VOL. 46 ie Huntingdon Journal, J. A. NASH, L DURBORROTV, PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS . on the Corner of Bath and Washington streets. lIE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL is published every Tuesday, by J. It. DURBORROW and J. A. Nem, er the firm name of J. It. DURDORROW lc Co., at .0 per annum, IN ADVANCE, or $2,50 if not paid in six months from date of subscription, and f not paid within the year. .3 paper discontinued, unless at the option of publishers, until all arrearages are paid. DVERTISEMENTS will be inserted at TEN TS per line for each of the first four insertions, rive CENTS per line for each subsequent inner , less than three months. .egular monthly and yearly advertisements will nserted at the following rates : 3ml emi 9ml 6 zni 9 ml 1 y TI E 00 1 13.0 5 0%11 411° 200W124 9 m oo l arco\ S 43 21 0 1 1.0 00 14 000.8 00 9, " 34 00 4000 65 04 00 20 00121 00 08 00'25 00130 00 1.1 38 00 80 00 80 eh 27 400 • 6 00 • 809 050, posh.' notices will be inserted at TWELVE ALF celas per line, and loco./ and editorial no s at FIFTEEN CENTS per line. 11 Resolutions of Associations, Communications suited or individual interest, and notices of Mar es and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be rged vex CENTS per line. egal and other notices will be charged to the ty having them inserted. dvertising ,'..gents must find their commission side of these figures. ll advertising accounts are doe and collectable n the advertisement is once inserted. OB PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and cy Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.— id-bills, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, Ste., of every ety and style, printed at the shortest notice, every thing in the Printing line will be execu in the most artistic softener and at the lowest Professional Cards, DENGATE, Surveyor, Warriors • mark, Pa. [ap12,71. CALDWELL, Attorney -at -Law, • •No. 111, Id street. Office formerly occupied dessrs. Woods Is Williamson. [apl2,'7l. tR. R. R. WIESTLING, respectfully offers his professional services citizens of Huntingdon and vicinity. Mee removed to No. 6tS Hill street, (Sutra's torso.) [apr.s.'7l-Iy. IR. J. C. FLEMMING respectfully • offers his professional services to the citizens funtingdon and vicinity. Office second floor of ninghana's building, on corner of 4th and Hill et. may 24. IR. D. P. MILLER, Office on Hill street, in the room formerly occupied by John M'Cnlloch, Huntingdon, Pa., would res fully offer his professional services to the citi of Huntingdon and vicinity. [jan.4,'7l. • R. A. B essional servi. BRUM es BAUGH, offers his profc to the community. Moe on Washington street, one door east of the sone Parsonage. [j..4,'71. Office re ig, Hill street [jan.4,'7l. J. GREENE, Dentist. I • moved to Leieter's new buildin; ttingdon. I L. ROBE, Dentist, office in S. T. r• Hmon'a DSW building, No. 520, Hill St., itingdon, Pa. [ap12,71. r GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner `• of Washington and Smith streets. Hun don, Pa. Dan. 12.71. U C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law a..• Offi ce , No. —, 1011 stroet Lap.lV, 71- SYLVANIIS BLAIR, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street, a doors west of Smith. Dan.47l. It. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth • scary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Hun don, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded. o Liquors for Medicinal purposes. [n0r.23,'70. HALL MUSSED,, Attorney-at-Law, • Huntingdon, Pa. Office, second floor of iter's new building, Hill street. [jan.4,7l. R. DURBORROW, Attorney-at • Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the mil Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular cation given to the settlement of estates of dece ts. [feb.l,7l. Q. in he Jounusi. Building. A. POLLOCK, Surveyor and Real • Estate Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend .urveying in all its branches. Will also buy, or rent Farms, Houses, and Real Estate of er kind, in any part of the United States. Send a circular. [jan.47l. W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law • and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa., Hers' claims against the Government for back , bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend o with great care and promptness. ffice on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at- L • Law, Huntingdon,Pa. Special attention :n to CoLLectioNs of all kinds; to the settle it of Estates ' &c.; and all other Legal Business scented with Sdelity and dispatch. gr Office in room - lately occ r upied by It. Milton or, Esq. Dan. 4,71. .LLISON MILLER. H. TILLER & BUCHANAN, DENTISTS o. 223 Hill Street, HUNTINGDON, PA .pril 5,11-Iy. TILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at -A- Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly 11 legal business. Office in Cunningham's new 'ding, Dan.4,'7l. M. az M. S. LYTLE, Attorneys • at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., will attend to hinds of legal business entrusted to their care. Mee on the south side of 11111 street, fourth door t of Smith. [jan.4,'7l. ) A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law, Ils• Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa. [may3l,7l. SCOTT. S. T. BROWN. J. N. BAILEY COTT, BROWN & BAILEY, At ' torneys-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions, all elaims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against Government will ho promptly prosecuted. 