OL. 46
Huntingdon Journal,
T. A. NASH,
LTRBORROW,
a the Corner of Bath and Washington streets.
Ilurrnicnort .Tottanat. is published every
day, by J. It. Dtrunonitow and J. A. NAsn,
he firm name of J. It. DERBORROW & CO., at
•r.annutn, IN ADVANCE, or $2,50 if not paid
ix months from date of subscription, and
t paid within the year.
iper discontinued, unless at the option of
lishers. until all arrearames are paid.
13ItTISEMENTS will he inserted at TEN
per line for each of the first four insertions,
CENTS per lin, for each subsequent inscr
s than three months.
lar monthly and yearly advertisements will
led at the following rates :
3ml6m 9 mil y I 3m 6m mil y
2 501 400 5 Gel 6 00,!4col 900 18 00 $ 27 1 $ 36
400 £ 00 , 10 00112 00ViA" 24 00 36'0 •60 65
600 10 00'14 00,18 00,y, 3400 1 5000 65 80
8 00,14 00 . 20 00,21001
9 50 , 18 00125 00130 004 col 38 00 60 00 80 100
al notices will lie inserted at TWELVE 400
CENTS leer line, and local and editorial no-
VTEI, CENTS lier
. . . . . .
.6solutions of As . sociations, Communicat ions
ed or individual interest > and notices of Mar
ind Deaths, exceeding fire lines, will be
TEN CENTS per line.
1 and other notices will be charged to the
acing them interted.
rtising Agents must find their commission
of these figures.
drertiming7recoonts are doe and collectable
c adecrtisement is once inserted.
PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and
Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.—
Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets. &e., of every
and style, printed at the shortest notice,
wy thing in the Printing line will be cares
he most artistic manner and at the lowest
Professional Cards.
DENGATE, Surveyor, Warriors
mark, Pa. [ap12,71.
CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law,
No. 111, 3d street. Office formerly occupied
.srs. Woods & Williamson. [ap12,71.
:,. R. R.IVIESTLING,
respectfully offers his professional services
Atisens of Huntingdon and vicinity.
t removed to No. 61S1 Hill street, (Seines
Na.) [apr.s,7l-Iy.
L. J. C. FLEMMING respectfully
>tiers his professional services to the citizens
tingdon and vicinity. Office second floor of
igham's building, on corner of 4th and Hill
may 24.
L. D. P. MILLER, Office on Rill
street,•in the room formerly occupied by
hn M'Culloch, Huntingdon, Pa., would res
ly offer his professional services to the cid
' Huntingdon and vicinity. Dau.4,11.
t. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
professional services to"the community.
e on Washington street, one door east of the
is Parsonage. Dan. 4,11.
Z. G. D. ARNOLD, Graduate of the
University of Pennsylvania, offers his pro
tal services to the people of Huntingdon and
ERENCE :—Dr. B. P. Hook,of Loymille, Pa.,
, hom he formerly practiced; Drs. Stine and
r of Philadelphia.
.e on Washington street, West Huntingdon,
[ap.19,11.
J. GREENE, Dentist. Office re
znoved to Loister's new building, Hill street
ngdon.
L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T.
• Ilrcisn's new building, No. 520, Hill St.,
ngdon, Pa. [ap12,71.
GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner
• of Washington and Smith streets, Hun
3n, Pa. [jan.l27l.
C. MADDEN, Attorney-at• Law.
• Office, No. —, Hill street, Huntingdon,
[ap.19,'71.
SYLVANUS BLAIR, Attorney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street,
doors west of Smith. Dan.47l.
R. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth•
, ~,,,,,,
miry, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun
on, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded.
Liquors for Medicinal purposes. Ln0v.23,70.
HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law,
Huntingdon, Pa. Office, second floor of
Jr's new building, IEII stret. Dan. 4,11.
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 deco-
Bee in he JonitnAL Building. [feb.ll7l
A. POLLOCK, Surveyor and Real
Estate Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend
irveying in all its branches. Will also buy,
or rent Farms, Houses, and Real Estate of ev-
Lind, in any part of the United States. Send
circular. [jan.4'7l.
W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law
• and General Claim Agent, Iluntingdon, Pa.,
iers' claims against the Government for back
bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend
, with great care and promptness.
flee on Hill street. Dan. 4,71.
ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at-
L• Law, Huntingdon', Pa. Special attention
nto COLLECTIONS of all kinds ; to the settle
t of Estates, &c.; and all other Legal Business
ecuted with fidelity and dispatch.
VIA Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton
or, Esq. [jan.4,'7l.
TILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at-
Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly
11 legal business. Office in Cunningham's new
ding. Dan. 4,71.
I M. & M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys
• at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to
kinds of legal business entrusted to their care.
ffice on the south side of 11111 street, fourth door
t of Smith. [jan.4,'7l.
Attorney-at-Law,
1'• Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa.
Driay3l;7l
IN SCOTT. R. T. BROWN. ,le If. BAILEY
COTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At
torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions,
l all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against
Government will be promptly prosecuted.
)ffice on Hill street. Dan.4,'7l.
I W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun
- • tingdon, Pa. Offiee will, J. Sewell Stewart,
1. [jan.4,'7l.
VILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney :
V at-Law,. Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
, en to collections, and all other legal business
ended to with care and promptness. Of f ice, No.
I, Hill street. [ap19,"71.
Miscellaneous
i I XCHANGE HOTEL, Huntingdon,
A Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor.
January 4, 1871.
ALLISON KILLER. R.
