The Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1871-1904, November 22, 1871, Image 1

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    VOL. 46
.e" Huntingdon Journal.
on the Corner of Bath and Washington streets.
ie lluttriNcool JOURNAL is published every
nudity, by J. It. I/imam:Row and J. A. Nese,
r the firm name of J. It. Duttaortnow a; Co., at
per annum, Ix ADVANCE, or $2,50 if not paid
six months from date of subscription, and
not paid within the year.
paper discontinued, unless at the option of
,üblishers, until all arrearages are paid.
WERTISEMENTS will be inserted at Tits
•s per line for each of the first four insertions,
FIVE CENTS per line for each subsequent inser
less than three months. . .
.--..--- ---___.
gular monthly and yearly advertisements will
sorted at the following rates :
3mi 6m 9m i 1 y 3m
7 : 0 40 —
2 —0, 5 OC I C6O 111 - 10
4 001 E 0040 00112 00" 2400
600 10 03'14 00,1600 a 34 001
8 00,140) 20 00,20 00
9 50'10 04 , 25 00!33 00 1 col 36 00
18 - 04 27
ecial notices will bo inserted at TWELVE AND
Lir CENTS per line, and local and editorial no
at FIFTEEN CENTS per line.
i Resolutions of Associations, Communications
sited or individual interest, and notices of Mar
s and Deaths, exceeding five lines, will be
;ed TON CENTS per line.
gal and other notices will be charged to the
r having them inserted.
,vertising Agents must find their commission
de e these figures.
advertising accounts are due and collectable
the advertisement is once inserted.
B PRINTING of every kind, in Plain and
y Colors, done with neatness and dispatch.-
1-bills, Blanks, Cards. Pamphlets, to., of every
ty and style, printed at the shortest notice,
every thing in the Printing line will be came
-1 the 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
:essrs. Woods & Williamson. [apl2,ll.
respectfully offers his professional services
o citizens of Huntingdon and vicinity.
ice removed to No. 6181 Hill street, (Sutra's
DING.) [apr.s,7l-Iy.
I R. J. C. FLEMMING respectfully
offers his professional services to the citizens
antingdon and vicinity. Office second floor of
,ingham's building, on corner of 4th and Bill
4. may 24.
I R. D. P. MILLER, Office on Hill
street, in the room formerly occupied by
*ohn M'Culloch, Huntingdon, Pa., would res
ally offer his professional services to the citi
of Huntingdon and vicinity. Dan. 4,71.
I R. A. B. BRUMBAUGH, offers his
professional services to the community.
ice, No. 523 Washington street, one door east
e Catholio Parsonage. Dan. 4,71.
Office re
ig, Hill street
J. GREENE, Dentist.
• moved to Leister's new buildin
. L. ROBB, Dentist, office in S. T.
• BrGwn's new building, No. 520, Hill St.,
tingdon, Pa. [ap12,71.
GLAZIER, Notary Public, corner
-• of Washington and Smith streets, Min
ion, Pa. [jan.l2'7l.
C. MADDEN, Attorney-at-Law.
-• Office, No. —, 11111 street, liuntingdon,
. Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Office, Hill street,
doors west of Smith. (jan.4'7l.
It. PATTON, Druggist and Apoth
scary, opposite the Exchange Hotel, Han
lon, Pa. Prescriptions accurately compounded.
Liquors fur Medicinal purposes. [n0v.23;70.
HALL MUSSER, Attorney-at-Law,
o No. 319 Hill street. Dan. 4,71.
R. DURBORROW, attorney-at
• Lair, Huntingdon, Pa., will practice in the
ral Courts of Huntingdon county. Particular
scion given to the settlement of estates of dece-
Moe in Ike JOURNAL Building. [feb.l,'7l
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 ev
kind, in any part of the United States. Send
t oiroular. [jan.4'7l.
W. MATTERN, Attorney-at-Law
• and General Claim Agent, Huntingdon, Pa.,
tiers' claims against the Government for back
, bounty, widows' and invalid pensions attend
o with great care and promptness
(Soo on Hill street.
ALLEN LOVELL, Attorney-at
• Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
m to COLLECTIONS of all kinds; to the settle-
Lt of Estates, &c.; and all other Legal Business
muted with fidelity and dispatch.
Vir- Office in room lately occupied by R. Milton
er, Esq. [jan.4;7l.
'o. 228 Hill Street,
Tril 5, '7l-Iy.
TILES ZENTMYER, Attorney-at-
Law,-A- Huntingdon, Pa., will attend promptly
.11 legal business. Mee in Cunningham's new
lding. Lian.4,7l.
) M. 141, S. LYTLE, Attorneys-
• at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa., ,
will attend to
kinds of legal business entrusted to their care.
'Mee on the south side of Hill street, fourth door
it of Smith. [jan.4,'7l.