'Mee on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l. I W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun - • tingdon, Pa. Office with J. Sewell Stewart, I. Ljaa.4,'7l. PILLIAM A. FLEMING, Attorney at-Law. Irluntingdon,Pa. Special attention en to collections, and all other legal business ended to with care and promptness. Office, No. , 11111 street. [ap 19;11 . Miscellaneous IXCHANCIE HOTEL, Huntingdon, A Pa. JOHN S. MILLER, Proprietor. 'estuary 4, 1871. 4 - EAR THE RAILROAD DEPOT, COR. WAYNE and JUNIATA STREETT UNITED STATES HOTEL, HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA CLAIN k CO., PROPRIBTORS ?OBT. KING,, Merchant Taylor, 412 Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib -1 share of patronage respectfully solicited. tpril 12, 1871. EWISTOWN BOILER WORKS, A SVYDR , WEIDNER fe - era of Locomotireand Stationary Boilers, Tanks, ses, Filling-Barrows for Furnaces, and Sheet n Work of every description. Works on Logan set, Lewistown, P. 111 orders p,—.)My attended to. Repairing se at short ...As. [Apr 5,'71,1y.4 iii * %,; f - f .• • he un t in g_s on Journal. New Advertisements, TO ADVERTISERS: THE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL. PUBLISL - ,D EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING J. R. DURBORROW & J. A. NASH. Office corner of Washington and Bath Sts., HUNTINGDON, PA. THE BEST ADVERTISING MEDIUM CENTRAL PENNSYLVANIA. CIRCULATION 1700 HOME AND FOREIGN ADVERTISE MENTS INSERTED ON REA SONABLE TERMS. A FIRST CLASS NEWSPAPER TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION $2.00 per annum in advance. $2 50 within six months. $3.00 if not paid within the year. JOB PRINTING ALL KINDS OF JOB WORK DONE WITII NEATNESS AND DISPATCII, AND IN THE "That is easily exp!ained," replied the other with a smile, "I am the man whose life you saved. The Maine captain is now a Major in the regular army. I knew your voice the moment you spoke. Give 1312 your hand, comrade." POSTERS OF ANY SIZE, I The soldier hesitated. LATEST AND MOST IMPROVED STYLE, SIJCIII AM CIRCULARS, BUSINESS CARDS, WEDDING AND VISITING CARDS, BALL TICKETS. PROGRAMMES, CONCERT TICKETS, ORDER BOOKS, SEGAR LABELS, RECEIPTS, PHOTOGRAPHER'S CARDS, BILL HEADS, LETTER HEADS, PAPER BOOKS, ETC., ETC., ETC., ETC., ETC., ,o, Mohls-tf Our facilities for doing all kinds of Job Printing superior to any other establish ment in the county. Orders by mail promptly filled. All letters should be ad dressed, J. R. DURBOBROW & CO. he DMA' Nowa. Lay the plaided frock away, And the yellow buttoned boots ; Charlie does not need them now, Cannot wear the pretty suit. If you ask, "Why, where is Charlie ?' Quivering lips will faintly say, Little Charlie's gently resting, He has been "so tired of play." Pure and white the robe around him Soft and white his narrow bed ; Cool and soft that's o'er him, Ah, you ask-- ,, is Charlie dead ?" No, not dead, but sweetly resting— When the sunset closed the day, Little Charlie, prattling, murmured, "0 ! I am so tired of play." Tired of play the busy fingers, Tired of play the restless feet, Tired the voice, whose merry laughter Filled the house with echoes sweet, So we say our darling's resting, In a slumber calm and deep; Tho' the birds are singing o'er him— Tho' the stars still vigils keep. O'er his bed the storms may mutter, They can wake him never more, Yet we do not say we've lost him, Only that lie's gone before. For we know he rests securely, In the Heavenly Father's care, 'llong the lambs the Saviour's keeping, For his pastures green and fair. Aorg-Zdta. Tlio hither !num "HERE, Red Cap!" cried a tall, well built gentleman, standing on the steps of the Metropolitan Hotel, one fine May even ing in the year 1869. The man addressed as "Red Cap," was sauntering slowly by the hotel. His garb of faded blue—his red cap, and the empty right sleeve of his coat told that he was a disabled soldier. One who had fought for Uncle Sam and had left his trusty right arm on some southern battle-field. And now, the soldier who had marched to the quickstepi of the Union and sealed his loy alty with his blood, was reduced to earning a scanty substance as a "Soldier Messen ger"—a carrier of letters and parcels, ea ger to do any errand to gain him bread. They say that Republics are ungrateful. That the Soldier Messenger Corps exist, proves the truth of the saying. The soldier turned at the call, and ad vanced to the man on the steps. In person, the soldier was a good-look ing fellow of, perhaps, five and twenty; with a frank, honest face. The short, black hair—mustache of the same hue, and a certain independent carriage of the head—hard to describe, but once semi, not easily forgotten—told plainly that he was a New York boy-__ you carry tiTe - Cter fur mu to ruin -avenue - re — asked the gentleman on the steps, as the soldier came up to him. "Yes, sir," replied the messenger, in a full, lnanly voice. The stranger on the steps started as the tones of the soldier's voice fell upon his ear. Eagerly he looked into the other's face. "Haven't I met you before?" he asked, quickly. A moment the soldier looked at the face of the gentleman - before replying; then he shook his head. "I think not, sir," he said, "although your face does seem familiar to me." "I am Major Whitton, of the Twenty ninth." The soldier touched his cap, respectfully, at the announcement of the other's rank. "I don't remember the name, sir," the Red Cap said. "What regiment were you in ?" "The Fifty-first New York." "Do you remember, at Fredericksburg, a captain of the