{ILLER dr. Blierf AN-AN,
DENTISTS,
Na 228 Hill Street,
MINTIIcGDON, PA
April 5, '7l-ly
"EAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT,
COR. WAYNE ftml JUNIATA STREETT
UNITED STATES HOTEL,
HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA
'CLAIN J 6 CO, PROPRIETORS.
plot OBT. KING, Merchant Taylor, 412
Lai Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib
•al share of patronage respectfully solicited.
April 12, 1871.
he Huntingdon Journal.
gin -4,; uoto' fflotutr.
A Sterling Old Poem
Who shall judge from his manner?
Who shalkknow him by his dress ?
Paupers may be fit for princes,
Princes fit for something less.
Crumpled shirt and dirty jacket
May beclothe the golden ore
Or the deepest thoughts and feelings—
Satin vest can do no more.
There arc streams of crystal nectar
Even flowing out of stone ;
There are purple beds and golden
Hidden, crushed, and overflown.
God, who counts by soul, not dresses,
Loves and prospers you and me,
While he values thrones the highest
But as pebbles in the sea.
Man upraised above his fellows,
Oft forgets his fellows then ;
Masters—rulers—lords ; remember
That your meanest kinds of men ;
Men of labor, men of feeling,
Men of thought, men of fame,
Claiming rights to sunshine
In a man's ennobling name.
There are foamed-embroidered oceans,
There are little wood-clad rills;
There are feeble inch high saplings,
There are cedars on the hills.
God, counts by soul, not station,
Loves and prospers you and me,
For to him all vain distinctions
Are as pebbles in the sea.
Toiling hands alone are builders
Of a nations' wealth and fame,
Titled laziness is pensioned,
Fed and fattened on the same ;
By the sweat of other foreheads,
Living only to rejoice,
While the poor man's outraged freedom
Vainly lifts its feeble voice.
Truth and justice are eternal,
Born with lovliness and light;
Secret wrongs shall never prosper
While there is a sunny right.
God, whose world-wise voice is singing
Boundless love.yo you and me,
Counts oppression with its titles
But as pebbles in the sea.
Übe Alor2-Zeller.
The Beggar Girl of Paris
Dunn% the "Reign of Terror" in France
there were many deeds of daring performed
even by women, and many examples of
affection exhibited. The streets of Paris
were deluged with human blood, but near
the guillotine it ran in torrents. One dark
morning an unusual number of aristocracy
had been marched forth, and countless life
less heads rolled from the block. Gaping
multitudes stood by, and with shouts rent
the air as the aristocracy were thus butch
ered.
Among the assembled multitude that
dreary morning were two females. One of
them was plainly clad, while a cloak was
thrown around her with which she kept
her features nearly concealed. But a close
observation would betray the fact that the
woman had been weeping. Her eyes were
inflamed and red, and she gazed upon the
platform, while a shock of the glittering
knife severed the head from the body of
some one who had been unfortunate enough
to fall under \ the ban of the two leaders.—
The face of the woman was young—not
more than sixteen or eighteen years of
age.
The other female was quite different in
character. Her face was fair, but there
was a brazen expression about it. She was
clad in rags, and as each head fell, she
would dance, and in various ways she would
dm. in various ways
express her delight, and then exclaim :
"There falls another aristocrat who re
fused -me charity when I humbly sued
him."
Each expression of the kind would create
a laugh from those who heard her. But
any thoughtful person must wonder that
one so .young could have been so depraved.
The first female watched this creature for
a few moments, and then pressing her hand
to her side, she laid a hand on the shoul
der of the wretch and whispered :
"Would you like to become rich at once?"
The female of rags turned about with a
look of surprise, burst into a loud laugh,
and then replied :
"Of course I would !"
"Folio g me and you shall be."
"Enough. Lead on."
It was with considerable difficulty that
the females extracted themselves from the
crowd ; but they did so at length, and the
first female asked of the other :
"What shall I call you ?"
"Oh !,I'm called the Beggar Girl Marie."
"You live on begging ?"
"Yes; but what's your name, and what
do you want ?"
4 •My name is Marie, the same as your
own."
"Are you an aristocrat ?"
"It does not matter. If you know where
you can fitcd a room lead me to it, and you
shall have gold."
The pauper led the way into a narrow,
filthy street, and then down into a cellar
and into a dark, filthy room. The other
female could not but feel a sickening sen
sation creep over her, but she recovered
herself. After contemplating for a time
the apartment and what it contained, she
asked
you - wennowil iVraiis?"
"Yes, everybody knows Marie, the Beg
gar Girl."
"Are you known to Robespierre ? If
so, I want to make a bargain with you."
• "I am. What do you wish ?"!
"You see that my clothing is better than
your own, and I wish to exchange with
you. I want you to remain here and not
show yourself at all for a short time, or
until I come to you again. As a recoth
pense for aiding me I will now give you
a thousand francs. As a security for my
return, take this ring.
The lady drew a diamond ring from her
finger and gave it to the beggar girl, then
handed her a purse containing gold. The
girl appeared a little puzzled, then asked:
"Well, what are you going to do with
my dress ?"
want to put it on and go where I first
met you."
"lih! I understand you now. You want
to see the chopping go on, and you are
afraid that you will be taken for an aristo
crat if you wear that dress. You want to
represent me."
"Yes, I want to look as near like you as
possible."
They exchanged dresses ; and soon the
young, rich and noble Marie de Nantes was
clad in the rags of the Beggar Girl of Par
is. Thd . history of Marie de Nantes was a
sad one. Her Either and two brothers had
fallen victims to the remorseless fiends of
the revolution, and a third and last broth
er had been seized. But of his fate she
was ignorant, although she expected that
it would be similar to that of her relatives.