? A. ORBISON, Attorney-at-Law,
II , • Office, 321 Hill street, Huntingdon, Pa.
torneye-at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Pensions,
1 all claims of soldiers and soldiers' heirs against
Government will be promptly prosecuted.
)ffioo on Hill street. [jan.4,'7l.
1 W. MYTON, Attorney-at-Law, Hun
- • tingdon, Pa. 011ie with J. Sewell Stewart,
q. [jan.4,'7l.
at-Law, Huntingdon, Pa. Special attention
Fen to collection; and all other legal business
ended to with care and promptness. Office, No.
Hill street. [apl9,'7l.
?XCHAN JOHN 8. GE HOTE MILL L, Huntingdon,
- 4 Pa. ER, Propietor.
January 4, 1871.
pp OBT. KING, Merchant Taylor, 412
Lib Washington street, Huntingdon, Pa., a lib
al of patronage respectfully solicited.
April 12, 1871.
%rel., of Locomotive and Stationary Boilers, Tanks,
ipes, Filling-Barrows for Furnaces, and Sheet
-on Work of every description. Works on Logan
reet, Lewistown, Pa.
AU orders prmnntly attended to. Repairing
one at short notioa: [Apr 5,'71,1y.*
r rhe I luntingdon Journal.
New Advertisements.
sot 100
Office corner of Washington and Bath Sts.,
$2.00 per annum in advance. $2 50
within six months. $3.00 if not
paid within the year.
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
ale Poo' fflowtr.
The True Women,
Her name shines not in bannered field,
Where Right and Wrong so boldly war;
Nor rings her voice' in any cause
Which men and women battle for ;
Yet in her presence, subtle sweet,
Yon long to knee and kiss her feet.
No wonderous romance wreathes her life ;
Nor bath she led a martyr train ;
Nor beautiful nor rich is she,
But poor—and some would call her plain;
Yet in your two dear eyes you see
A beauty shining constantly.
No silken robe enfolds her form
No dainty leisure bath her hands;
Her jewels are a simple ring;
A ribbon binds her hairs' smooth bands;
Yet in her garment's simple grace
Her soul's regality you trace.
No gift bath she to shake and thrill I
A — thankless world with warbled songs ;
And art that wakes the ivory keys
To other hands than hers belongs ;
Yet in her words of tender cheer
A richer music charms the ear.
She walks in humble ways of life
Thatlead at times thro' gloom and shade
And cares and crosses, not a few
Are on her patient shoulders laid,
Yet smiles and drinks each bitter cup,
And keeps her brave eyes lifted up.
And homely ways she wreathes with grace,
Harsh duty turns to loving zest;
And cheery hope and steadfast will
Are at her side, in work and rest;
Yet never dreams slip you can spy
The angel looking from her eye I
Zht stortZtittr.
A Room of Bottle Hill.
Tax stranger who now passes through
Bottle Hill will find little there to preposs
es him in its favor as a place of residence.
Of the many buildings which it boasted in
the days of its prosperity, only two remain,
and they are in a pitiably decayed and
rickety condition. Three or four woe-be
gone-looking Celestials inhabit the larger
of the two buildings; the other is the ex
clusive habitation of an honest Teuton,
who answers only to the appellation of
Jake. Once he called himself Jake Shel
back, but it has been so long since he has
heard the last title employed that he has
almost i)rgotten that he ever owned it.
'On the rude porch in front of either of
these dwellings may be seen a row of gum
boots, long ago superanuated and dismiss
ed from service. On a warm day, at suit
able hours, the representatives of China
and Germany appear on these porches to
sun themselves and to meditate, it is pre
sumed, on the uncertainty of human affairs.
But Bottle Hill presented quite a dif
ferent appearance twenty years ago. Then
it was in the full tide of prosperity. Its
one long street was lined with buildincrs,
in which nearly every imaginable kind of
business was carried on with vigor and
success. Its mines were among the moun
tains; it called itself a town, and fancied
it might some day become a city.
At the time mentioned in the beginning
of the last paragraph, the Bottle Hines,
though proud of themselves and their town
in every way, were more than any thing
else proud of the presence in their midst of
Ruth Horton, the daughter of the rough
Missouri landlord of the Bottle Hill Hotel.
Nor is this much to be wondered at, con
sidering how very scarce women were just
then in that portion of the mines, and con
sidering also that it would be a bard mat
ter even now to find another girl in the
State as lovely and loveable as was Ruth,
the bard-featured Missourian's only daugh
Her beauty was not of the dazzling kind.
She was neither a regal brunette nor a
stately blonde, but a slight, gracefully
formed girl with faintly flushed cheeks,
blue eyes, and wavy brown hair that gen
erally fell clustering around her neck and
shoulders. Nature had given to her gen
tleness, innocence and beauty of such a
sort that one could only compare her to a
wild mountain rose ; and her life should
have been one of equal quietude and se
clusion, but fate seemed to have willed
otherwise in placing her among the wild
scenes and rude associations of the mines.