Sixth Maine, shot through the shoulder and lying helpless on the field, when the signal for retreat was giv en ?" "Yes, sir," replied the soldier. "You took the helpless man in your arms and carried him to the rear—placed him in an ambulance and thus saved his life." "Yes, I remember - it," said the soldier, rather astonished at the knowledge of the other. "I only did what was right—noth ing more. But I don't understand how it is that you know the circumstances of the affair." "Why, major, I'm only a poor worthless devil—" "The badge of your worth is there, my friend," and the major laid his finger, gently, upon the soldier's empty sleeve, "and it is a black spot upon our honor as a nation, that we let our disabled soldiers almost starve in the streets, while we waste millions on ice-bergs and earthquakes, in the shape of new territory." "Ours is a big country, major. Uncle Sam has probably forgotten us poor fel lows, though we didn't forget him in the hour of danger," said the soldier, cheer fully. "My name is Whitton; what may I call yours ?" asked the major. "Ames—Robert Ames," replied the sol dier. "I am a shipwright by trade. I worked at a yard near Grcenpuint, before the war." LEGAL BLANKS, A shrill scream ringing out on the still evening air attracted dm attention of the two. The scream came from a woman's lips. In crossing Broadway the woman had been knocked down by an omnibus, and had fallen right in front of the horses. Quickly the soldier and Whitton sprung to her assistance. PAMPHLETS, The omnibus driver had luckily pulled his horses up upon perceiving the woman in front of him, so that beyond the bruises caused by her fall, she had escaped injury. The two men assisted the woman—who, though clad in wretched garments, was both young and pretty—to the sidewalk. "Are you hurt, ma'am ?" asked the sol dier messenger. "No, thank you; only a slight bruise," replied the woman, in a low, sweet voice, "I was more frightened than hurt." Ames started with surprise as the woman spoke, and anxiously he looked into her face. "AGNEs RAPLYE !" he cried, in aston ishment. "What ?" exclaimed the woman, amaz ed, "do you know me ?" Only Resting BY AGILE PE NE. HUNTINGDON, PA., NOVEMBER 8, 1871. "Have you forgotten Robert Ames ?" the soldier asked, a slight huskiness per ceptible in his voice. "You Robert Ames ?" the woman ex claimed, as if unable to believe her hearing. "Yes; I am the Robert Ames that you once knew," the soldier said. "I have changed a geat deal since '6l, but you have changed more than I." Sad was the tone of the speaker. "Oh ! I have had so muck trouble," the woman cried, despairingly. "My husband now is lying on his death-bed, I fear; I was seeking some friends for assistance.— Robert!" exclaimed the woman, looking into his face with her soft blue eyes, "can you forget the past and aid me now in my hour of trouble ?" "Willingly !" cried the soldier, impul sively. "What do you wish me to do ?" "Come with me to my wretched home, and see if any thing can be done to aid my husband," the woman replied. "Yes, I'll go at once." "I'll go with you !" exclaimed the ma jor, perceiving clearly that there was some .mystery connected with the woman and the soldier messenger's relations in the past. The woman whom the Red Cap had called Agnes Raplye led the way, while the one-armed soldier and the major fol lowed. "The woman—or girl rather, for she seems to be quite young—is an old acquain tance of yours," the major said. "Yes," replied Ames, "in '62 she al most broke my heart; and in '65 her hus band cost me my right arm. Through her and him my whole life has been ruined." The major stared in astonishment as these strange words fell upon his ear. The woman led the way to a tenement house in Mulberry street. The house was - situaLd in the rear and was one of the worst of its class. The stairs and entry-ways were reeking with filth.— Contagion lurked in the air. The woman led the two to a room at the very top of the house. On a dirty mattress, extended upon the bare floor, lay a man evidently nigh unto death. The bloated and swollen features told that the demon, Rum, had had much to do with the advent of the Dark _Angel, who even now was flapping his wings over the head of the death-stricken man. The major, though used to scenes of carnage, shuddered at this sight. "Is there any hope ?" asked the woman, eagerly. The major shook his head. "I will not attempt to deceive you," he said slowly. "I do not think he will live an hour." "Oh, if he would but speak before he dies," the wife moaned, sadly. "He has some secret upon his mind—something that concerns my happiness, so be said.— He was about to tell me just before this attack." "Then he has not spoken since ?" "No." "Possibly some brandy might revive him so that be can speak. Will you go for some ?" - , 14m ,rorjm. Wet.," n gronnbnotr, quickly she departed. The Red Cap gazed long and earnestly at the face of the helpless man. "You know him ?" asked the major. "Yes ; he was once my rival for the love of the woman who has just left us—Ag nes," the soldier said. "His name is Wil liam Raplye. He and I were boys together —lived in the same street—went to the same school, and then, when we became men, entered the same ship-yard and work ed side by side. He was a handsome fel low—you wouldn't think it to look at him now—but he was alwAys fond of drink and devilment, and I see it has proved the ruin of him; not only his ruin, but hers, too— the girl, major, that I once loved bettor than I did anything else in the world. I'll tell you the whole