He had been torn from her buta few hours
before. After the exchange had been made
3felils-tt
the pauper looked on the stockingless and
shoeless feet and ankles of the lady, and
said :
"That will never do. Your feet are too
white and delicate. Let me arrange mat
ters."
In a few moments Marie was prepared,
and in the fiilth and rags she emerged into
the street. She now took her course back
toward the guillotine, and at length reach
ed the square, where the bloody work was
still going_on. Gradually she forced her
way through the crowd, and nearer she
came to the scaffold. She even forced a
laugh at several remarks she heard around
her, but those laughs sounded strangely.
She now stood within the platform, swept
it with her eyes, but her brother was not
there. The cry was raised.
Her heart fluttered violently, and she
felt a faintness come over her as she heard
the tramp of the doomed man approaching.
Her brother walked proudly and fearlessly
forward, and ascended the very steps that
led to the block. Marie's heart had failed
her, and she was unable to put her resolve
into execution. But now a sister's love
swelled up in her heart, and she recovered
her strength. She sprang forward, burst
ing through the line of guards, and ran
up the steps. Grasping her brother by
the hands, she cried :
"What does this mean ? It is only the
aristocrats that are to die."
"Away woman," exclaimed one of the
executioners.
"No; I will not go away until you tel
me why my brother is bound."
"YoUr grother was an echo."
"Well, who are you ?"
"I am Marie;,donyou know me ?"
"The Beggar Girl ?' 7
"Aye."
"But this is not your brother ?"
"It is. Ask him'—ask him."
_Young Antonio de Nantes had turned a
scornfal glance upon the maiden, but a
light crossed his face as he murmured:
"0, my sister."
"Is this your brother?" asked Robespierre
of the supposed beggar, advancing near
her.
"It is." —
"Does Marie speak the truth ?" asked
Robespierre.
"She does," was the brother's reply.
"And are you de Nantes ?"
"I tell you I am her brother."
"Why did you not tell us of this be
fore ?"
"I attempted to speak, but was silen•
ced."
"But you might have declared your•
self."
"You would not have believed me."
"But your dress ?"
"It belongs to an aristocrat. Perhaps
to him for whom I was taken."
"Robespierre advanced close to young
Nantes, and gazed earnestly into his face;
then he approached Marie, and looked
steadily in her eyes for a short time. It
was a moment of trial to the poor girl.—
She trembled in spite of all her efforts to
be calm. She almost felt that she .was
lost, when the human fiend, whose word
was law, turned and said :
“Relewse the luau."
The chains were instantly remove& and
Antonio de Nantes walked down from the
scaffold, followed by his sister, while shouts
rent the air, for they supposed he was a
commoner who had thus been saved. The
young man worked his way through the
crowd as rapidly as possible, leading Marie.
They scarcely escaped it before the poor
girl fainted from tne intensity of her feel
ing. The brother scarcely kne'w what to
do, but a hand was laid upon his arm, and
a voice said :
"Bring her to my room again. She
will be safe there."
The brother conveyed her to the apart
ment of the pauper, and asked of her :
"Have you seen the female before ?"
"Yes! I know all about it," returned
the pauper. "She has done it, and lam
glad.'
Before the noble lady had returned to
consciousness the brother had learned all.
When she did so, they both sought more
secure quarters, after rewarding the beg
gar girl, as promised.
"Do you think Robespierre was really
deceived ?" asked Marie de Nantes.
think not," returned the brother.
"He saw your plan. He admired your
courage. Could a fiend have done less ?"
"Perhaps this was the case, but if so it
was a deed of mercy, and is the only one
that man ever did."
"You are right."
Antonio de Nantes was not again arrest
ed, and lived happily with that sister who
had so nobly periled her own life to save
him, by representing the Beggar Girl of
Paris.
pioallattem.
A Country Post-Office
A country post-office is thus described
by the Kennebec Journal :
There are sometimes tragic-comic scenes
witnessed at every well-regulated post
office. It is quite a humorous scene, when
the mails are in, the schools just out, and
the post-office is filled to overflowing4rst
are the little folks, small in stature, but
with a wonderful capacity for making a
noise—and what is a boy worth if he can't
make a noise? Here in one corner Tom
and Harry are engaged in the delightful
pastime of pulling each other's hair, and
seem to enjoy it immensely; and here are
a bevy of young misses, one of whom is
saying, "Now don't you tell for the world,"
to which they all assent with sundry jerks
of the head; and here just in front of us
is "Uncle John," asking "Aunt Hannah"
about "that ar' sick child," and at our left
two young ladies are watching with ex
pectant faces certain boxes, to see if he has
written. And when the mail is aistribu
ted it is quite a study to watch the faces
as the crowd passes out, from the self-im
portant office boy with his huge budget,
to the shy young widow with her single
dainty missive ; with now and then a sad
face---yearning for words that do not
come. The dull, empty boxes have a
meaningless look about them now • but a
moment ago they held the words of loving
hearts .and issues of important business
relations.
A IFIEDIcAL journal gives this as a cure
for a cold : Upon the first indication that
you have taken cold stop eating until the
cold is cured; drink freely of cold water,,
induce a free perspiration over the entire
body, either by exercise, the Turkish va
por, lamp or hot water, bath or wet sheet
pack, followed by a tepid spray or spong
ing; go to bed, cover up warm, and
breathe all the pure air you can. Nine
cases out of ten will yield to this treatment
in less than twelve hours, and the tenth
one will hardly continue twenty-four
hours.