It was strange that the union of two
persons like her father and mother, equally
coarse in body and mind, should have pro
duced a being so lovely in person, and so
pure, refined and gentle in thought and
acdon. Yet it was so—one of the myste
ries in which Nature seemingly delights.
Ruth's father, Old Bob—the boys around
Bottle Hill never dreamed of designating
him any other way—had not failed to take
into consideration Ruth and her lovely
face when he debated within himself the
propriety of engaging in the hotel busi
ness. Nor did he over-estimate the advan
tage to be derived from her presence. Her
fame went far and wide through the mines,
and many a rough, red-shirted, and fierce
ly be-whiskered miner renounced his bach
elor life and the homely comforts which
his cabin afforded, that he might occasion
ally see and hear one whose presence re
minded him of the better and brighter
days of his own life. Many a one, too,
far away from the Hill heard of Ruth, and
made a toilsome day's journey over rough
mountain-trail merely to see once more the
face of a young and beautiful woman.—
Thus his daughter's presence was a mine
of wealth to Old Bob.
Though there was probably not one of
the seven or eight hundred stalwart miners
in and around the Hill who did not intense
ly admire Ruth, there were few who expe
rienced any warmer feeling. Rude and
uncultured as many of them were, they
had discernment enough to see that she
was a being different, in every respect,
from themselves. whose love none of them
could ever hope to win.
So thought the most of them ; but there
were a few exceptions to the general rule,
and two individuals were especially promi
nent as suitors for her hand.
It was a still, pleasant evening in Au
gust. The sun had gone down behind the
snow-clad summit peaks, and only the chan
ging hues along the western sky bore wit
ness to his power. The canons and ravines
were already thickly curtained with shad
ows ; but the crest of each ridge and the
slopes of each distant peak were distinctly
visible in the strong though waning light.
Harry Vert, walking rapidly along the
trail that led from his claim to Bottle Hill,
thought he had never witnessed a more
beautiful sight. Crossing the head of a
little hollow, where a cool spring broke
forth and gurgled through willows and al
ders on its downward course, he paused for
a moment and looked around at the fast
fading scene. A moment spent in this
contemplation, and he stepped forward
again, but started back as he passed around
the clamp of bushes a few steps beyond.
Not a start of fear, however ; rather one
of surprise and pleasure ; for the vision
before him was more calculated to inspire
the latter emotion than the former. Only
a slight, graceful form leaning against the
trunk of a friendly yew, with a pair of
white, rounded arms up-raised to pull down
the berry-laden boughs, till the red berries
were thickly mingled with the brown, wa
vy hair, and dark green leaves half hid the
dreamy blue eyes and the sweet pensive
"Harp , !"
Not a word more, just then, and perhaps
there was no need for words. The white
hands are no longer at liberty to toy with
boys, and the blue eyes timidly upraised,
meet the impassioned glance of a pair of
much darker ones The lonely owl, hoot
ing solemnly from yonder pine, evidently
sees much that he disapproves of, for his
voicings assume a rebuking tone, and so
loud withal that all the slumbering echoes
on the hill-side are startled into activity.
At last the silence is broken.
"How came you here, Ruth ? I didnot
expect to meet you."
"I know you did not, for I have never
been this far up the trail before; but I
wanted to see you and speak to you quite
A startled expression stole into the blue
eyes as she spoke, and her face grew paler.
"What is the matter, Ruth ? Has any
thing occurred to disturb you ?"
"Harry, you must give me up."
"Give you up ! Not till I give up my
life as well."
"You don't know the full meaning of
your words now; but I am afraid you will.
Big Tom-"
"What of him?"
"He was in to see fatheir this afternoon,
and they had a long talk together, all about
me. You know that Big Tom; that he
loves me, or says he does; and, 0, Harry!
I am ashamed to think of it, but father
favors him, and has done so for a long
"He shall never marry you. Have no
fear, Ruth ; I will protect you."
"I know you would with your life, Har
ry ; but he is a desperado and a murderer.
He has already killed three men in the
mines, and cares nothing for blood. Every
one on the Hill fears him. He could not
force me to marry him, but it is nearly the
same thing, for he has sworn to marry me,
and he will kill father if he does not con
sent, and you, if you stand in his way."
"Better that we should both perish than
that you should become the wife of such a
man. But come, Ruth, it is nearly dark,
and we must walk toward the Hill. We
can talk further of this matter as we go.
Be true to yourself and to me, and all may
yet be well."
For a few seconds only he retained her
in his embrace, pressing reassuring kisses
upon her pale lips, and whispering words
of encouragement and consolation. Then
they hastened on through the fast falling
shadows along the narrow winding trail.