story—that is, if you'd like to hear it." "Certainly; I feel quite a curiosity. "While Bill Rap lye and I were working together side by side in the same yard, we both got acquainted with Agnes. She was an orphan, without a relative in the world, and worked in a millinery store on Divis ion street. She boarded just two doors from my house. Well, Agnes then—this was in '6O, just before the was—was as pretty a girl as a man would want to look at, and she was as good, too, as she was pretty. Both Bill Raplye and myself fell in love with and courted her at the same time. She liked me the best, although Bill was a much better looking fellow than I. Well, at last Agnes gave me her promise to be my wife. Raplye took the matter in a good-natured way. He said, 'lt's been a fair field—no favor, and the best man has won ; and if she does like you better than she does me, that's no reason why we should be enemies.' And so affairs were when the war broke out. I don't know exactly bow it was, but it seemed to me that 1 ought to shoulder a musket and fight for my government, and so I enlisted. "After I . got to Virginia, I received let ters regularly from Agnes; and if ever a woman's letters were a comfort to a man, then her letters were a comfort to me. They seemed to come right from her heart. Then, all of a sudden, and without any reason, her letters stopped. I wrote three times, but no answer came. Then .we ad vanced, and in a skirmish I was wounded, and was confined to the hospital for about six weeks. After I recovered and came out, I meta friend from New York, and from him I learned that my Agnes had married Bill Raplye. Major, when I heard that news I sat down and cried like a child. I didn't want to live—l wanted to .die. The next fight I went into I fought like a devil; but it wasn't any use; the bullet wasn't cast that was to kill me. "So things went on till '65. I had re enlisted and was a veteran. In the strug gle at Petersburg, after we had made that attack at night, and been repulsed—just as we were falling back, with the Confeds right on the top of us, I stumbled across a wounded man. I picked him up, and, to my astonishment, it was Bill Raplye; just as I recognized him, a squad of the enemy charged upon us ; I saw a sabre uplifted to cut Raplye down ; I threw up my arm, re ceived the sabre-cut upon my wrist—saved the life of Bill Raplye—the man who had married the girl I loved—at the cost of my right arm. In the skirmish that fol lowea—for a party of our boys rallied to my rescue—l lost sight of Raplye, and I have never seen him from that time till my eyes fell upon him to-night." "Ames, many a man has been called a hero for doing less than you have done. History has written the deeds of our great men, but the unwritten deeds of our pri vates shame many on whose shoulders bla zon the General's stars. But have you no idea why this girl betrayed you ?" "None in the least," answered the Red Cap, slowly. "Oh, major I feel that I rove her now, though years have passed, as well as I ever did." A moan from the sick man attracted the attention of the two. They hastened to his side. The glazed eyes of the dying man stared fixedly at the face of the soldier messen ger. "Bob Ames !" murmured the sick man in a husky, broken voice, "I'm glad you're here. I want you to forgive me before I die. I stole the letters you wrote to Ag nes—forged one in your hand, saying that you were tired of her and that she had better look for another lover. Her pride hurt, she accepted me. I stole your wife, and you saved my life. My life, since that time, has been a hell. Say you forgive me —pray for me—l'm a miserable drunken beast. Oh ! mercy—mer—cy !" And with this last despairing cry upon his lips, the guilty soul of Raplye fled to answer to its Judge. Agnes returning, found that her husband was far beyond earthly aid. She could not weep, for his death was freedom to her. She had been the patient, uncomplain ing slave of a drunken husband. But now the fetters were broken—she was free once more. The major drew Agnes to one side. "Here are two fiftydcllar bills," he said, putting the greenbacks into the soldier messenger's hand. "See to the burial of this man, and that this poor girl has a de cent home. Ames, I'm going to lend you five hundred dollars to start you in business. When you get rich, you can repay me; but, don't be in a hurry—take your time about it. For six years I've been looking for the man that saved my life, and now that I've found him, I'm going to show my gratitude if I can." The open-hearted major would not take "no" for an answer, and at last Ames ac cepted the kind offer. Within six months, Agnes became the wife of the one-armed soldier; the old love was still strong within her heart. In a snug little shop on Sixth avenue, Ames does a thriving business, and few would recognize in the happy-looking cou ple the woman who was dragged from be neath the horse's hoofs, or lied Cap, the Soldier Messenger.—Saturday Journal. Puffing br at & Mom A Boy's Advice to Old Men I cannot pick up a newspaper without "Sdvice to Boys" stares me in the face.