HUNTINGDON, PA., AUGUST 23, 1871
About the . Beverage which Fizzes but
does not
As the warm weather approaches, soda
fountains, which have lain idle all winter,
are mounted again, syrups manufactured,
and various drug stores and confectionaries
prepard to furnish a large class of thirsty
citizens with a: foamy and favorite bever
age. A large proportion of our population,
including the fair sex, drink soda water as
occasion offers. Even the devotee of
Bourbon, who sneezes at thin wines, and
looks upon lager as a weak invention of
the enemy, relishes an occasional glass of
soda•when his coppers are hot and his blood
feverish. Others take it with a good dash
of whisky in each glass.
Soda water is simply plain water, heavi
ly charged with carbonic acid gas, the gas
being evolved through the action of sul
phuric acid on lime. Formerly *soda water
was made with soda and tartaric acid, but
as the sulphuric acid plan is much cheaper
it is generally adopted. The fountains
charged with soda water are subjected to a
heavy pressure, and when the work is care
lessly done they not unfrequently explode
—sometimes causing loss of life. Soda
water, without syrup, if unimpregnated
with minerals, is a healthy and pleasant
beverage, having a slight biting, stinging
taste in the mouth and assisting in the
work of digestion when taken into the
stomach. In England it is generally taken
in this way or mixed with brandy. In
this country, however, it is usually taken
with syrups, flavored with some sort of
fruity essence, of which the chemist has
given us an endless variety. In this state
soda is more palatable, but not so healthy.
Soda water is deleterious, mostly on ac
count of the lead it holds in solution. Be
ing conveyed through leaden pipes, the
action of the carbonic acid gas rapidly ox
odizes the metal, which is hld in folution
by the beverage. Lead, as is well known,
is a dangerous poison. When the weather
is not, and the beverage in demand, the
danger is not so great, as the fountain is
exhausted before it has time to become
thoroughly impregnated, It is not so good
to drink soda on a cold, chilly day, when
there is little demand for it. And occa
sionally, in generating the gas, the sulphu
ric acid slops over and mixes with the bev
erage. . . .
Every popular fruit has its representa
tive syrup, tile customer paying his money
and taking his choice. The unsophistica
ted fondly imagine that these grateful syr
ups are manufactured directly from the
fruit, and it is a pity to undeceive them.
But the glory of chemistry, as demonstra
ted.in the manufacture of delicate flavors
from the most unpromising substances,
must be vindicated.
The most popular soda syrup is straw
berry. The glorious fruit after which it
is nanipd numbers its friends by the mil
lions, and the soda tippler, with the re
membrance of vanished strawberrier and
by gone cream still lingering on his palate,
when he orders a glass of soda takes straw
berry in "his'n." We trust that in ex
posing the formula for the manufacture of
strawberry syrup, nobody's appetite will be
spoiled.
Butyric ether is the base of all fr. 4 ay_
ether is made sometimes
of rancid butter, though old, rotten cheese
is generally preferred, the loudest quality
of limburger affording the best quality of
ether. The cheese is treated with sul
phuric acid, and if a particularly nice and
finely flavored ether is desired, a few chips
of old leather are added. Any sort of
leather will do, but old boots and shoes are
preferred. Strawberry syrup is made of
twelve parts of butyric ether and one part
of acetic ether, diluted with alcohol and
water. A pint of real strawberry syrup
added to the gallon of mixture will im
prove the syrup but it is not absolutely
necessary; color with cochineal.
Raspberry syrup is made after the same
formula, except that a pint of real raspber
ry syrup is added, if the chemist has it.
If not, he takes a jar of his strawberry
syrup, colors a little darker, and changes
the label.
Banana syrup is made of butyroamylic
ether, and acetic ether. The latter ether,
is formed by the action of sulphuric acid
on sugar of lead.
Sarsaparilla is the simplest and nastiest
of the syrups. Molasses is its base, with
a little essence of sasafras and wintergreen
added. A few roots of sarsaparilla "biled"
in the mixture will do no harm and no
good.
Vanilla syrup is made of tonqua beans
and fresh hay.
Pineapple syrup is made of butyric and
formic ether. Formic ether was formerly
made by the actiou of sulphuric acid on
red ants, but latterly it is made of glycer
ine soap.
Peact syrup is made of bitter almonds
and acetic ether. Twenty drops of bitter
almonds will kill a man.
Necter is formed by mixing various
syrups and adding slink madeira wine—
the wine being compounded of neutral
spirit, logwood, sugar and raisins.
Lemon syrup is the purest that can be
obtained. It is made of citric acid and
sugar, with perhaps a few lemon peels.
The citric acid is made of lemons.
Scores of other syrups are in use. Lat
terly, buchu is used to some extent. It
has a greenish,, nasty look, and a taste that
is unpleasant at first, though a taste for it
is easily acquired.
The above statements in regard to the
manufacture of syrups are a true bill.
A glass of soda water with syrups costs
the manufacturer about a cent or a cent
and a quarter. It retails for ten cents,
leaving a good margio for profit. The re
tailer makes from 800 to 900 per cent. on
each glass.
Notwithstanding all that we have said,
soda water is a comparatively harmless
beverage. Barring the led held in solu
tion it may be drank even to excess, and
the drinker live to a green old age. The
soda toper never disgraces himself by
whooping and yelling abOut streets or roll
ing in the gutter, never gets in the station
house, never beats his wife,. and doesn't
steal the spoon at the hotel table.
WHILE a vender of greens in Boston
was endeavoring to dispose of his stock his
poor old nag balked, and refused to budge
an inch.
The driver finally commenced belaboring
the animal with a stick, when an old lady
thrust her head out of the window and
exclaimed, "Have you no mercy ?"
"No, ma'am," replied the pedler, "Noth
ing but greens."
A Galesburg farmer Whose pew rent
was raised to $25, ' exclaimed : "Great
Ca3sar, here's a nice atat4, of affairs—the
gospel going up and pork going down.