An hour later, Ruth, paler than ever,
and trembling with apprehension, stood in
the presence of Big Tom. lie was worthy
of his name; a florid-faced, red-bearded
giant, six feet six inches in his stockings,
and as muscular, yet quick of movement,
as any gladiator may have been in the good
old times. In the red sash, which he never
failed to wear.around his waist, the handles
of both revolver and bowie knife were
plainly visible. It was evident that he was
in no mood to be trifled with. There was a
fierce light in his eyes, and his face looked
flushed and passionate.
He had demanded the interview, and
Ruth was not able to avoid it. It was
sooner than she had wished, but she saw
no other alternative than to refuse him at
once, let the consequences be what they
Her father, under the mingled influence
of avarice and fear—for Big Tom had ap
pealed to both—had been almost agonized
in his entreaties to her to yield, and save
himself as well as Vert from the fate which
he said was sure to await whoever crossed
the path of Big Tons. But the last words
of Harry had prevailed, and she resolved
to dare the worst.
Big Tom was not the man to mince mat
ters, so he came to the point at once.
"'Taint no use talkin' spoony to you
girl; and I'm not one of the smooth
tongued kind myself. We understand one
another well enough, though. I love you,
and I intend to marry you. Old Bob says
I can have Sou, and I s'pose he ought to
know. If you want to marry me I'll make
you a good husband. You'll never regret
it. I've come here to-night for your final
answer; remember that life and death
hangs on what you say, girl."
It was a trying moment to Ruth. Three
or four times she essayed to speak before
she was able to utter the simple words :
"No ! I can never marry you !"
The leaning, motionless giant started
into furious life at once. The sinewy arms
came down from their position on the mas
sive chest, and her aised one hand fiercely
above his head as he strode toward her.
"That'll do !" I've seen enough of wo
men to know when one means what she
says, and that's your fix now. You hate
me, and love Vert. Don't try to deny it.
I saw you in his arms when you met to
night on the trail. I might have killed
him then, but I thought you would marry
me when you knew what I had sworn to do
if you didn't. I didn't expect to be refused
this time; but it makes me clear in my
mind about him."
He brought his hand down from above
his head, and held it before her eyes.
"Do you see that hand, girl 1 They say
around here there's plenty of blood on it
already; but when you see it again, re
member there's blood on it that you helped
to put there."
"Spare him ! spare him!"
"Never ! Yon could have saved him
only by marrying me. I've got an old
grudge against him that helps to swell the
devil that's rising in my heart ag'in him.
Never mind crying now : you'll want all
your tears when you see him to-morrow."
With this parting taunt the infuriated
deperado flung away her beseeching hands
and rushed from the room. She hastened
to the window and looked out. Presently
she saw him pass, not in the direction of
the noisy gambling saloons where he night
ly resorted, but away from the town out
into the obscurity of the forest.
The thought flashed into her mind that
he was going in search of his rival. Harry
lived in a cabin near his claim, at a dis
tance of more than a mile from the Hill.
She knew that Big Tom would find him
there, for he had told her that he intended
returning home at an early hour. Though
he expected to meet Big Tom and fight for
his life, neither himself or Ruth had
dreamed that the issue would be forced be
fore at least another day had elapsed.
Harry knowing nothing of the interview
which had just taken place, Big Tom would
be likely to find him unprepared, and then
his fate would be certain. A few seconds
sufficed for these reflections. Only mur
muring to herself, "I must save him," she
passed out at the open door and walked
swiftly toward the forest.
_ _ _
Ruth knew but little afterward of the
manner in which she found her way that
night; but find it she did, until at last,
panting and trembling with mingled fear
and joy, she crossed a deep, busby ravine,
and saw at a little distance a light shining
from the window of a cabin, which she
knew was Harry's. Something rustled for
a moment in the bushes, and then she
caught a glimpse of some indistinct, dark
moving form on the other side of the ra
vine. Fear lent wings to her feet, and in
a moment more she was in Harry's arms,
with just strength enough to exclaim, "Be
ware of Big Tom; he is coming !" before
she closed her eyes in a swoon.
, Pistol in hand, Harry watched over her
until she returned to consciousness, and
explained her sudden appearance. Still no
one came. Hour after hour passed away,
and still they sat clasped in each other's
arms, watching, waiting, and hoping that
the words of tenderness and love they then
whispered might not be the last they should
ever speak. Not long after, exhausted nature
gave way, and Ruth, leaning her head on
his breast, slept like a weary child; Harry
clasping her to his bosom with one hand,
while the other never left the handle of
his revolver, and awaited the approach of
one whose vindictive and relentness spirit
made him more to be feared than the sav
age denizen of the forest. But the night
passed away, and the gray light of morning
stole over the hills; and still there were
no signs of Big Tom.
At last, when the sun had risen high
enough to peer through the pines on the
eastern side of the ridge, a man came into
view whose long and rapid strides soon
brought him to the door of the cabin. But
it was not Big Tom—only Spanish Joe,
who, with a face stamped with horror, and
so eager to deliver some great news, that
be failed to notice the presence of Ruth,
and cried out :
"Big Tom is lying dead down there in
the trail—torn nearly to pieces by a grizzly!"
