Tit-Bits, Taken on the Fly.
The Rev. Dr. M. Jacobs, who died at
Gettysburg on Saturday, was forty years,
a Professor in Pennsylvania College.
Chief Justice Chase has greatly improv
ed physically since his sojourn at the Mag
netic Springs, Michigan.
Here is an act of the Legislature which
is worth reading, as it may prove useful to
those not aware of the repeal of the law in
regard to tax on occupations and salaries.
President Grant says he hopes to effect
a further reduction of forty millions of dol
lars of internal revenue taxes in the next
fiscal year. This will be good news to tax
payers.
A new fly destroyer has been discovered.
At Stafford, Conn., the other day, a dense
swarm of bees flew into the front door of
Mrs. Hodges, and after visiting every room
in the house, made a specially prolonged
call in the kitchen. When the buzzing
invaders withdrew, not a fly was to be seen
in the house, and for days afterward.
The Chicago Tribune asks and receives
$22,000 for a column of advertisements
one year. The business men of Chicago
are keen to pay it. There is one house in
Cincinnati that pays $4,000 a year for ad
vertising. There are several in Cleve
land, even, who pay as high as $lO,OOO.
Somehow these men don't break up; a
liberal advertiser never does.
A Mr. Duncan, of Pittsbugh, recently
bequeathed Bishop Simpson, of the M. E.
Church, sixty thousand dollars. This is a
gift worthily bestowed. Bishop Simpson
is one of the ablest and most devoted di
vines of this country and of the world,
and will make good use of this large be
quest. His health is now in a critical
condition, and it is feared his labors are
almost at an end.
The Public Debt statement for July is
an encouraging one. The decrease in the
debt for the month is $8,701,976 92, which
is a fair average diminution. Since Mardi
1, 1869, the debt has been reduced $242,
134,402, a splendid amount for a nation
yet recovering from the disastrous effects
of a civil war to pay off. But how much
longer must we reiterate the complaint
that so large an amount of gold is hoard
ed in the Treasury ? This month the
store reported is $83,742,709 55.
A private letter, says the Pittsburg
Dispatch, was received by Rev. Mr. Big
nall from Clifton Springs, announcing
that the health of Bishop Simpson, who is
now stopping at the water cure establish
ment of that place, remains quite feeble.
He scarcely leaves his room, except for
meals. He rests on the sofa, and is very
weak and his voice so feeble that he scarce
ly speaks above a whisper. Visitors are
not permitted to see him except at his own
request. He is quite broken down from
hard work, and it will be a long time be
fore he recovers.
Übe geittrO' pudo.
Mule-Bianca
The mule stood on the steamboat deck,
The land he would not tread ;
They pulled the halter round his neck,
And cracked him o'er the head.
But obstinate and braced he stood,
As born the scene to rule,
A creature of the hold-back brood,
A stubborn, steadfast mule.
They cursed and swore—he would not go
Until he felt inclined;
And though they thundered blow on blow,
He altered not his mind.
The deck-hand to the shore complained,
"The varmint's bound to stay 1"
And still upon the critter's hide
The sounding lash made play.
His master from the shore replied,
"The boat's about to sail ;
As other means in vain you've tried,
Suppose you twist his tail—
It's likely that will make him land."
The deck-hand, brave, though pale,
The nearer drew, with outstretched hand,
To make the twist avail.
There came a kick of thunder sound!
The deck-hand—where was he?
Ask of the waves that far around
Behold him in the sea
A moment not a voice was heard;
But winked the mule his eye,
As though to ask to him occurred—
" Now how was that for high ?"
"Just cut his throat," the captain roared,
"And end the cussed brute I"
But the noblest soul that perished there
Was he who tried to do't.
Pat and the Post-Office Clerk.
"Faith, an' have yez iver a letther fur
me, yer honor ?"
‘'What name ?" asked the urbane offi
cial.
"Why, me own name av coorse. Whose
else 7"
"What is your name ?" continued the
official, still urbane.
"Faith, an' it was my father's afore me,
and would be yit, but he's gone dead."
"Confound you, what do you call your
self ?" losing his temper.
"Bedad," says Pat, firmly, "I call my
self a gentleman, an' it's a pity there ain't
a couple av us."
"Stand back !" commanded the official
with dignity.
"The divil aback I'll sthand ontil I git
my letther."
"How can I give it to you, if you won't
tell me who you are, you stupid, thick
headed bogtrotter."