— Old men write it, I s'pose. Nobody else is capable of giving advice to boys, of course not ! They know all about us, they do, 'cause they have been there. Advice is a good thing to have, no doubt, and no family should be without it, but a feller don't want to be crammed with it all the time to the exclusion of all other diet. Now old men need advice occasionally, but in looking through the papers, I don't see that they get it, so I just thought I would write a little "Advice to Old Men" myself, if I am not presuming too much— as Aunt Chloe says—and I presume I am. -the first place yen old chaps nnwht to get over telling how much smarter boys were when you were boys, than boys are now. You believe it yourself, of course, 'cause you've told it so many tithes, but we boys can't see it. We have a notion that boys are boys, pretty much—except that some are girls—the world over, and one generation of them don't lay over an other generation to any alarming extent. Only let you tell it, and you could out run, out-jump, out-wrestle, sod out any thing else the rising generation of to-day, when you were boys. Grand-father, who has got the gout and five or six different kinds of rheumatism, is always saying that "I would I were a boy again." I would he were too. It' I couldn't beat him run ning, and flop him or the back, side-holt, I don't want a cent, I wouldn't go so far Ls to say, "Parents obey your children," but I would suggest to fathers that they give us a hearing oc casionally on matters in which we are the most interested. Do not make us slide down hill when we want to .skate, and don't try to make preachers of us when we much prefer to run a taw-mill. This is figurative, but I guese you know what I mean. After giving us boys sage advice about our conduct, and how to behave, you old men ought to be careful how you get to relating your boyish scrapes to each other and laughing about them before we are out of earshot. The other day grandfather read me a long lecture about the rights of property, temperance and Sunday break ing. That night an old crony of his'n came to visit him and they had a glass of punch together. They thonAht 1 was asleep on the sofa, and the way they went on about the fun they had when they were boys to gether. They told all about robbing Capt. Lyman's melon patch, and it turned out it was on Sunday night too! When I went to bed they were taking their third glass of punch, and I don't know how many more they had after that. I know grand father's rheumatism was a great deal worse the next day, and he complained about his liver. Old men ought to be careful about taking too much punch. I know old men hate to give in that they can't stand as much as they used to, or as much as young men can. They get mad if a fellow hints that they can't. But what is the use of fooling yourselves We have all got to give out some day, and when a man feels that he is losing grip, why not come down and acknowledge the corn ? Now, in the above remarks I do not mean any disrespect. I like old men in their place, but I don't want much of their advice. Give the boys a chance. How to Keep a Situation Lay it down as a foundation rule, that you will "be found faithful in that which is least." Pick up the loose nails, bits of twine, clean wrapping paper, and put them in their places. Be ready to throw in an odd half hour or hour's time when it will be an accommodation, and don't seem to make a merit of it. Do it heartily. Though not a word be said, be sure your employer will make a note of it. Make yourself in dispensable to him, and he will lose many of the opposite kind before he will part with you. These young men who watch the time to see the very second their working hour is up—who leave, no matter what state the work may be in, at precisely the instant— who are lavish with their employer's goods, will always be first to receive notice that times are dull, and their services are no longer required.— Workingman. "TEA PENen" is said to be a favorite with the Bostonians. The ingredients are one bottle of champagne, one of whiskey, one of rum, two of claret, a lemon, and a table spoonful of black tea. The Cause of Temperance Many a good causehas been injured and retarded by bad men who intruded among its adherents for the purpose of securing selfish objects. In this manner the cause offreedom in this country was fbr years in jured. The old abolition party had among its leaders scores of selfish and impracti cable men, who clung to that organization to satisfy a desire for personal prominence which they could not have otherwise se cured. Just as soon as the Rebublican party took slaveri , by the throat, the origi nal abolitionists faded out of sight or ac tually attempted to embarrass Republicans in their sincere efforts to arrest the spread of slavery. The same impracticable spir it now leads what is called the political temperance party. They are neither fit to lead or willing to follow. They agitate where they have not the ability to sustain themselves, and antagonize men who are disposed to be friends of the principle of temperance, while they despise the deina gow.ery which its heedless and brainless self constituted custodians throw around it. Hence the insignificant vote received by the politico-temperance party, and the the demonstration that no party in this country can live and achieve success on the force of a single idea. At the proper time and in the proper manner, the Re publican party will take hold of the Demon Rum, and do with it what it did with the traitor slavery, wipe it out? That time is steadily approaching. The liquor interest which entails crime of all characteristics and furies on the land must not imagine that because the politico-temperance party failed, the moral force of the disapproval of drunkenness and the traffic in rum has lost any of its power. If they do they are mistaken, and they will realize the fact by beholding at no distant day, the Republican party arrayed against the traf fic in liquor just as it arrayed itself against the barter in human flesh, because the time had come to save the people from pollution and the Government from des truction thereby. It is the mission of the Republican party to correct all wrongs and sustain every right. No third party can live by adopting a specialty in politics. The interests of the country are too varied and complex, to be cared for in detail by seperate political organizations. One de pends upon the other—all must be recip rocal as bound up in the power of right, and but one powerful organization is fitted to stand forth their champions and uphold ers. All this belongs - to the Republican party—and as its judgment for the right dictates so will it dispose of the cause of temperance.