It was even so. The same mysterious
fate which bad guided Ruth in safety past
the shaggy monster had brought Big Tom
in direct contact with him. From the
point where Rath, like one in a frightful
dream, she saw and knew what it was in
the trail along which she had just passed,
the grizzly proceeded some hundred yards
before Big Tom encountered him. In his
blind haste for revenge, through the dark
ness of the night, the man had stumbled
over the scarcely more savage brute, and a
desperate conflict ensued. Big Tom, as
Spanish Joe said, was torn nearly to pieces,
but he did not die unavenged. His revol
ver and bowie knife did good work, though
not speedily enough to save his own life,
and the grizzly was found dead only a few
hundred yards from the scene of the strag
Ruth and Harry was married a few
weeks afterward, and in a few months more
11 , sold his claim and removed to the East,
where he still lives with the wife of whom
he has never ceased to be prond since that
eventful night.
The last time / saw Big Tom's grave it
was nearly hidden from view by ranh veg
etation. All who knew his story have left
the vicinity, and not even the rudest head
board is there to tell the stranger who it is
that slumbers there forgotten and alone.
padiug for Olt illion.
An Editor in Heaven.
Apropos to an article going the rounds
under the above beading, an exchange
presents the following legend :
Once upon a time after the demise of
one of the corps editorial, he presented
himself at the gate of the Golden city,
and requested admission. The door keeper
asked him what had been his occupation
while on terra firma t He replied he had
been an editor.
"Well," said the watchman, "we have
a crowd of your kind here now, and they
all came in as 'dead heads.' If you pay
your passage you can come is ; if not, you
must place yourself under the control of
a personage you ruled tyranically down
below, meaning the devil.
Not having the wherewith to go in, our
brother of the quill and scissors posted off,
and presented himself at the entrance of
Clootie's dark domains. A very dark
complexioned gentlemen stood sentry, and
asked in a gruff voice, 'who comes?'
"An humble disciple of Faust," was the
calm reply.
"Then hold on, you can't be admitted,"
exclaimed the gentleman in black evincing
considerable agitation, and fiercely scowl
ing upon him.
"Why not?" demanded the typo, who
begot to get some huffish, and looked
around for a 'sheep's foot' with which to
force an entrance.
"Well, sir," replied his sable majesty, we
let one of your profession in here many
years ago, and he kept up a continual row
with his former delinquent subscribers,.
and we have more of that class here than
any other, we have passed a law prohibit
ing the admission of any editors, only
those who have advanced our interest in
their papers on earth, and even those we
keep in a separate room by themselves.
Yon have published many things opeoating
against us, and always blamed the devil
with everything that went wrong, so you
cannot come in. We enforce this law with
out respect to persons, for our own peace
and safety. Now travel !
Casting a droll tear on the outside sentinel
our typographical friend started again, de
termined to get above. This time he took
with him an old file of paper, and present
ing it to the guardiansof the celestial city,
requested that it might be carefully examin
ed, and they could see whether he was en
titled to a free ticket. In due course of time
the conductor came along and took him in
telling him that he had been a martyr to
the cause of human improvement, and
that resolutions had been passed to admit
all members of the art perservative who
had abused the 'devil,' all their future
punishment is commuted. He further
stated that not one delinquent newspaper
subscriber could be found in Heaven.
POWER OF THE PRESS.—I love to hear
the rumbling of the steam power press
better than the roar of artillery. It is si
lently attacking and vanquishing the Ma
lakoifs of vice and the Redans of evil ; and
its parallels and approaches cannot be re
sisted. I like the click of the type in the
composing stick of the compositor, better
than the click of the musket in the hand
of the soldier. It bears a leaden messen
ger of deadlier power, of sublimer force,
and of a surer aim, which will hit its mark,
though it is a thousand years ahead !—Cha
riht Unmtu
The Elevation of Women
Although we are not among the num
ber of those who are anxious to confer up
on women the usual political rights and
privileges wielded by men, we are of the
opinion that the agitation in favor of the
elevation of the sex will do good in ob
taining for them a better reward for the
work they do, and in opening to them
many pursuits in life which have been for
ages closed against them.. Indeed, the
movement in that way has already made
very great progress, and we have women
lecturers, artists, desig ners , sculptors, phy
sicians and directors o public institutions,
as well as Postmasters, Treasury clerks,
&c. In London, several ladies have been
elected members of the new School Board.
and a general effort has been made in many
places to enlarge the sphere of female use
fulness, by rendering them eligible as
school directors and controllers. As they
make admirable teachers of the public
schools we can see no earthly reason why
they would not answer just as well as di
rectors and controllers of the same schools.
Indeed we think that if we had a few en
lightened, high-minded ladies of this city
in the school boards there would be a de
cided improvement in the course of man
agement. There would be less favoritism
in the selection of female teachers. There
would be less jobbing in the purchase of
property and giving out of contracts, and
the accounts would be rather more narrow
ly watched.