What's to become of us ?"
A postmaster by the name of Goodele
when he is in a hurry, signs himself XX.
Stimulants
That man is a maniac, a deliberate sui
cide, who drinks tea, coffee, or ardent
spirits of any kind to induce him to per
form a work in hand, and when he feels
too weak to go through with it without
such aid. This is the reason that the
majority of great orators and public favor
ites die drunkards. The pulpit, the bench,
the bar, the forum, have contributed their
legions of victims to drunken habits. The
beautiful woman, the sweet singer, the
conversationalist, the periodical writers,
have filled but too often a drunkard's
grave. Now that the press has become
such a great power in the land, when the
magazine must come out on a certain day,
and the daily newspapers at a fixed hour,
nothing waits, everything must give way
to the inexorable call for copy, and sick or
well, disposed or indisposed, asleep or
awake, the copy must come; the writer
must compose his article, whether he feels
like it or not, and if he is not in the vein
of writing, he must whip himself up to it
by the stimulas of drink. Some of the
greatest writers of the country have con
fessed to the practice on urgent occasions,
of taking a sip of brandy at the end of
every written page or even oftener. Lord
Byron, at the end of every paragraph some
times !
It may have escaped the general reader's
notice, that more men have died young,
who have been connected with the New
York press, within ten years, and that too
from intemperance, than in all the other
educational callings put together ; young
men whose talents have been of the first
order, and gave promise of a life of useful
ness, honor and eminence. The best pos
sible thing for a man to do, when he feels
too tired to perform a task or too weak to
carry it through, is to go to bed and sleep
a week if he can; this is the only true
recuperation of brain Bower ; the only ac
tual renewal of brain force; because,
during sleep the brain is in a sense of rest,
in a condition to receive any appropriate
particles of nutriment from the blood
which take the place of those which have
been consumed in previous labor, since the
very act of thinking consumes,
burns up
solid particles, as every turn of the wheel
or screw of the splendid steamer is the re
sult of consumption by fire of the fuel in
the furnace. That supply of consumed
brain substance can only be had from the
nutrient particles in the blood which were
obtained from the food eaten previously,
and the brain is so constituted that it can
best receive and appropriate to itself those
nutrient particles during the state of rest,
quiet and of stillness sleep. Mere stim
ulants supply nothing themselves----they
goad the brain, force it to a greater con
sumption of its substance, until that sub
stance has'been so fully exhausted that
there is not power enough left to receive a
supply; just as men are so near death by
thirst or.starvation, that there is not pow
er enough left to swallow anything, and
all is over. The incapacity of the brain
for receiving recuperative particles some
times comes on with the rapidity of a stroke
of lightning, and the man - becomes mad in
an instant ; in an instant falls in convnl
lnang all SEMCP, and is
an idiot. it was unaer circumstances of
this very sort, in the very middle of a sen
tence of great oratorical power, one of the
most eminent minds of the ageskargot his
ideas, pressed his hand against his fore
head, and after a moment's silence said,
"God, as with a sponge, has blotted out
my mind." Be assured readers; "there is
rest for the weary," only in early and
abundant sleep, and wise and happy are
they who have firmness enough to resolve
that "By God's help I will seek it in no
other way."—Hall's Journal 0/ Health.
Boxing the Ears.
Boxing the ears is an inexcusable bru
tality ; many a child has been made deaf
for life by it, because the "clium" of the
ear is a membrane as thin as paper, stretch
ing like a curtain just inside the external
of the ear. There is nothing but air be
hind it, and any violent concussion is liable
to rend it in two, and the "hearing" is
destroyed forever, because the sense of
hearing is caused by the vibrations of this
drum or "tympanum." Picking the ears
is a most mischievous practice. In attempt.
ing to do this with hard substances, an
unlucky motion has many a time pierced
the drum and made it as useless as a
pierced India-rubber life preserver; noth
ing harder-or sharper than the end of the
little finger, with the nail pared, ought
ever to be introduced into the ear, un
less by a physician. Persons are often
seen endeavoring to remeve the "wax" of
the ear with the head of a pin ; this ought
never to be done, first, because it not only
endangers the rupture of the ear by being
pushed too far in, but not so far it may
grate against the drum, excite inflamma
tion and an ulcer, which will finally eat
all the parts away, especially of a scrofu
lous constitution; second, hard substances
have slipped in, and caused the necessity
of painful, dangerous and expensive oper
ations to fish or cut out; third, thg wax
is manufactured by nature to guard the
entrance from dust, insects and unmodified
cold air, and when it has subserved its
purpose, it becomes dry, scaly, light, and
in this condition is easily pushed outside
by new formations of wax within. Occa
sionally wax may harden, and may inter
fere with the hearing; but when this is
the case it is the part of wisdom to consult
a physician, and let him decide what is the
matter and what the remedy. If one can
not be had the only safe plan is to let fall
into the ear three or four drops of tepid
water night and morning; the saliva is
better still, it is softer and more penetra
ting, but glycerine is far preferable to
either ; it is one of the best, blandest
fluids in nature, and very rapidly pene
trates the hardest wax, cools the parts and
restores them to healthful condition. If,
in a week, there is not a decided improve
ment in the hearing, medical advice ought
to be had at once, as, next to the eye, the
ear is the most delicate organ of the body.
A CONFIDING individual who believes
everything he reads in the newspapers,
was advise in a stray item, to pin down
some old newspapers over his squashes to
keep the bugs off. He tried the experi
ment on one hill. Two days passed, and
on the morning of the third he raised the
covering expecting to find the plants in
third leaves, but, instead of this the ten
der plants were withered and dried up;
not a green thing remained. He had cov
ered the hill with the Bangor Democrat,
containing the speech of Jeff. Davis in
Georgia—enough to blast and stop the
growth of a "bull thistle."