—State Journal. A Question of Time, It is said that patience, persevering la bor and indomitable resolve will, in the end, conquer all disadvantages, even though open opposition and secret policy be armed against them. Many maxims sound well, and are generally received without being infallible in application, and this is un doubtedly one of them. We have seen seholavehT-.1.44,- man's most valuable commodity—all em ployed in the production of a work which, owing to various adverse circumstances,was doomed to oblivion. The position of an author, and its feelings in such a ease, can not be appreciated by those who have not trod the wilderness of life devoid of hope. Policy and usurpation, envy and jeal ousy, strike down authors—and other men —even as they do rulers and governments. Nevertheless, there are noble examples of meu sometimes seen, who, conscious of their own strength, fear no rivalry and rise above it. They stoop to no intrigue and dare to be generous. Others—and they are a large majority of mankind—failing in laudable undertakings, keenly feel a sense of injustice, and, wounded and despairing, are almost ready to give up life as a losing game, and, folding their hands, charge on destiny their evil mishap. This is all wrong. None should accept as a final decree the awards of passing time. If the present fail to realize the just frui tion of hopes, however hrmble, and of merit, however high, yet none may look into the hidden secrets of the future. How many inventors whose names stand high as great benefactors of their race struggled against adverse circumstances, and lived and died in poverty and obscurity. Little did Tasso in his dreamy cell think how, after long ages had joined the • march of ages gone before, his luminous genius would flash before the nations of the earth ; how his persecuted name would win the lasting love and admiration of posterity, and how fame would wreath the pallid brow of Italy's greatest Christian poet. The reward of high effort and genius may not always come as we would have it. Incompetent and presuming criticism may smite them with its harpy sting. Yet they will struggle on, grappling with poverty, and writhing under reckless and unde served inflictions, till in the end they tri umph. Immensity of Creation. Some astronomers have computed that there are no less than 75,000,000 suns in in the universe. The fixed stars are all suns, and have, like all suns, numerous planets revolving around them. The solar system, or that to which we belong, has about thirty planets, primary and second ary, belonging to it. The circular field of space which it occupies is in the diameter 3,600,000,000 of miles, and that which it controls is much greater. That sun which is nearest neighbor to ours is called Sirius, distant from our sun 22,000,000,000 of miles. Now if all the fixed stars are as distant from each other as Sirius is from our sun, and if the solar system be the av erage magnitude of all the systems of the 75,000,000 of suns, what imagination can grasp the immensity of creation ? Every sun of the 75,000,000 controls a field of space of about 10,000,000 of miles in diameter. Who can survey a plantation containing 75,000,000 circular fields, each of them 10,000,000 miles in _diameter? Such, however, is one of the plantations of Him who has measured the water in the hollow of his hand, and meet our heaven with a span, and comprehended the dust of_the earth in a measure, weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a bal ance; Him who, sitting upan the orbit of the earth, stretches out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in ! A BOSTON lady thinks she is going to get to heaven on the strength of her well known charity to the poor. She has fre quently been known, without any ostenta tion, to boil a large number of eggs, and when the poor people came to her door distribute to the hungry callers the soup that was left after boiling the eggs. Such acts of charity are unusual in Boston; but that's a little too thin to get to heaven on without stirring in a little thickening. Tit-Bits, Taken on the Fly Fox hunting is now the sport at Toronto. New Yorkers are all expectations about Alexis. Cashmere continues a favorite wool fab ric for costumes. The farms in Ohio are valued at over a billion of dollars. Mrs. Wharton's trial has been postponed until December. There is talk of establishing a match manufactory in Reading. A bear was seen within a mile of the town of Clarion a few days ago. There was a very slight fall of snow in Paducah Ky., on Saturday last. Fashion denotes that gold bracelets here after must. be three inches wide. Lace will be largely used for trimming silk and cashmere suits for the winter. Shark bones are exhumed in Minneso ta, a hundred miles away from any water. An Indiana man has laid in $2O worth of