When this matter was pending at the
last session of the legislature, we were in
hypes that the change would be adopted.
We fancy the influences brought to bear
against the measure were rather personal
than partisan. But it seems rather odd
that we should be behind England in a
reform of this kind. Women are prop
erty owners, taxpayers, beads of families,
managers of business, and if the fathers
are interested in the education of their
children, most assuredly the mothers are
equally so. And if a childless man can be a
good school director, why cannot a child
less woman ?
It is worthy of notice that the trade
conventions are gradually recognizing the
equality of the rights of females with the
male operatives. In the line of author
ship the women have become so numerous by
prolific as to threaten to monopolize cer
tain walks of literature. In London and
Paris the female painters and sculptors
are quite numerous and conspicuous. In
our own country we have also produced a
female astronomer.
In the great walks of commerce and
finance they venture rather slowly and
timidly, mainly as some critics allege, be
cause the structure of their minds is not
favorable to laborious and long-continued
application and mathematical accuracy in
details. But this, though true to a great
degree, arises only from the absence of
responsibility; and in all cases where
women are made responsible in business
for any length of time they develope the
same faculties as the men, though not the
same high strung regard for principles.
Philadelphia, from her Quaker origin, con
tains more friends of the woman's lights
movement than can be found elsewhere,
bet they take a practical view of affairs,
and seek to provide employment for women
rather than to contend for offices and suf
frage for them. It is somewhat odd to
see the extent to which New England and
New York are carrying this movement,
which is wholly of Quaker origin, like the
opposition to slavery. But all these efforts
make a great deal more noise there than
here. No one to look superficially at New
England and Pennsylvania would think
that the woman's elevation movement orig
inated here, and that we have had a Wo
man's Medical College for a whole gen
eration past, that we have a Woman's Hos
pital, a female school of design, a working
woman's boarding-house, and that a ma
jority of our public charities are managed
chiefly by women.—Exchange.
To Her Who will Understand It
"Send me a word to comfort me for
the death of my baby," writes a broken
hearted mother to me.
My dear friend, I might tell you that
there are thousands of childless mothers
all over the land, who, like you, are
looking for comfort here and . there, and
find none; but that would not help you.
I might tell you, too, that if you knew all
the sorrowful histories that have been
told me by 'tongue and pen, for many years,
you would have been glad that your baby
is gone where there is "no more pain ;
but that would not cause you to shed one
tear the less, or keep yuu from feeling
that your sorrow was harder to bear than
theirs. I could tell you that God is good
even in this affliction, but your vision is
so dimmed that time only can enable you
to see it. It is because I know that nature
must have its way, or you could not live and
bear it, that I can only say to you now, I
am so sorry for you. I know just now
you go about, listening for the little appeal
ing cry that you may nevermore hear ;
touching listlessly the little useless clothes
that you fashioned, with your heart so full
of love and hope. I too have done all this.
I have lain with my cheek close to the
grass upon my baby's grave, lest she should
be lonely without me, though I knew she
was not there. And yet I have tried to
thank Him who took her so early, that the
storms of life which afterwards overtook
me, did not burst over her little head.
So, as I say, I shall not reason with you now
for that were worse than useless. I only
reach out my woman's hand, and clasp
yours in sympathy, although we never
may meet in this world.
But oue thing I know, that in the other
world your baby and mine will know us
—their mothers, else God were not God.
By the strong love that came with them,
this must be ; we could not. be so cruelly
mocked if this were to be the end.
Now, do not sit down and brood over
your grief, if you can help it. Do not
close your blinds and shut out the sunshine.
Let it warm you, though your baby is
cold. You would rather have felt its little
warm clasp even for that brief time, than
not to have known the bliss of motherhood,
would you not? Well, then, warm your
poor heart with that bit of comfort. Now
there is it ladder reaching up to Heaven,
only seen by you, only used by you.
Heaven is not now, to you, the misty land
it used to be. You see it clearly. By and
by you will here its music, and one little
voice your mother's ear will detect; and
none who see the peace which illuminates
your face will know wherefore, save "Him
who doeth all things well." And so,
with my love, I leave you.
WooL delainee are popular.
Vibe rolltvg' Plage.
Mixed Up
I've wandered through the village, Tom,
Along with Anna Lee,
To listen to the mocking bird,
In the cottage by the sea.
Reid's bay mare can't be heat
While coming through the rye;
Let me kiss him for his mother,
Says the spider to the fly.
The colored girls and poor old Ned,
Now swell our National song,
I'd offer thee this hand of mine—
But take your time Miss Long.
I'm lonely since my mother died—
Susanna don't you cry;
We're all nodding through the world,
Then root hog, or die.
Hark ! I hear the angel singing,
Ali daddy, he's struck ile,—
We're coming Farther Abraham,
Along with Annie Lyle.
The song my mother used to sing,
The wearing of the green—
The girl I left behind me,
To-day is sweet sixteen.
A Racy Examination
The following racy examination of can
didates for admission to the bar is taken
from the Western Law Journal, and is de
cidedly a good hit:
The examination commenced with,
"Do you smoke, sir ?"
"I do, sir."
"Have you a spare cigar ?"
. .
"Yes, sir ;" (extending a short six.)
"Now, sir, what is the first duty of a
lawyer ?"..
':To collect fees."
"Right. What is the second ?"
"To increase the number of his clients."
"When does the position towards your
client change ?"
"When making out a bill of costs."
"We then copy the antagonistic position
—I assume the plaintiff and he becomes
"A suit decided, how do you stand with
the lawyer conducting the other bill ?"
"Cheek by jowl."
. .
"Enough, sir; you promise to become an
ornament to your profession, and I wish
you success. Now are you aware of the
duty you owe me ?"
"Describe it."
"It is to invite you to drink."
"But suppose I decline ?"
(Candide, scratching his head.)
"There is no instance of the kind on re
cord in the hooks. I cannot answer the
"You are right; and the confidence with
which you wake the assertion shows that
you have read law attentively. Let's take
a drink, and I will sign your certificate."
Taming of the Bridegroom
Mr. Spillman had just married a second
wife. On the day after the wedding Mr.
S. remarked :
"T intend, Tires gpillrnan, to enlarge ray
"You mean our dairy, my dear," replied
Mrs Spillman.
"No," quoth Mr. Spillman, "I intend to
enlarge my dairy."
"Say our dairy," Mr. Spillman."
"No, my dairy."
`Say our dairy, say our—," screamed
she, seizing the poker.
"My dairy ! my dairy !" yelled the hus
"Our dairy ! our dairy ! screeched the
wife, emphasizing each word with a blow
on the back of her cringing spouse.
Mr. Spillman retreated under the bed.
In passing under the bedclothes his hat was
bi ushed off. Ile remained under cover
for several minutes, waiting for a lull in
the storm. At last his wife saw him thrust
ing his head out at the foot of the bed,
much like a turtle from its shell.
"What are you looking for ?" exclaimed
the lady.
"I vra looking for our hat, my dear,
says he.
A Constable's Troubles
A few days ago, at North Adams, Mass.,
the State constable seized a jar of rum and
arrested the party in whose possession it
was found, for selling liquor. The exam
ination before a district judge came on,
when the constable, after being sworn, tes
tified that he seized the liquor. The at
torney for the prisoner asked him if be
knew it was liquor. lle replied :
'Yes, it was rum. I drank some of it."
The prisoner, a woman, was called.
"Did you have any liquor in your house
when the State constable called there?"
"Yes, I had some in a jar."
"How long had you it ?"
"About six months."
"Did you have it for sale ?"
"Oh, no • I don't sell liquor"
"What do you keep this rum for ?"
"I keep it to wash the baby."
Had you ever washed the baby in this
rum ?"
"Oh, yes, often I used to turn the
rum out in a dish, wash the baby in it
and then turn it back into the jar."
There was laughter in court, and the
State constable declared he would seize no
more liquor kept in a jar.
A LITTLE five-year-old boy was being
instructed in morals by his grandmother.
The old lady told him that all such terms
as "by golly," "by jingo," "by thunder,"
&c., were only little oaths and but little
better than other profanity. In fact, she
said, you could tell a profane oath by the
prefix "by." All such were oaths. "Well,
then, grandmother," said the little hope
ful, “is 'by telegraph,' which I see in the
newspapers, swearing ?" "No," said the
old lady, "that's only lying."
A MAN who had just bought a new
watch of a dealer was wondering how he
should know if it run exactly right : "Oh,"
said the salesman, who was an Irishman,
"I'll write you the exact time every Mon
day noon and thin you can set your watch
by my letter."
A SON of Erin, just arrived in this land
of plenty, being in want, was told, by a
person to whom he applied for aid, to go
to h-1, generally considered a very warm
region. 'Civility, indade," said Pat, "to
invite me to your father's house."
A QUARRELSOME couple were discussing
the subject of epitaphs and tombstones,
and the husband said, "My dear what kind
of a stone do you suppose they will give
me when I die ?" "Brimstone, my love !"
was the affectionate reply.
LET a young woman take the degree of
A. 8., that is, a bride, and she may hope
in due time to be entitled to that of A. M.
NO. 46.
he Tome Sitar.
The Great Hereafter ,
Tis sweet to think, when struggling
The goal of life to win,
That just beyond the shores of time
The better years begin.
When through the nameless ages
I cast my longing eye;
Before me, like a boundless sea,
The great hereafter lies.
Along its brimming bosom
Perpetual summer smiles,
And gathers like a golden robe
Around the emerald isles.
Then, in the blue, long distance, .
By lulling breezes fanned,
I seem, to see the flowing groves
Of old Beulah's land.
And far beyond the islands,
That gem the waves serene,
The image of the cloudless shore
Of holy heaven is seen.
Unto the great Hereafter—
Aforetime dim and dark—
I freely now and glady give
Of life the wandering bark
And in the far off heaven,
When shadowy seas are passed,
By angel's hands its quivering sails
Shall all be furled at last.
Energy Added to Faith
The right balance of the Christian
gmees, that no one grace shall be dwarfed
or perverted by the unscriptural develop
ment of others, is greatly to be desired,
especially in our day, when piety takes on
such diffirent modes of manifestation. En
tire symmetry of Christian character, in
which each grace holds its true place and
all exhibit a proportionate completeness,
is a rare attainment, and as difficult as
rare. As an aid to this end is the scrip
tural injunction, "Add to your faith vir
Faith is the foundation of true Chris
tian character. It is as essential as the
corner stone to a house ; and this is be
cause by it we are brouglit into union with
Christ ; and secure the indwelling'" ,f the
Holy Spirit. Without the living union,
"the fruits of the Spirit" can have no de
velopment, as they have no starting point ;
with it all benefits of Christ's redemptive
work may in time become ours.
This faith, the corner-stone of the Chris
tian edifice in the heart of every true be
liever, is far more than a mere intellectual
assent to the truth relating to Christ; it
joins with this assent of the understanding
a hearty embracing of Christ in all his
offices as just what the sinful man needs,
and casts itself upon him a 3 its only and
all-sufficient Savior. Such a fhith subor
dinates the whole being,—will, affections
and active powers—to the will of Christ.
It makes the realities of the eternal world
present verities, and leads the Christian to
act as "seeing the invisible." It sinks the
world with its motives and claims and
pleasures into their due insignificance and
gives spiritual and divine things their
proper prominence. On such a basis Chris
tian character may be budded; out of such
a symmetrical cluster of graces may spring
and bloom and mature.
Yet faith without works is dead. Mere
abstract trust in God, however absorbing
and profbund, is of little avail, and may
be perverted by the yet unsanctified nature
into a blind and dreamy mysticism. Hence,
says the precept, "Add to your faith vir
tue." that manly energy which will go
forth in active work for Christ.
"Action, not thought, is a being's highest
end," and he that will follow Christ, must,
like Him, go about and do good. God is
ever active, and in world-making and
world-governing "worked hitherto." Christ
incarnate was ceaseless in his activities;
the early disciples rested not in the diffu
sion of his salvation ; nor should any be
liever fail to work in His vineyard. The
addition of this manly energy to living
man is essential to the beginning of a sym
metrical Christian character.
A Story for Boys.
Two country lads came at an early hour
to a market town, and arranging their lit
tle stands, sat down to wait for customers.
One was furnished with fruits and vege
tables of the boy's own raising, and the
other with clams and fish. The market
hours passed along and each little merchant
saw his store steadily decreasing and an
equivalent in silver bits, shining in his lit
tle money cup. The ast melon lay on
Harry's stand, when a gentleman came by,
and placing his hand upon it said, "What
a fine large melon! What do you-ask for it,
my boy ?"
"The melon is the last I have, sir; and
though it looks very fair, there is an un
sound spot in it," said the boy, turning it
"So there is, I think I will not take it.
But," he adde, looking into the boy's
fine, open countenance, "is it not very un
business-like to point out the defects of
your goods to customers ?"
-It is setter than Doing dishonest, sir "
said the boy, modestly.
"You are right, little fellow; always re
member that principle, and you will find
favor with God and man also; I shall re
member your little stand in future. Are
these clams fresh ?" he continued, turn
ing to Ben. Wilson's stand.
"Yes, sir, fresh this morning, I caught
them myself," was toe reply, and a pur
chase being made, the gentleman went
"Harry, what a fool you were to show
the gentleman that spot in the melon!
Now you can take it home for your pains,
or throw it away. How much wiser is he
abut those clams I caught yesterday?
Sold them for the same price as I did the
fresh ones. He would never have looked
at the melon until he had gone away."
"Ben, I would not tell a lie or act one
either, for twice what I have earned this
morning. Besides I shall be better off in
the end, for I have gained a customer, and
ycu have lost one."
And so it proved, for the next day the
gentleman bought nearly all his fruits and
vegetables of Harry, constantly patronized
him, and sometimes talked with him a few
minutes about his future prospects. To
become a merchant was Harry's great am
bition, and when winter came on, the gen
tleman, wanting a trusty boy for his ware
house, decided on giving the place to
Harry. Steadily and surely he advanced
in the confidence of his employer, until
having passed through various posts of
service, he became at length an honored
partner in the firm.
SAYS a distinguished student of human
nature : I don't believe in bad luck being
set for a man, like a trap; but I have
known lots of folks who, if there is any
first-rate bad luck lying around loose, would
be sure to get their foot into it anyhow I