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.
How to Keep Cool.
A correspondent furnishes the London
Times with the following hints, which will
be found pertinent to our own climate :
"In these hot days a cool apartment is
a real luxury, to be had far oftener than
most people suppose possible. The secret
consists not in letting in cool air, for nat
urally all do that whenever they can get a
chance, but in keeping out the hot air. If
the-air outside a room or house be cooler
than the air inside, let it in by all means;
but if it be hotter, carefully keep it out.
" A staircase window left open during
the night will often cool the passages of a
house, and the rooms, too, if their doors
be not shut ; but it must be closed at
eight or nine o'clock in the morning, or, if
on the sunny side, at four or five o'clock,
and the blind drawn down. The mistake
people generally make is to throw open
windows at all hours of the day, no mat
ter whether the atmosphere outside be
cool or scorching.
" Let us have some air, they say, and
in comes the treacherous breeze—for even
hot air is pleasant while it is gently blow•
ing, taking away perspiration, and there
by cooling the skin; ut this apartment
is made warmer; in spite of the draught
they find their room to be more uncom
fortable than before.
" Let in cool air—keep out hot—that is
the only formula to insure the minimum
of discomfort. Sitting-rooms may gener
ally be kept cool durinc , ' the whole day if
the doors be only opened for ingress and
egress, and windows kept closed and shield
ed from direct sunshine by a blind. If
the atmosphere of a room be impure from
any cause, let it be renewed, hot air is less
injurious than bad air. If a room be small
in comparison with the number of per
sons engaged in it, free ventilation be-
comes indispensible.
"In a cooking apartment the tempera
tore will probably be higher than outside,
hence the free admission of hot air will be
desirable. If persons do not object to sit
in a direct draught of air, windows and
door may be opened, a breeze being more
refreshing, even though several degrees
warmer, than still air ; but under nearly
all other circumstances rooms should be
kept closed as much as possible until after
sundown, or till the air outside is cooler
than that inside. Let in cool air; keep
out hot."
A Dead Hero.
Martin Cooney is the name of the boy
who, deep down in the horrid depths of
the Pittston mine, performed a deed of
heroic self-sacrifice which shames into in
significance the actions by which many
happier men have climbed to fame and
honor. Cooney and a companion stood at
the bottom of the shaft as the car was
about to ascend for the last time. High
above them roaring flame and blinding 1
smoke and the crash of falling timbers
were fast closing up the narrow way to
light and life; below them, in the gloomy
pit, were a score of men working on, uncon
scious of their deadly peril. Cooney, with
one foot upon the car, thought of his en
dangered friends. He proposed to his
compainey — strould`Mara and
warn the miners of their threatened fate. 1
Cooney, without a moment's hesitation,
but with full consciousness that he had
chosen almost certain death, leaped from
the car and groped his way back through
the grimy darkness. It was too late; the
miners had closed the ventilating door be
fore he reached them, standing there, be
tween that immovable barrier and the
shaft,the hot breath of the fiery pit poured
in upon him in a pitiless blast, and so he
died. He was but a lad, poor, unlearned,
and probably unconscious of possession of
the higher virtues, and yet he died as
great and noble a death as man can ever
die; he deliberately sacrificed his own life
in an attempt to save those of his friends.
Here is a theme for the most exalted poetic
genius. Compared with this poor boy, how
quickly do the profane and slangy heroes
of the coarse poetasters of the Hay school
sink into contempt; and how unworthy
and insufficient seems the fiction in which
they are placed ! It is from such persons
as this poor and obscure lad, doing deeds
of infinite heroism with a simplicity that is
altogether pathetic, that we learn that the
purer and higher qualities of the race—
the qualities which reveal the presence of
the spark of Divinity in the soul—exist
even yet in the humblest of mankind.
Sleeping, Fainting, Apoplexy.
When a man is asleep, his pulse beats
and his lungs play, but he is without sense,
and you can wake him up.
If a person faints, he, too, is without
sense, but he has no pulse and does not
breathe.
Apoplexy is between the two ; the heart
beats, the lungs play as in sleep, and there
is no sense as in fainting, but you cannot
shake the man back to life.
In sleep, the face is natural ; in a faint
ing fit, it has the pallor of death ; in apo
plexy, it is swollen, turgid, and fairly livid.
If a man is asleep let him alone;
nature
will wake him up as soon as he has got
sleep enough.
When a person faints, all that is needed
is to lay him down flat on the floor and he
will "come to" in double quick time. He
fainted because the heart missed a beat,
failed for an instant, failed for only once
to send the amount of blood to the brain.
If you place the patient in a horizontal
position, lay him on his back, it does not
require much force of the heart to send
blood on a level to the head ; but you set
a man up, the blood has to be shot upward
to the head, and this requires much more
force ; yet in nine cases out of ten, if a
person faints and falls to the floor, the first
thing done is to run to him and set-him
in a chair.
In apoplexy, as there is too much blood
in the head, every one can see that the
best position is to set a man up, and the
blood naturally tends downward, as much
so as water will come out of a bottle when
turned upside down, if the cork is out.
Dinner Horns
This is the oldest and most sacred kind
there is. It is set to musik, and plays
"Home Sweet Home" about noon. It will
arrest a man and bring him in quicker
than a sheriff's warrant. It kauses the
deaf to hear, and the dumb to shout for
joy. Glorious old instrument ! long may
your lungs last ! Whisky Horn : This
horn varys in length from three to six
inches in their favorite size. It is differ
ent from other horns, being of a fluid na
tur. It is really more pugnashus than
the ram's horn ; six inches of it will knock
a man perfectly calm—Josh Billings..
HE learns much who studies other men,
but he learns more who studies himself.
A Mistake,
It is a great mistake to suppose that
great wealth brings happiness, although
too many of us are in the habit of imagin
ing that such is the case. It was once said
by a millionaire, who had made his wealth
by his own efforts that the first dollar he
made gave him more delight than the
thousands he gathered afterward. He
learned to despise so small a thing as ai l
dollar, and in doing so forfeited all the
joy that its possession gave him. In all
our relations the value of small things is
constantly suggested to us. The sum of
happiness is made up of trifles. The fra
grance of a flower will sometimes steal over
our depressed and despondent spirits like
a golden memory, and fill us with an un
definable peace that dispatches all the
darkness from our souls. A cheery word,
an endearment or caress, or a voice of en
couragement will sometimes awaken our
half-dead hearts into new life, and change
the sullen and somber aspect of all things
around us into brightness and beauty.
The familiar hearts, the easy chair, the
open window, the well-worn book, the kiss
of children, the voice and smile of a loved
wife, the family board, the chance visit of
an esteemed friend, or to come down to
still smaller trifles, the evening pipe, the
merry hum of the tea kettle, and the
blazing fire after a battle with the rough
weather outside, these and such little
things as these, involve more happiness
and solace than the great triumphs and
success that awaits us in the world. The
world's triumphs and successes soon clog
us, so that we demand greater victories to
day than we were satisfied with yesterday.
But these little trifles, if we are wise
enough to be content with them, grow
dearer as they grow familiar, and become
parennial fountains of joy and solace. Let
us take care of the little things of life that
contain so much of happiness or misery,
and the great things may be left to take
of themselves.
Tit-Bits, Taken on the Fly.-
The last accounts from Zanzibar states
that Dr. Livingstone had made a journey
to a point 200 miles west of Tanganyika.
The New York Tribune announces the
return from the far West of Hon. G. A.
Grow, of Pennsylvania, in vigorous health.
The Democratic leaders in North Car
olina, in view of the recent defeat of their
party at the polls, are calling lustily for a
reorganization of the party.
Between fifty and sixty persons ; includ
ing the proprietor and wife of the Alham
bra Hotel, at Atlantic City, wine poison
ed one day last week by eating desert.
The Rev. Thomas H. Hanna, of Pitts
burgh, Penn., has distinguished himself
among his clerical brethren by refusing in
exchange his $2,500 salary in the City of
Smoke for a $6,000 salary (gold) in -Sanl
Francisco. Such loud calls as that seldom
go unheeded.
Victor Hugo's fortune is estimated at
over 2,000,000 francs, and yet since the
Yranee-ernesian war he has had an appre
hension that he might come to want, and
many believe he has grown deranged on
the subject of money—in other words that
he is a money maniac.
Secretary Boutwell confirms the Lon
don advices of the absorption of the re
mainder of the $200,000,000 five per
cent loan by Jay Cooke, M'Culloch & Co.,
in connection with other London capital
ists. The amount will be over one hund
red and thirty millions.
The Hon. Schuyler Colfax writes to a
friend in Washington that he is now in
excellent health, better than for many
years, that he is taking constant out-door
exercise in the field and garden, and wri
ting but little. Next week, in company
with Senator Windom, he will vist Minne
sota.
Mr. John Stuart Mill has been aston
ishing his Scottish friends by the versatil
ity of his accomplishments. While visiting
Edinburgh, this season, he passed much
of his time in sketching, which he does, it
is said, to perfection. Mr. Mill, besides,
is a fine pianist, an able philologist, arch
nlogist and botanist.
The New York thieves do it in this,
one of their many ways: A business
man, having a claim against New York
city of $lO,OOO, was unable to collect. it
until, after a significant intimation, he
made out his bill for $64,000. He then
promptly received his $lO,OOO, the balance
(54,000) having been pocketed by the
Tammany thieves. The Tribune gives
the name and residence of theparty engag
ed in this transaction.
The friends of the Cary sisters will be
pained, though not surprised, to learn that
Phabe Cary died at Newport, R. 1., on
Monday night. From a touching sketch
of her elder sister, written a few weeks
ago, for a paper called the Ladies Reposi
tory, we gather some particulars of, her
early life. The sisters were the daugh
ters of Robert and Elizabeth Cary. The
father was a farmer. His place, which
had been reclaimed from the original
wilderness, was about eight miles north of
Cincinnati, and lying in the Miami Valley.
Here Alice was born in 1820, and Phoebe
five years later. They grew up simple
country girls. They owed most of their
education to their mother, who appears to
have been a woman of unusual intelli
gence. They saw few books or newspa
pers, but wandering as they did daily
amid the picturesque scenes of the Miami
Valley, acquired that familiarity with and
fondness for nature which showed them
selves so plesantly in their writings in af
ter years.
A movement has been inaugurated at
Danville in this State, looking, it would
seem, to the union of labor and capital. A
call for a meeting, to be held at the rooms
of the "Anti-Union League," says : "Rec
ognizing the rights of all men, manufac
turer and laborer, must in the end triumph.
We believe in the eternal brotherhood of
mankind, that all men are equal before the
laws, that the rights and duties of all must
be respected to insure prosperity, peace
and happiness to society and the country.
No reign of terror, mob law or strikes can
exist without injury to all men." In con
clusion it adds : "Furnaces out of blast,
mines closed, mechanics idle, laborers out
of employment are the results of Unions
which are not based upon mutual princi
ples." The main object of this new or
ganization is to establish the idea that
strikes or lock-outs should invariably be
the last resort of laborers or employers,
and that mutual concession and concilia
tion be made the understanding between
the two classes.
NO. 33.
gin Al ow Crag.
Heaven
Beyond these chilling winds and gloomy skies,
Beyond death's cloudy portal,
There is a land where beauty never dies,
And love becomes immortal.
A land whose light is never dimmed by shade,
Whose fields are ever vernal;
Where nothing beautiful can ever fade,
But blooms for aye, eternal.
We may not know bow aired the balmy air,
How bright and fair its flowers;
We may not hear the songs that echo there ;
Through those enchanted bowers.
The city's shining towers we may not see,
With our dim earthly vision ;
For death, the silent warden, keeps the key
That open that elysian.
But sometimes wllen adown the western sky
The fiery sunset lingers,
Its golden gates swing inward noiselessly,
Unlocked by unseen fingers.
Aud while they stand a moment half ajar,
Gleams from the inner glory
Stream brightly through the azure vault afar,
And half reveal the story.
The Fruit of Sorrow.
He who has no dear friend in the better
world, who has not been called to surren
der to heaven on; whom he has cherished
here, lacks as yet an experience that would
link him to the spiritual and the eternal
with the most fervent sympathies of his
being. All heavenly he may be in his
temper and in his life; his faith may be
strong, his hopp bright, his .union with
Christ complete, but he wants that tender
and endearing sympathy with heaven that
comes from having there a parent, a child,
a sister, a wife, and that gives to the un
seen world a home like feeling and a pre
sent reality. He who has caught the last
affectionate breathings of the departing
saint, who, even as from the other side of
the river of death, has received the fare
well greeting of faith, and love, and joy,
has henceforth a new experience of things
spiritual and heavenly; has a vested inter
est in heaven, has a more assured hold
upon its realities, and is a nearer partaker
of its life.
The gain of such an experience,
the
value of such a palpable and personal in
terest in that world, may well mitigate, if
it do not compensate, his loss. New links
bind him to that great spiritual world of
which he is a member, and of which he
shall soon become more cognizant, when
flesh and sense and all the external media
of thought shall give place to the direct
intuition of God and of the future state.—
As each relationship of life—son, brother,
husband, father—opens a new experience
of sympathy and affection, so does this per
sonal affinity with some already in the
world of spirits—the marriage of souls that
survives •the dissolution of earthly ties—
bring with it a life-like experience of the
unseen, the spiritual, the eternal that binds
the soul more closely to its higher destiny,
and imparts to it in hopes and aspirations
an exceeding gain. Why art thou bur
dened, 0, my soul, with the pain of earth
ly loss ! Is not thy loss their gain whom
thou diclgt love ? and if their gain is not
thy gain also, who art forever linlied — to
them as a partner of their blessedness ?
J. P. Thompson. _ _ _
Level Up.
It is better to level up than to level
down. The average man grabitates down;
ward with sufficient rapidity when left
alone. Even the practice and principles
of the Christian need• bckcing. The wise
physician does not, in ordinary cases, ad
minister laxatives continuously, nor with
great frequency. He makes larger accounts
of tonics. It is agreed, and by those who
are not devoted to the dissemination of the
principles of puritanism, that the age
tends to laxness. Self-indulgence com
mands the greatest host. Of Christians
whose knees are weak, and whose arms are
feeble, who go forth to battle with "sword
of lath and shield of pasteboard," we have
whole regiments. We want men and wo
men in our churches and out of churches,
who think of other things than how far it
is safe to go in the direction of danger.—
The age wants_v_eriebraLcolumns. In the
prayer meeting, and the pulpit, in the
home and the street, by the preaching of
the life and..lips, of the voice and pen—be
a tonic. Or, to come back to the original
figure, level up.—Congregationalist.
The Dying Never Weep.
It is a striking fact that the dying never
weep. The sobbing, the heart-breaking
agony of the circle of friends around the
death-bed call forth no responsive tears
from the dying. Is it because he is insen
sible and stiff in the chill of dissolution ?
That cannot be, for he asks for his father's
hand, as if to gain strength in the nibrtal
struggle, and leans on the breast of his
mother, sister or brother in still conscious
affection. Just before expiring, he calls
the loved ones, and with quivering lips
says, "Kiss me !" showing that the love he
has ever borne in his heart is still fresh
and warm.. It must•be because the dying
have reached too deep for earthly sorrows,
too transcendent for weeping. They are
face to face with higher and holier things,
with the Father in Heaven and His angels.
There is no weeping in that blessed abode
to which he is hastening.
Old Age Without Religion.
Alas! for him who grows old without
growing wise, and to whom the future
world does not set open her gates, when
he is excluded by the present. The Lord
deals so graciously with us in the decline
of life, that it is a shame to turn a deaf
ear to the lessons which He gives. The
eye becomes dim, the ear dull, the tongue
falters, the feet totter, all the senses refuse
to do their office, and from every side re
sounds the call, "Set thy house in order,
for the term of thy pilgrimage is at hand."
Thy playmates of youth, the fellow la
borers of manhood die away, and take the
road before us. Old age is like some quiet
chamber, in which, disconnected with the
visible world, we can prepare in silence for
the world that is unseen.—Tkolack.
The Bible.
Out of it have come all pure moralities,
forth from it have sprung all sweet chari
ties. It has been the motive power of re
generation and reformation to millions of
men. It has comforted the humble, con
soled the mourning, sustained the suffering
and given trust and triumph to the dying.
The wise old man has fallen asleep with it
folded to his breast. The simple cottager
has used it for his dying pillow; and even
the innocent child has breathed its last
happy smile with its fingers between its
promise-freighted leaves.