quinine for family use. Shaky family. The Khedive has nothing but his salary to live on, a mere pittance of $30,000,000. Grant is suffering in New England from an enlargement of the lips and fever blis ters. Some Georgia ladies propose to play the piano'for the championship at the State Fair. The offices of eighty-nine literary pe riodicals were burned out by the fire in Chicago. They have "delicious strawberries" and "nice grapes" of the second crop, in Dan ville, Virginia. The Mammoth Cave is for sale. Price $500,000. A pretty large price to pay for a big hole. In Minnesota the prairie fire has burnqd through the earth in some places to the depth of five feet. More insurance was effected in Boston the other day, after 2 o'clock. than on any previous afternoon. While a woman with a sick child in her arms was being tried in an English police court, the child died. The Washington backtnen on Wednes day contributed their entire receipts of that day to the Chicago fund. The Hartford fire insurance companies lost between seven and eight millions of dollars by the Chicago fire. There is an enormous apple crop in the Northeastern States, and a very small one in the Northwestern States. In Boston the papers are beginning to talk of wealthy men who have not con tributed to the Chicago fund. The best mutton is said to come from Rhode Island. The same State raises the .-iwtsit.tHrkevs. %v..... "Oa d"oh- We learn from Georgia exchanLes that good seasons arc prevailing in middle Georgia, and that cotton is opening finely. Let prudence always attend your pleas ' ures; it is the way to enjoy the sweets of them, and not to be afraid of the conso , quences. Among the furniture necessary in the church in Baltimore, where the Episcopal Convention is in session, is said to be 295 spittoons. A grand type-setting tournament, for the championship of Canada, will take place in Montreal on the twenty-first of November. Memphis is the only lower river town which has plenty of coal. 1,250,000 bush els are in store thereabouts, and the people are rejoicing. It is a curious but incontrovertible fact that when a hisute young gentleman pays his addresses to a lady, he invariably be comes hirsuter. The Connecticut temperance men have resolved to hold a State Convention and form an independent political organization for the spring campaign. The Richmond, Va.. papers are mourn ing over the deterioration of circuses and animal shows since the adoption of the con stitutional amendments. A Protestant church is to be erre,ed in Rome. An American company has bought the ground, and intend to build an edi fice of great magnificence. "Flannel Receptions" are in vogue. It is another name for those parties where the young ladies sew an hour for the poor. and then dance three for joy. The Providence Journal says the Chi cago fire has overthrown five of the most respectable insurance companies of Prov idence, including the two oldest. An order has been issued to the firemen of New York, by their chief engineer, pro hibiting them from acting as officers of the election, to take place next month. A Boy of five summers, in New England, recently, while at his devotions, surprised the handy by praying that he might have sixty brothers and one hundred sisters. A "city" out in Nevada, called Bob- Tailed Gulch," has seven dwelling houses and thirty seven saloons. There is talk of tearing down some of the houses to make more room. A correspondent, writing of the celebra tion at Bangor in honor of the opening of the railway at St. John, says that Presi dent Grant, during his reception, kissed six hundred pretty girls. A gold watch chain and pin have peen presented to Miss Mary Nichols, of Plais tow, Mass, the watch bearing an inscrption declaring them to be presented because she is a "model Christian woman." An editor ofa Chicago paper has received several poetical effusions suggested by the late disaster, but he declines them all on the ground that it is wasteful to print any thing which requires every line with a cap ital, when capital is as scarce as it is now in Chicago. Ida Lewis is married, and her legal name is now Wilson, but she still uses her maiden name. She is still living at Lime Rock, where she made her reputation. with her mother, who is in ill health and of whom she is very fond. The total num ber of lives saved by Ida Lewis is eleven. The Kennebec ice harvest of last winter was the largest ever gathered, the total product being not less than 300,000 tons. But very little of the "cold comfort" has been disposed of during the present season and the greater portion of the stock will be held over until another year. NO. 44. Zta pine To Be a Christian , To be a honey bee means more than to be crowded into some well filled hive, and live from the hard toils of others. It means to take an empty hive and fill it full, and then fill all the extra boxes which may be given. It means toil in the morn ing dew, the hot sun at noon, and the damps of evening—when the wind blows and the dust fitez. Toil while there is honey to be gathered and cells to be made or fitted. To be a Christian does not mean a well-chosen church relation, with rer quisites of wealth to keep us there. Not simply to restrain our hands from wicked deeds, and occasionally the ex changes of evil thoughts from our hearts. However much negative good there may be in the absence of evil, this is not a Christian life. To be a farmer means more than to sit at a wellndled board and eat and drink in the bosom of his family. There are seeds to be sown and weeds -to be