"An' is that what you're paid for—
abusin' honest people that ask for their
rights ?" Gi' me the letter or be the whisk
ers o' Kate Kearney's cat, I'll cast my vote
agin ye whin I git the papers."
"You blundering blockhead," broke in
the really angry clerk, "can you tell me
how your letter is addressed ?"
_
‘lihressed ! how should it to dressed,
barrio' a- sheet av paper, like any other.
Come, hand up."
me who you are ?"
"Fait an' I'm an Irishman. Me father
was cousin to one-eyed Harvey Magra, the
process sarver, an' me mother belonged to
the Mooneys, of Kilmathouad. You're an
ignorant old dacigle, an' if you'll only
creep out of your hole, I'll welt your hide
like a new shoe. An' av ye git any satis
faction out ov me, me name's not Barner
O'Flynn."
"Oh, that's your name, is it T" said the
satisfied official, seizing and shuffling a pile
of letters. "There's your letter, sir."
AN Irishman being invited by a deacon
to accompany him to church, complied
with great alacrity. His pious, good friend
seated Pat in his pew, and with pious
visage and austere aspect, awaited the
commencement of the services. Pat look
ed around him and observing none of the
paraphernalia belonging to his peculiar
mode of worship, whispered inquiringly of
the deacon :
"Is this a heretic church ?"
_ "Be still, my good man, don't disturb
the meeting," replied the minister.
"Faith, an' I'll do that same."
Presently the elder commenced his pray
er, which SO excited the deacon that he
shouted in the fervor of his heart, "Glory
to God!"
"Howld yer whist," cried the indig•
nant Celt.
The worthy preacher stopped and look
ed around for the cause of his disturbance.
Seeing no one he began again.
Suddenly the deacon cried out 'Amen 1"
"Will ye be quiet, ye thafe of the world,
and nut be disturbing the people ?" giving
him a dig in the ribs.
The minister again stopped and request
ed some one to remove the profane in
truder.
"Bedad, an' I will," suiting the action
to the word, he collared the offending but
innocent worshipper, and pitched him out
of the vestibule. Returning with consid
erable pride, he addressed the minister :
"There, plaze your riverence, I've put
the blackguard out, bad ems to him."
"AIN'T GoT'Esi."—Three of the dirt
iest, most ragged little ragamuffins in this
city entered one of our drug stores. March
ing up to the counter one said :
"I want a cents' worth of rock candy !"
"Get out you ragamuffin !—we don't sell
a cents' worth of rock candy."
Slowly and sadly they filed out of the
store. On the sidewalk a consultation
took place. They re-entered the store.
"Mister do you sell three cents' worth
of rock candy 'I"
"Yes 1"
"Well we ain't got 'em I"—and the pro
cession moved out again.
A VERY smart boy on his return from
college, attempted to prove two were equal
to three. Pointing to a roasted chicken
on the table, he said : "Is not that one 7"
and then pointing to another: "Is not that
two 7 and do not one and two make three 7"
Whereupon his father said: "Wife, you
take one and I'll take the other, and our
smart boy can have the third for his din
ner."
A LADY was one day walking through
the streets, when the tray of a butcher's
boy came in contact with her and soiled
her dress.
"The duce take the tray," exclaimed
the lady, angrily.
"Ah, but the duce can't take the tray,"
replied the boy with the greatest coolness.
WHAT sort of gaiters would youexplore
the Nile with ? Ali-gaiters.
WHAT ailment may we look for on an
oak ? A-corn
NO. 32.
oats that.:.:. •
Saturday Night.
How many a kiss has been given—how
many a cures—how many a look of Hate—
how many a kind word—how many a
promise has been broken—how many a
soul lost—how many a loved one lowered
into the narrow chamber—how many babe
has gone from earth to Heaven—how
many a little crib or cradle stands silent
now, which last Saturday night held the
rarest treasures of the heart.
A week is a life. A week is a history.
A week marks events of sorrow and glad- •
ness which people never beard. Go home
to your family, man in business'. Go home
to your heart, erring wanderer! Go home
to the chair that awaits yon, wronged
waif on life's breakers ! Go home to those
you love, 'man of toil, and give one night
to the joys and comforts fast flying by !
Leave your book with 'complex figures
—your dingy office—your busy shop !
Rest with those you love, for Heaven only
knows what the next Saturdy night will
bring you! Forget the world of care and
the battles of life which have furrowed the
week. Draw close around the family
hearth ! Saturday night has awaited your
coming in sadness, in tears, and in silence.
Go home to those you love, and as bask in
the loved presence, and meet to return
the loved embrace of your heart's pets,
strive to be a better man, and bless Heaven
for giving its weary children so dear a"
stepping stone in the river of the eternal,
as Saturday night.
Kind Words
As the breath of the dew to the tender
plant, they gently fall upon the drooping
heart, refreshing its withered tendrils, and
soothing its burning woes. Bright vases
they are, in life's great desert. Who can
estimate the pangs ~ t hey have alleviated,
or the good works they have accomplish
ed.
Long after they are uttered do they re
verberate in the soul's easy [chamber, and
sing low, sweet, liquid strains, that quell
all the raging storms that may have before
existed. And oh ! when the heart is
sad, and like a broken harp, the sweetest
chords of pleasure cease to vibrate, who
can tell the power of one kind word? One
little word of tenderness, gushing in upon
the soul, will sweep the long neglected
chords, and awaken the most pleasant
strains.
When borne down with trials and trou
bles of life, we are ready to sink fainting
by the way, how like the cheering rays of
sunshine, do kind words come. They dis
perse the clouds, dispel the gloom, and
drive sorrow far away.
Kind works are like jewels in the heart,
never to be forgotten, but, -perhaps, to
cheer, by their memory, a long, sad
While words of cruelty are like darts in the
bosom, wounding and leaving scars, that
will be borne to the grave by their victim.
Why is it, then, that we do not always
seek, by kind words, to scatter sunbeams
along the path-wa of others ?
Love in the Household.
There is one place where love is more
nearly supreme than anywhere else, and
that is where success has been achieved
more nearly than anywhere else. I refer
to the household. There the fountain of
love is never sealed. There love is more
nearly on the pattern of love in hesven
than anywhere else. That is the bright
spot of human history. While nations
have gone on, voluminous, vast, dark, with
desolation on every hand, groaning and.
travailing in pain util now ; while there
have been outward conflicts innumerable;
while the world has beon full of confusion
and crying and misery, there have been in
all lands houses with families secluded in
them. And that which the State lacked,
and business lacked, and all men outside
of the household has possessed. Equity,
justice, forgiveness, have flourished in the
household.
Keep to one Thing.
We earnestly entreat every yutuig ansn—
after he has chosen one vocation, to stick
to it. Don't leave it because hard blows
are to be struck, or disagreeable work per
formed. T!iose who have worked their
way up to wealth and usefulnesd,do not
belong to the shiftless and unstable class,
but be reckoned among such as took off
their coats, rolled up their sleeves, con
quered their prejudices against labor, and
manfully bore the heat and burden of the
day. Whether upon the old farm, where
our fathers toiled„ diligently, - striving to
bring the soil to productiveness; ia - the
machine shop or factory, or the thousand
other business places that create honest
toil and skill, let the motto ever be : "Pre
serverance and Industry."
Prompted by Love
One morning I found little Dora busy
at the ironing table, smoothing the towels -
and stockings.
"Isn't it hard work for the little arms?"
I asked.
A look like sunshine came into her faes.
as she glanced toward her mother, who was
rocking the baby.
"It isn't hard work when I do it for
mamma," she said softly.
How true it is that love makes 'labor
sweet ! So, if we love the blessed Saviour,
we shall not find-it-bard to-work-for-Him.
It is love that makes His yoke easy au& .
His burden light.
Praying for Father.
A dear little girl Lad been taught to
pray specially for her &ler. Hehad been
suddenly taken away. Kneeling - at her
evening devotion, her voice faltered; and
as her eyes met her mother's she sobbed :
' 6 O mother ! I cannot leave him all out.
Let me say thank God that I had a dear
father once, so I can keep him in my pray
ers." Many stricken hearts may learn a
sweet lesson from this child. Let us re
member
to thank God for mercies past, as
well as to ask for blessings for .the future.
Duty Before Pleasure.
There is a beautiful legend illustrating
the blessedness of performing our duty at
whatever coseto our own inclinations. A
beautiful vision of our Saviour had ap
peared to a monk, and in silent bliss he
was gazing upon it. The hour arrived at
which he was to feed the poor of the con
vent. He lingered not in his cell to en
joy the vision, but he left to perform his
humble duty. When he returned ho
found the blessed vision still waiting fur
him, and uttering these words: "Hatist
thou staid, I must have fled."
'