pulled. There are vines to be trained and fruit to be gathered. There is toil, and dust, and sweat, between the table of the farmer and the garner of his grain. It is more to be a merchant than to receive bills of lading and compliments for the stocks. There are sales to be made and bills to be paid. There are hours of anx ious toil between the purchase and the Christian life has its table of plenty, but it has its field of briars too. Seeds must be sown, and weeds pulled in this field; and Christian men, women and children, and not angels, must do it. It would be just as reasonable to expect an gels to do our field or kitchen work, as to do our Christian work. We might as well contract our breathing to another, and ex pect to live by their' effort as to expect another to do our Christian work. There are rich bills of lading coming in for the Christian with every incoming toil of thought, and he is happy, and rich, and full. But there are taxes to be paid, ex changes to be made, and statements of stewardship to be rendered. A Christian life is one steady effort to do, and dare, and die, if need be for the Master. Un finishedwork lies at his door with every sitting down. The burden is always on his heart. "I have a baptism to be bap tised with, and how am 1 strengthened till it be accomplished." Yet this burden is not painful to him who bears. He lives with a sweet approral of a life of useful ness. To be a Christian does not mean the furthest emigration from earth and its so ciety. But a busy, pure life just where you arc. It does not imply any change in you which should demand an immediate translation; but simply a change in hu man quality from bad to good, and does not contemplate your removal until the work is done where you arc. To be a Christian does not imply that some one great act must redeem the past, and then pension us forever. We may nut have many great deeds before we were Christians, but a multitudinous host of little oncs. These little, wicked ones made up our lives then, and may have limited our capabilities for greater deeds. . . To be a Christian s to be Christ-like. There are busy scenes to be visited, where Christian life must not be bartered. There are hungry ones to feed, who won't have the broken bread friim our hands. There are mourning ones waiting for the tear drop from our eye, and waiting for words of comfort from our lips. There are publi cans to be mingled with, and instructed in the way of life. Wicked, but not heart less, great deep souls have they, but oh, how empty of the water of life. Thirsty ones by the well curbs, who must be taught that Samaria be saved. Fallen ones, con demned by others, standing by us, waiting words of kindness—and to have their faults written in•the sands of memory, and not in glaring lines upon the rocks. There may be a cross at the foot of some object somewhere for us, but if there be, there is a resurrection morning three days beyond —and there is a home and a mansion in that "sweet by-and-by." No weary toil, "for they rest from their labors" "over • there." No grief or sorrow, for "Earth haw no POrrOVie heaven cannot heal, - It pays to be a Christian.—Adrance. On the Down-Grade An old California stage-driver was on his death-bed. His eyes were closed. his hands were cold. He was rapidly reach ing the "station" at the end of his "run" of life. A friend standing by observed that the dying man was moving his right foot with a sort of convulsive jerk, and said to him : "What's the matter?" The dying stage-driver replied : "I'm on the down grade, and I can't reach the brake." 1. Death comes to all. No will-power of man can resist it. After the most faith ful effort to reach the heights of middle life; after the steadiest pressure on the "brakes" to ease the descent to death, there comes a moment when the foot re fuses to obey the will, when the "brake" slips from our cold, and we glide down to our doom of death. This is invarible and unavoidable. 2. Tho tendency of sin is downward. It sweeps the soul on a swift current. Sin runs on a down grade all the way. The descent may be slow, and at first impercep tible, but it is sure, and at every step the downward inclination increases and the movement becomes more rapid. It is very deceptive, often delightful, but unarrested it is camning. How terrible to find one's self on the "downward grade" at the end of life! 3. The hold upon the "brake" lost ! How terrible ! The frantic steeds press on. The unlightened load pushes upon them. The deep chasm now yawns on this side, and now on that. The stage reels. The passengers shriek out in agony of fear and then of despair. Convulsively the driver reaches after the lost brake. It is in vain. Too late! The speed of this chariot of death cannot ba checked. The ruin is ir retrievable. Habit is master now. Pas sion is master now. The will is demoral ized. Hope is gone. Strength is gone. Time wasted, returns no more. Down. down, down ! A cry ! A leap ! Darkness! Silence !—Sunday School Journal. MILD persuasion is the only means of reaching a man's inner self. "Round came the north wind and swept down upon the rosebud, saying: 'Give me a kiss.' But the rosebud answered 'No !' Round came the east wind and swept down upon the rosebud, saying: 'Give me a kiss.' But the rosebud answered •No !' Then the south wind, blowing mildly and lovingly, and the rosebud kissed it."—Beeclmer. CIVILIZATION is man's stru»ale upward ; in which millions are trampled to death that thousands may mount on their bodies.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers